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hyunjin-mylove · 2 months

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First morning of forever

You open your eyes to a brightly lit room. The morning sun coming in through the balcony doors that have been left open.

As your eyes adjust to the morning, you take in the room. The hotel sheets are warm and soft around you. Clothes litter the floor - your cheeks flush at the memories of last night. A water bottle has been left on your bedside table and you sit up to take a sip. The breeze from the open doors spreads goosebumps down your bare arms. It's then that you notice the empty spot next to you in the bed, quickly losing warmth.

You look over to the balcony, spotting your husband of not even 24 full hours. Instantly, you're warmed by the image of his figure standing out on the balcony, taking in the world below. His tan skin glows in the morning sunlight, almost like he's some angel and not a mere mortal. Hyunjin always had that aura about him and you were left completely speechless every time you recognized it. The silky robe he threw on when he got out of bed sways gently as another breeze rolls in. This time, you barely notice, too enraptured by the man you get to call your husband.

The ring on his finger sparkles in the sun, catching your eye. A smile finds its way to your lips as you recall how excited you were to put it on him the day before that your hands couldn't stop shaking until he guided your hands to his. Tears begin to well up as you recite his vows in your head, poetic by nature, and you need to lean back into the pillows to brunt the force of love and emotions hitting you all at once.

As if sensing you've awoken, Hyunjin turns to meet your eyes with his own. A gentle smile graces his face as he carefully takes in his bride. You're sure your hair is a mess and your pajamas were never the cutest, but there was not a hint of judgement in his eyes. The sun hit his eyes in such a way that plain old brown could no longer describe them, but no matter what colour they were, pure love was all you could see in them. It was all you'd ever seen when he looked at you.

Gracefully, almost as if he's floating, his long legs take him to the bed where you lay. He sits next to you and cups your face in his large hands. A kiss is pressed to your forehead and his thumbs swipe away the tears that fell when you closed your eyes in contentment at being held by him.

"Good morning, my love," he mumbles against your hairline. Hyunjin pulls away to look you in your eyes once again. "Happy tears or sad?"

"Happy," comes your wet reply. The grin on your face pulls at your cheeks in a way that you know he's restraining himself from pinching. "So very happy. Just overwhelmed by how much I love you."

You watch as tears begin to well up in his own eyes at your admission before he finds refuge in your hair. Even now that you're finally married, those three words coming from your mouth will always overwhelm him. His arms squeeze you close. The warmth radiating from him is grounding on this gentle, early morning.

Hyunjin's response comes as soft words whispered into your hair.

"You have no idea just the depths of my love for you. I meant what I said yesterday when I said I'm with you until the end. You've taken my heart and soul; I cannot live without you."

You gently push him away so you can see his face. He easily goes but before he can continue his speech, you pull him to your lips. The kiss is wet, both of your tears mixing on each other's cheeks, but it is no less gentle than he promised the day he learned your first kiss would be his to cherish. His hands find their home on your cheek and around your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your grip pulls him even closer to you, where he's practically laying on top of you, but it's exactly where you both want him to be. The plans he made for your first day as a married couple can wait, if it means you can stay in each other's embrace a little longer.

Hi!! Thank you so much for reading! The moment those pictures were released, all I could imagine was what it would be like to wake up to him the first morning of your honeymoon and this is what came about :)

#im aware im delulu #and that im dramatic #dont look at me #i just really love him okay #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic #skz #skz x reader #skz fluff

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corviiids · 1 year

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meditations on the odyssey

#tagamemnon #rookposting #featuring toasty #odyssey #also i know 10 of the years were war not trying to get home. im bejng dramatic

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naomistares · 5 months

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everyone decided to skip in the bathroom

(shakily and brittlely: im never doing backgrounds again)

#art #artists on tumblr #digital art #nicole class of 09 #jecka class of 09 #class of 09 #emily class of 09 #ari class of 09 #this took less time than i originally thought #im being dramatic #next art minthara #sorry sometimes i need a break #to draw normal people clothes!#video games

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petricorah · 2 months

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*azula's lightning going off in the background*

redrew this boiling rock scene taken by @sokkalore and @ultfreakme and then got distracted trying out new brushes

screencap under cut, ids in alt

#zukka #zukka fanart #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender fanart #mydoodles #i wanted this to be more dramatic in my normal style but this was fun #sometimes im tempted to try to do a redraw in the show style to make a fake screencap but this angle was too hard lmao #zuko #sokka #the boiling rock #screencap redraw

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thatpunnyperson · 10 months

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According to NBC here in the US, the missing titanic sub has been found. As debris. Off the bow of the Titanic wreckage.

And it looks like the sub suffered what we all suspected, and what was undoubtedly the more merciful of the two options: a catastrophic implosion from the pressure.

Also, more info has come to light about the fishing trawler with the hundreds of migrants that sank cataclysmically off the coast of Greece, indicating that the greek coast guard knew about the vessel AND how much trouble the vessel was in, and were towing it at a speed that made it capsize, at which point they unhooked the tow line and watched the trawler sink without helping the passengers to safety. Despite a bunch of other ships trying to help as well throughout the whole ordeal.

So a lot of people are dead, all because of regulations (and the lack thereof) regarding sea-faring vessels and rescue protocols. People shouldnt be allowed to make a business charging a ton of money for a ride on an uncertified, unsafe, un-seaworthy ship going deep into the ocean with no distress beacon or tether to the mothership. People also shouldnt be allowed to enact laws that criminalize the ferrying of refugees, which then force the refugees to hitch rides on fishing trawlers, and which also prevent people from helping those fishing trawlers full of refugees due to fear of legal consequences.

Hopefully BOTH of these events spark changes on an international scale in terms of what is legally allowed to be sailed, who is legally allowed to be the passengers, and what the rescue protocols are in the event of disaster for any seafaring vessel, illegal or not. It shouldnt be just the global 1% who get 24/7 search parties and remote-operated submersibles helping rescue them.

#the question of 'what do we owe to each other' can be answered simply with 'the dignity of retrieving our remains when we die'#another answer is 'the dignity of thinking about each other fellow humans with similar motivations and feelings'#also 'stopping someones potentially self-destructive behaviors just because theyre rich and want to feel special'#also i feel like humans have been sailing the seas long enough that it should be guaranteed that people will survive sea voyages #im very mad about specifically mediterranean maritime disasters because we have ancient writing saying they made it safe #sailing from Egypt to Greece was so old hat and safe that people legit took the ancient equivalent of cruises back and forth #cleopatra habitually sailed from alexandria to rome with a ton of ships and was fine #Nero tried to have his mother drowned at sea by orchestrating a dramatic shipwreck while she was our sailing AND SHE SURVIVED #and then swam to shore got back to rome and whooped his ass #fuckin pliny the elder tried to evacuate people from pompeii and the surrounding coast villages when vesuvius erupted #and he actually WAS able to rescue people #but he himself had an asthma attack from the fumes which led to a heart attack and he died on the beach #there is legit no excuse for that trawler of migrant refugees to have wrecked #negligence all around #anyway #oceangate

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improvapocalyps · 17 days

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You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

#team ranchers #team rancher #rancher duo #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #trafficshipping #mcyt recursive exchange #events #fic fanart #my art #“canary has butterfly-shaped wings it cant do a dramatic spread like that” watch me. (draws dramatic wings) (sorry)#“you have 90 minutes” have been rattling in my brain for so long ever since i suddenly remembering a web weave using it (yes the beeduo one #very glad i can release it (using it in art) from its confines (my mind)#hm i suppose the title would be more in theme if its abt limited life ranchers #← havnt watched limlife yet #but! happy with what i come up with. lil bit proud even #had so much trouble with the panelling and layers in p2 cause it looks too busy (explodes)#also punching the floor bc i only noticed the “yes-no” pair(?) in the original poem when im already half-done w/ the comic #me when making silly comic makes you do poem analysis #i dont even go there ← does not have enough poetic braincells

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sopuu · 1 year

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1 left.

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carpsoup · 3 months

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my finished part for the Lay Down map

#rain world #rw gourmand #my art #RAAAAHHH IM DONE IM FREE FROM CENTIPEDE HELL #I say as if it wasnt my idea to animate the thing #im being dramatic this was SUPER fun to work on

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suntails · 15 days

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toot toot!

#breaking my streak of dramatic af captions bc look at this. look at it. wtf was i supposed to call it. he's tootin whaddya want from me #he go TOOT TOOT on his lil trumpet i fuckgjn LOVE HIM im maxing this card im serious #lvl 60 10/10 no expense is too much for my precious boy #i found a new brush that has this rly soft charcoal vibe and i used it on this whole thing and it was SEXY it was HEAVEN #it was fun for coloring too!!! and the outfit colors are fun to color OUGHH everything made just for me <3 feeling SILLY #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #his bunny outfit sweeps like im sorry but its the best card of the event and its not even fucking close #suntails #i did one 10-pull bc i wanted the paint bonus from epel's card even tho i HATE that card #and i instead got SUPER lucky and got deuce and NO epel!!! i couldnt be fucking happier #then my job interview today never called and i was miserable again but it was an internal issue and im now rescheduled for next week #so please dear god pls guys pray i get this job. i want it sooooo bad

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confessedlyfannish · 26 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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