#DC fanficiton

[i-am-so-sad-i-cant-cry]

New chapter bois!

[dandelion-blues]

Imitheos Phantasm

Chapter 1: Like Clockwork

Time has always existed, and yet it has not. For how can time exist when there was nothing? Then, the first being came. Chaos. They birthed the universe and thus time began. Time didn't originally have a name, nor a personhood - they just were. Much like their parent, they simply just existed. 

But then, life formed on those planets that Chaos created. The passageway of time leading to their evolution and their sentience.

It happened slowly at first, or perhaps in an instance — it can be hard to tell for one that represents time, but Time looked to shape a form that wasn’t like the endless waves of timelines.

Time took a liking to the mortals as they now were called and shaped their form off of them. They were even given a name by the mortals when they visited.

Chronos.

Of course, only a part of Time ever slipped away to the mortal realms, influencing their lives here and there, while the other stayed in the celestial or infinite realms.

But it was this piece (or rather several as there are multiple universes and dimensions) of Chronos that truly became attached to the mortal realm — that chose to separate themselves from their main body even if they became weakened by doing so.

This Chronos came to be named Kronos and was mistaken as a Titan in his more mortal form as he traded his tail for legs. 

Kronos walked or rather stumbled through the land that was known as Earth, or Gaia. Kronos recognized one of his sister progeny of Chaos. They weren’t true siblings like mortals, though, just as they simply came into existence as Chaos willed it so.

It was perhaps in this moment, though, the Kronos knew what love was when they saw her. All tan skin, like gold, and fiery red hair like a rose, and those eyes lush and green.

Kronos fell in love. It wasn’t until later, much later though, that he finally got the courage to approach this gorgeous woman. 

He watched her play in the meadows sometimes. Watched as she took special interest in the golden flowers. And he decided to make his red eyes as golden as those flowers.

He didn't really know until much later that this behavior would be perceived as creepy. Afterall, he’s always watching. He’s watched time form the very start of his existence, and why should another one of his interests be any different.

And so, he continued to watch with golden eyes. His once pale blue skin became pale like the clouds that she so loved to gaze out. And his pure white hair became black as the night she dreamt under.

Then, one day, Kronos could no longer just watch, and he approached her.

Kronos learned that her name was Rhea, and she was the daughter of Gaia and Ouranos.

Rhea seemed almost as fascinated by him as he was with her. His tales of time that just seemed insignificant made her bright green eyes shine with wonder.

And Kronos began to see life and time through her eyes, and he spun tale after tale of all they saw and learned.

Kronos learned what it was to live, and the two soon fell in love.

Their marriage wasn’t one of opulence and riches, but of flower crowns and promises and tender embraces.

Of course, that’s not how the mortals tell their tale, but that’s for another time.

But the mortals did get a few things right. Kronos descend into madness and the swallowing of their children.

Kronos didn’t think that there would be negative effects from separating so permanently from his main body, but not much after Rhea was pregnant for the first time, did he start to hear voices whispering in his ears.

He was too weak. He couldn’t protect them. His children were in danger!

He had to keep them close.

Kronos dismissed it at first, but they grew louder and louder every day. Speaking of the tragedies that would befall the child. And when his first daughter Hestia was born.

The voices were thundering. His daughter. His precious daughter. She was so fragile, so breakable. 

And he ate her. She would never be hurt in his stomach after all. She would be able to grow and survive in peace, and he would always be able to protect her like this. He could feel her breathing, her heart, her screams. She was safe.

Rhea was never the wiser, but Kronos knew she wouldn’t understand.

Thus, began the tale of Kronos and how he swallowed up all of his kids, except one, to protect them. Of how, his youngest, hidden away by his sweet Rhea, eventually tricked him into throwing all of his babies up.

No, he couldn’t protect them! They needed to be safe and whole! They couldn’t leave or they would get hurt!

But then Kronos was cut into pieces by his children.

Even then, he only held love for them, not hate like the mortals would say.

Perhaps, this should have been when he merged with his other self, and became whole again, but something stopped him. The voices, the timelines spoke to him. Of him returning, or him seeing his children again if he stayed and healed over time, of wars and blood and massacres.

And so, Kronos stayed and healed and waited.

Kronos didn’t know how much time passed by again until he was conscious enough to think, but one day he could.

At first, he didn’t know what he was seeing, but eventually he learned that he was seeing other's dreams, slipping into their unconsciousness like a phantom.

It was through these dreams that Kronos learned much of the present world.

That his children once ruled over the world all bright and glorious, until mortals made them fade into obscurity. How dare they?!

The mortals even took their names and changed them! Made them Roman! Even named him Saturn!

Then, the mortals dared to forget his children and even made some of the gods fade over time, when too much of their domain was wrecked by the mortals and they were forgotten.

Kronos was once again stuck by that blinding fear, like lightning from his youngest.

His children could fade!

And his children had children. Some of his grandchildren already did!

Kronos was in anguish. How dare those mortals?! How dare they?!

He swore that day that the mortals would be eradicated if it was the last thing he did.

It was then that he was able to slip into mortal’s dreams, into demigod dreams. 

Kronos loved them, he hated them.

They were his grandbabies, they were destruction.

They were his. And that was what mattered.

He could teach them to forgo their mortal ways, after all they have ichor in their blood just as they have red in their veins. For now, though, until gold overtook their veins, they were pesky mortals, they were pawns.

One such pawn great-grandson went by the name of Luke Castellan, and he was going to make sure that he would see his children and grandchildren again… the godly ones of course.

And so, Kronos lied to Luke, for Luke wanted to tear down the gods, his children, and Kronos said he wanted the same. Still, even as Luke’s plans made Kronos’ blood boil, he was such a good pawn for what was to come.

However, everything started to go down when that mortal with more gold than red in his veins stood against him. 

Perseus Jackson, that brilliant amazing grandson of his useless mortal trash foiled his plans at every turn. And there in his dying hour, did Kronos finally see his grandson for the first time. His green eyes are so much like Rhea’s, the fear and anger and hurt in those eyes.

Ancients what has Kronos done?!

Thus, Kronos let himself seep back to his main body, perhaps to be destroyed for good, for all the sins he committed. But, instead, his other self, Chronos, held him, gold peering to gold, and hugged him.

Kronos cried and cried, and they fell into one another. The two became one once more.

Of course, while this moment felt like an instant, it was also so much more. Fusion of two powerful beings into one, atoms spitting and time ending and begging. The universe tilted on its axis, and time once again started anew.

But then, those golden eyes peered at the universe, to see if their family was safe and saw that their grandson with Rhea’s eyes had died.

Chronos raged that day, oh they raged. So many universes fall into dark timelines, but they did not care, for the one who brought them back to the light was gone.

But then, they saw with their eyes turning a brilliant golden, a baby being born, crying out and their soul. Oh, and their soul was Percy’s.

Chronos wept with joy and from then on, they took to watching each and every moment in Percy’s, or rather Danny’s, life.

…Not noticing until it was too late that a scythe sliced their left eye, and the chains shackled them to a clock tower.

Their eyes no longer were the brilliant golden of sand. No, they were the color of blood, red and weak with mortality.

Chronos was no longer time. No, they were merely a slave to those eyeballs that called themselves the Observants. Whatever they wanted he did. Their powers were greatly dimensioned, and he could barely see into the vast timelines. He needed mirrors to see now. No, in this clock tower, they were simply just another clock worker.

So that’s who he became — Clockwork.

Notes:

Both the Gods in the PJO Universe and the DP Universe and the DC Universe (as well as others) can exist simultaneously because they can split themselves (whether permanently or not).

Also, this fanfic idea comes from my #2 "What if...?" where Percy Jackson was reborn as Danny Fenton. Of course, fate has never been nice to the hero's soul, and struggles will continue on in all of his lives. From one universe to the next. At least the dc universe has other heroes to help him (even if they were too late to save him from death). Still, we can only hope that life will give him a break (but Death never will).

[lis-likes-fics]

Lab Rats

Pairings: professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader Word Count: 8.2k words Prompt: Sex Pollen Warnings: NSFW, smut, dubcon, professor/student relationship, sex pollen, oral (m!receving), fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, dumbification, name calling, degradation, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie... A/N: This is a day late, but I got it done! I hope you enjoy this filthy piece. Dr. Crane is so much fun to write for!

The call of your name stalled you from packing the rest of your items, your fingers tingling and your ears burning at the sound of your name breaching his lips.

“Could you stay after class, please?” Professor Crane asked, looking upon you with a set smile.

You remained calm. He would read any unnecessary excitement in the way you breathed.

You nodded, trying to sink back into the rest of the class, packing their bags to leave. You pulled the zipper of your bag closed. When enough people left the room, you made your way to the front with your bag on your person.

You had taken a certain fascination with Dr. Jonathan Crane the first moment you stepped into his class. He was handsome and charming, he knew how to teach and he always managed to pull you in.

He wasn't soft on anyone, even his favorite student usually didn't receive much special treatment. On the first day of classes, he told everyone that 50% of the class would be walking out of the door by the end of the week, and he was right. Better for you, that just meant less people to steal his attention away, less competition when it came to acing his tests and projects.

You loved his class, not just for the topic—obviously. Over the past couple of weeks, you felt his shift. His usual objectivity had switched and he seemed to point you out a little more. He praised your work, he accepted all of your input in class, he would even email you personally (sometimes talk to you after class) on your work to tell you how well you were doing.

You knew your attraction toward him would never amount to anything, it would never work out. But your fantasy was enough to quench your hunger for his attention and affection.

“Yes, sir?” you asked as you walked up to him.

Crane smiled at you. “I have a few matters I would like to speak with you privately… Could you spare the time?”

The strength of your heartbeat was extra hard for a few moments as you took in his words. You nod, “Of course, professor.”

“Step into my office?” he asked, gesturing toward the door with his name on it.

You took the first step, walking toward the door as he followed behind. You were suddenly very self-conscious of the way that you walked as you opened the door.

He moved around you when you were both inside, allowing you to shut the door as he took his spot in front of his desk. He leaned back on it, crossing his legs at the ankles and putting his hands in his pockets.

You knew this one. He was presenting his body language to seem more relaxed in order to ease you from your guard so he could properly manipulate you into agreeing with whatever he said.

He sighed, taking a moment to look upon you. “I would like you to know that I admire you and your work greatly,” he began, “and this is what allows me to ask this of you so freely.”

You blinked, anticipating his offer. “Yes, professor?”

He smiled, almost slyly. “I am conducting an experiment of sorts, a scientific breakthrough that I would like you to be the face of.”

You stared at him, your eyes wider than you meant for them to be as you slowly recovered. “I… Me?”

He nodded. “As part of a selection of students.”

Your heart sunk slightly at that. One of a group, but his first choice, at least…

“Oh,” you nodded. “Alright, uhm… Why—What, uh…” You reprimanded yourself for your lack of eloquence. “What is the experiment? What kind is it?”

“Unfortunately,” he breathed in deep, letting out a long sigh, “that must be kept a secret until I come to a close. It's not quite done—a few last minute tweaks need to be made…” He looked off slightly, thinking to himself for a split second. His attention turned back to you, looking at you a little closer, bringing you in.

He spoke slowly, leaning off the desk to stand. He moved a little closer, and you felt his hand brush your elbow. “But I would like to know that you would be willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice when I do contact you for it.”

He took another step forward, closer now to you. You knew this one, too. He was making it personal, making you compliant. You knew this trick, it was Psychology 101.

But it worked anyway.

“Oh,” you licked your bottom lip: your own trick. “Okay.”

He smiled, raising his brows, “Yes?” he nodded.

You returned the nod. “Yes, sir,” you smiled. “I…would be honored to.”

He held your eye contact, not letting go as he nodded. “Excellent!” he exclaimed gently. He leaned in a little, close to your face, too close for a professor talking to his student. “You really are my greatest student.”

You smiled, perhaps too much. You feel too giggly. “I'm…so glad.”

He moved his hand from your elbow to raise a finger, shaking it gently at you. “Remember,” he teased, “at a moment’s notice.”

You nodded definitely. “Of course.”

He offered you a charming smile before stepping out of your space, breaking the spell. He tilted his head toward you. “You may go.” Just as you were lifting your foot, he held out a hand toward you. “And thank you very much.”

With one last nod, you stepped back. “Not a problem, sir.”

You stepped out of his office, closing the door gently behind you. Gently biting your lip, you unsilenced your phone as you left his classroom.

~

The shrill ring of your phone cut through the late night and woke you brutally from your slumber. You gasped as you reluctantly blinked through the dark to direct your eyes to the abusive light emanating from the phone. The clock next to it on the nightstand read far past midnight. You moaned deeply, speaking but only forming actual words toward the middle of your complaint.

“...’f i’s ‘nother sp’m…” You wiped your face and covered your eyes as you answered the phone, not quite awake but too tired to deal with waking up.

“Hullo?”

The voice on the other end woke you up just a little more, not quite clearing the fog in your brain but allowing you to put more effort into sounding a little more awake.

“It's time.”

Time for wh—Oh.

You suddenly remembered Dr. Crane's experiment, the one he wanted to test with you. Your gut clenched and your heart picked up and startled you awake. It was time.

“Oh.”

~

You pressed your finger into the doorbell, checking the address of Dr. Crane's house out of nerves a fifth time and the time for the twentieth. You wrapped your coat tighter around you, the chilly breeze persuaded by the winter air of Gotham so close to Christmas time. They would be letting you out for the break soon…

The door opened, a little crack and a creak to allow you entry.

“Just go along with whatever happens.”

You thought back to his instructions on the phone, vague instructions you briefly considered not trusting. But he was your professor. He had your best interests at heart, surely.

You reached your hand toward the knob, timidly reaching. He wasn't at the door. Should you actually go in?

“Don't waste time asking questions. Everything will be explained when you get there.”

You pushed the door open and walked inside, shucking your coat off as you nervously looked around the house. You shut the door behind you, hanging your coat on the rack by the entrance and leaving your shoes next to the ones by the door.

You swallowed thickly as you looked around, stepping further inside. “Uhm…” you cleared your throat. “Dr. Crane? Are you still home?”

You were met with silence as you continued to quietly step through the living room, the air so still that you could feel your heart beating heavily in your chest. You were so nervous, your blood was pumping and you were bordering on scared as you tried to keep your breath level. Your flesh raised with goosebumps. It was too quiet.

You almost didn't want to speak again, afraid to break the silence and disturb something unknown lurking around the corner.

“Dr. Crane?” you called again, suddenly feeling very warm and very frightened. Where was he? “Professor?”

“In here.”

The voice was distant when he spoke, giving you some reprieve from the silence but feeding your anxiety, fueling your fight-or-flight.

“Where?” you wondered aloud, stepping past the archway that led into the hall.

“Just a few steps more…”

Could he see you? Was he taunting you on purpose? Perhaps part of the experiment?

The anxiety curled in your stomach, kept your footsteps slow and your breath shallow and a scream ready in your throat in case you needed it.

You were reluctant to speak. “Sir?” You pressed your palm along the wall of the hall and began to peer around the corner, into a room on the left. Maybe Dr. Crane was waiting there…

A strange, strong mist invaded your senses as you turned the corner. Raring up the scream, you gasped and your eyes stung, resulting in a heavy cough that took a moment to die down. You braced yourself on the wall, holding yourself up as you tried to clear your eyes, clouded by tears from both the coughing and the mist burning your eyes. You watched the mist clear, breathing in desperately for air.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Dr. Crane's voice came, then his hands on your shoulders as he pulled you in and guided you into the room. “That's good,” he bid.

He held you steady as you blinked rapidly and steadied your breath. “I took the liberty of testing my hypothesis that it would work faster if the patient is already running on adrenaline.”

You wiped the tears roughly from your eyes. “Professor, what–?”

“Hush,” he cut you off, bringing you to the bed. “Sit here,” he said, lowering you down.

He pulled up a chair, sitting across from you before handing you a handkerchief. You took it greedily and began wiping your face. You sighed deeply into the fabric, holding your head in your hands as you adjusted.

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “Now that's done…the substance you've just inhaled is an aphrodisiac of my own design.”

You stilled entirely, looking up at him tentatively as your eyes widened. You blinked, shaking your head as you tried to organize your thoughts. It was an… an—“Aphrodisiac…” you muttered.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Aphrodisiac.”

You were suddenly dizzy, processing his words too slowly as you put together what this meant. An experiment with an aphrodisiac… and you were the “face” of it all?

“The word itself comes from the Greek name ‘Aphrodite’, which—I'm sure you know—is the Greek goddess of Sex.” You looked up at him as he began explaining, rolling up the sleeves of his white button down and dusting off his black slacks. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he continued, “As far as the function of the substance is concerned, it affects hormone levels and accelerates blood flood, increasing chemicals in your brain like—dopamine, glutamic acid, nitric oxide, oxytocin to enhance sexual arousal.” He sounded like he was reading straight out of a book as he spoke with his hands, illustrating the drug to you to paint pretty pictures for you to apply to what was happening to you, in your own body.

It was getting warm, the physical exertion from the adrenaline, likely. The suspense and anxiety from before, along with the shock of Dr. Crane's mist had thrust you into an adrenaline rush. That was surely all it was.

“It relaxes smooth muscles,” he continued. “Stimulates erections, increases arousal.”

You fought the urge to clench your thighs at the idea of it. He was your psych professor and you were his student, and he was testing aphrodisiacs on you and telling you how it made boners and stiff nipples and fucking arousal.

“Professor,” you muttered.

He stopped you, raising a finger. “Please hold. I'm not finished.” He cleared his throat and thought for a moment. “Where was I? Aphrodisiacs are commonly found in natural foods or herbs, though the change in sexual desire is usually unnoticed when these substances—like chocolates, most commonly, or oysters and figs and strawberries—are consumed.”

You clenched the handkerchief in your hand, rubbing your palms against your thighs roughly. “Professor Crane.” You felt like your head was beginning to spin.

He sighed at you, seemingly disappointed. “I hope you're interrupting me for a good reason.”

You stared at him straight on, nearly glaring as a thin layer of sweat began to form over your skin. “It's hot,” you huffed.

“Well, that's to be expected,” he shrugged. He looked you up and down, smiling with a gentle chuckle. “How rude of me. How are you feeling?”

You brought the handkerchief to your forehead, breathing uneasily. “Hot.”

“As you've already stated.” He waved his hand dismissively. “What else?”

You didn't want to say: considering the heat was spreading through your body and scouring your nerves with a flush of lust. The last thing you wanted to do was explain that you were horny to your professor.

He tilted his head at your hesitation, noticing the way you turned away, closed yourself off. He raised a brow. “Come on,” he bid. He didn't sound like he was encouraging you, he sounded like he was taunting you. “Don't leave any details. This is an experiment, might I remind you. If you leave anything out, it could hinder the research.”

“Um,” you struggled, your voice trembling a little. You felt like your whole body would soon follow suit. You felt shaky, like you’d fall if you tried to stand. “Uh.” You couldn’t figure out what to say—it was humiliating to say the least, looking at your professor and forcing your eyes to stay on his face, because fuck…you wanted him so bad.

He raised a brow, waiting expectantly, “Well?”

You couldn’t. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “It’s just hot.”

He reached his hand out and pressed the back of his palm to your forehead. The coolness of his skin against the heat of your face was like a salve to a cruel burn. You leaned into him, stifling your moan as best you could as your eyes fluttered at the contact. It felt so good.

“Mm,” he hummed, pretending not to notice your weakness as he shifted his hand to your temple. “You’re burning up.” You knew he was taunting you when his hand slipped down to your neck, pressing against your scorching skin and sending goosebumps through your body. Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest any time soon.

When he pulled his hand away, you felt like you could die on the spot as the fever-like heat came back immediately after. You tried to remain impartial, shaking your head to gather your thoughts enough to speak.

“Why couldn’t you have just performed the experiment on your own?” you questioned, wiping your forehead roughly to be rid of the light sheen of sweat coating your skin. “I don’t see how an external test subject was necessary.” Remaining as professional as possible seemed like your best course of action. Insanity or not, this was still a test—you were sure of it—and there was no way you would fail a personal test with Professor Crane and risk falling from such high esteem with him.

He reached behind him where his suit jacket lay neatly on the back of his seat. He removed a second handkerchief from an inside pocket with a dramatic whip, taking his glasses off to clean them as he shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “If my theory is correct, the test must be performed with another person present. The substance works by increasing adrenaline. It’s quite similar to my fear toxin.”

You shook your head, “Fear toxin–”

“The adrenaline builds and builds,” he continued, cutting you off with little regard for you, as he glanced through the lenses, “increases the heart rate so much that—if left unresolved—the subject would experience a heart rate so high…” He finished polishing them off before replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and directing his analytical gaze toward you once more. With a lurking smile full of sadistic amusement, he spoke in a low voice, “...your little heart would burst in your chest.”

The anxiety curled in your chest until it began its fast evolution to fear. All these emotions mixing within you wasn’t good for your health—and, apparently, neither was this toxin he had infected you with. “...What?” you said. It was the only thing you could manage to say.

He shrugged, tilting his head with a slight roll of his eyes. “Well,” he began to correct himself, “not literally, of course. It’s highly improbable. But your heart would just…stop.” His eyes seemed to darken as he explained it to you, staring too deeply into your own anxious gaze as he seemed to enjoy every minute of this. With a breath, he began again. “And while my toxin has an antidote, there is only one way to reverse the effects of this aphrodisiac.”

You swallowed thickly. “Which is?”

He smirked, though he tried to hide it. “Sexual gratification.”

If you weren’t burning up, your blood would run cold…and then you’d run just as hot as you were running now. Your head was definitely spinning now, images of forbidden desires—which you had pushed down, down to the depths of your mind—flooding to the surface. So many fantasies, so many urges, being unlocked once more as you thought about…reversing the effects.

But, for the millionth time,  he was your professor. It didn’t matter how many times you’d fantasized about him having you on your knees, his hands in your hair, his lips all over your body…it couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen.

You tried not to clear your throat. It would make you more guilty than you already were. “W-well–” Damn it, you cringed. “–even if that’s true…gratification can be…achieved through…”

He raised a brow, happy to mock you. “Through?”

You took in a steadying breath, looking down at your legs to avoid looking up at him. Your skin was burning, your nerves were tingling with an increasing desire “Through self-pleasure. Masturbation. Couldn’t it?” You were already this far, there was no use in being shy.

But even then…

He tilted his head, sighing. “Unfortunately, no,” he said. “You see, once it has been ingested in any form, only another person's hormones can slow the process—which is why you’re still so in control right now–” you didn’t feel in control, “–but even that isn’t enough. In males, sexual gratification can only be achieved by the release of semen when mixed with a woman’s arousal. Likewise, for a female subject, gratification can only be met through insemination.”

He said it so quickly, so nonchalantly. You had no time to process as you blinked rapidly. “Insem–”

“Therefore, a partner is necessary for the experiment, and only a partner of the opposite sex is truly effective, so…I suppose that’s a loss for the homosexuals, hm?” He shrugged, amused by his own joke.

Pain spasmed in your stomach, a sharp stab in your gut and a stinging sensitivity to everything your skin came in contact with. “Fuck,” you sighed, folding over slightly just as a growing migraine became present enough to matter.

He sighed. “Language, please.”

You rubbed your palms harshly against your eyes, forcing your fingertips against your temple in a useless attempt to ease the pain roaring in your head, sacrificing the stabbing in your gut. “It hurts.” It took everything not to sob.

He turned his head. “What kind of pain?”

“All of the above,” you said impatiently, your voice breaking. “It hurts.”

He hummed and leaned forward. “And where does it hurt the most?” He gestured to your general body. “Or is it just about the same everywhere?”

“It's…” you hesitated, “everywhere.”

Crane tilted his head, looking at you with a glow of disappointment. He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them to the side and directing his attention entirely on you.

“Now, my dear,” you shuddered at the name, “This doesn't work if you aren't being completely and entirely honest with me. I am quite content to sit here and watch you succumb to my little toxin.” A wash of shock overtook you, your palpitating conflicted between beating too fast and stopping all together.

He continued, a taunting grin curving his lips as he gave you his cold stare. “Without me to help you,” he shrugged, “you have no way of reversing the effects. I'll say you came down with a sudden fever, one you just couldn't fight.”

The hair along your arms stood tall. He couldn't be serious, it was a joke… But when have you known Jonathan Crane to joke?

“But…” you fumbled, trying to decide what to say, “But I've been perfectly healthy. Why would people believe you?”

He tilted his head, looking at you like you were just the cutest, dumbest little thing. “This is Gotham, sweetheart.” He shrugged dismissively. “People die every day, and no one fucking cares.”

Breathing heavily, you put a hand over your stomach and let out a pained moan. You thought to yourself, over his words. You shook your head, not meeting his eyes.

“Cramps.”

He raised a brow questioningly. “Hm?”

“The pain,” you stated. “Stomach cramps, tender nipples and…and clitoris. Even the fabric of my clothes is too much. It hurts.” You ignored the heat in your face. It didn't matter now—the insecurity, the awkwardness. It was strictly scientific. Of course, it was.

“Very good,” he grinned, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Tell me more.”

“Tunnel vision, dizziness, migraine, short breath. It's like… it's almost like a panic attack.”

“Is that all?”

“It's really hot,” you huffed, another pained moan escaping through your unsteady breaths. “I'm really hot.” It didn't matter. “Fuck, professor, I need you.”

“What's that?” The fucker was getting off on teasing you like this, mocking you like it was his only pleasure in life.

“I need you,” you urged, trying not to sound as whiny as you feel.

“Is that so?” he raised a brow, smirking. “Have you told me everything then?”

“Yes, everything. Please.”

“Are you certain?” he pushed.

You felt the wet on your cheek and realized your need and the pain had reached your eyes, the tears welling along your waterline and dropping down in one streak down your face. “Please, I'll do anything!”

He paused slightly. “What's that?”

You reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling them into your lap. There was only one way to ease the pain, the heat, the desire. And you were set on it.

“I'll do anything! Just please, fuck me. Please,” you gasped, pushing through the pounding in your head and the fire in your core.

“Well,” he sighed, pulling his hand from your grasp to check his watch. He tsked to himself, thinking before he hummed. “I suppose I can do that.”

You could have cried—you were crying. “Thank you,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“But,” he pointed a finger at your face, as though you were a dog being disciplined, “you must do as I say.”

You nodded urgently. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” You shuddered at his words, the praise washing over you like a wave swallowing you whole as you lay on the sandy shore of a beach.

He snapped at you, indefinitely grabbing your attention as he pointed to the space in front of him. You stood from the bed in a moment, your weak legs barely holding you up.

His hands landed on your waist, and you nearly melted at the contact. He turned you around in his hands, looking you up and down with an appreciative moan. “Let's see what we're working with,” he said. “Strip.” The order was plain and simple.

You did as you were told, trying not to be shy about it. He didn't care about shyness, and it didn't matter anyway.

You began peeling your clothes off, moving faster with each inch of skin revealed. Once you were bare in front of him, you fought the overwhelming urge to cover yourself. He wanted to see you, to see what you had to offer.

He hummed to himself, snapping again. “On your knees.” Again, you did as you were told.

Moving to your knees, he took your face in his large hands. You melted against him, your eyes fluttering shut as a deep moan escaped you. His hands felt so cool in comparison to your burning skin. If you weren't so desperate for more of what he had to offer, you would be perfectly content with sitting here and having him hold you like this.

When his hands lightly smacked your cheeks, your eyes snapped open as you brought yourself out of the sticky feeling of the subtle pleasure. “Keep your eyes open. And open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his thumb between them and pried your mouth open wide. He set his thumb on your tongue, pulling it over your bottom set of teeth and pushing his thumb farther into your mouth. Your breaths blew over his skin as he felt the softness of your cheeks, your tongue.

He surprised you when his hand was suddenly between your thighs, his fingers stroking through your folds as you gasped. “Jesus, you're fucking dripping.” He ran his fingers along your lower lips and the insides of your thighs where the arousal was smothered halfway down your thighs.

You whimpered and whined when he shoved his middle and ring fingers inside of you without warning, delving them into your hot, dripping, tight pussy. You tried not to squirm at the way his fingers wiggled inside you.

“Yes,” he sighed. “This'll do nicely.”

He pulled them out of you, shoving those same fingers between your lips to make you taste your arousal. “Suck,” he commanded. You obeyed.

You suckled around his fingers and felt another rush of molten arousal wash through you at the way he stares at you, his eyes dark and primal. You needed him.

“Strip me,” he said, pulling his hand away. From your knees, you unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, letting your hands press against the expanse of his chest and soothe you the slightest bit. You unbuckled his best and shoved his pants down his legs, removed it from his body like undoing ropes tying him to a chair.

You stared at his briefs, his half-hard erection tenting them as he enjoyed the sight of your mindless struggling. He placed a hand in your hair, gripping a fistful and holding you securely. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

You pulled his boxers down without hesitation and only faltered as you saw him for the first time. This was absurd. You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—staring at your professor’s erection, long and hard and flushed with his own lust for your body, about to wrap your lips around it.

You gripped him in your hand and he stifled a grunt at the feeling of your insistence. You stroked him a few times before sticking your tongue out and licking a long strip up the underside of his cock, tasting his precum beading at the tip and immediately becoming addicted to the taste. Whether it was him or just his toxin, the taste of him was mesmerizing, and you would do anything for more.

You wrapped your lips around him, suckling around the tip and taking him deeper. He let his head fall back just a bit, still watching you as his thighs clenched and his hair gripped your hair tighter. He did not guide you or push you down, he didn't think he needed to. You surprised him as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, taking him farther and farther down with each trip back and forth until he was filling your throat with his length and making you gag.

He grunted as you suckled some more. Your cunt clenched around nothing, aching for any kind of pressure as your clit pulsed and your walls fluttered. You ran a hand down your body, dipping between your thighs to try and ease some of the tension. You pressed down hard on your clit one time, a moan coming from your throat and shivering through his spine.

He pulled you by your hair off of his cock. “Did I say you could touch yourself, sweetheart?” You shook your head pathetically. “Then why are you doing it?”

You couldn't win this, you knew that. Using your desperation as regret, you frowned and whispered, “Sorry, sir.”

He loosened his grip enough to let you get back to work, still holding onto you as he leaned back again. Your lips found his cock once more, addicted and able to ignore the burn for now, a short escape from the pain.

You swirled your tongue around him, suckling as you went along. Crane stared at you with a dark gaze as you sucked him off. You flattened your tongue against him, going farther down his length with each swallow around his tip. Sticky white precum continued to seep from his slit and onto your tongue. You were drunk on the taste of him, taking him as best you could.

Crane looked like a dream, his head tilted back and his lips parted as you brought him closer and closer to a great release. Both his hands were tangled in your hair by now, holding on to you and his remaining control.

He was right about the hormones. Being this close to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne, the scent of his skin swirling around your head, was easing the searing desperation.

You felt him twitching on your tongue and suckled around him a little more. He was close, you could feel it. You didn't know if it was his toxin or not, but the idea of him spilling all over your tongue drove you crazy with lust.

He began to tense and groaned. “And that's enough of that,” he huffed, pulling you off of him by your hair and keeping you back, even through your attempts at licking the precum spilling from his tip.

“My, my,” he breathed. “Such a desperate little thing.”

You caught your breath as you spoke, your lips swollen and your eyes hooded as you did. “I need you,” you begged, gripping his thighs tight.

“Well,” he stood, snapping and gesturing for you to stand as well—you obeyed. “You'll have to be patient, sweetheart. I'm not through with my tests yet.” You whined. “Lay down.”

You did as told once again. He looked over your body, running a finger down the center of you, from your collarbone to your pelvis. You shuddered and whimpered but said nothing.

“I don't have any cuffs in here, so a tie will have to work.” He found his jacket draped along the back of his chair and pulled the tie neatly tucked inside of it out.

You held your breath as he reached for your hands, grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. He put them around the bars of the headboard and, with more skill than you expected, tied them together to keep you bound there.

He gave a content sigh at the sight of you, smiling to himself. His eyes found yours as his fingertips grazed your side “Now, you can be as loud as you want. No need to hold back. We're all alone in here.”

He stood over you as his palm smoothed along your skin, reaching further down until he found your mound, slick and hot and waiting for something to slip inside it.

Your breath quickened in anticipation, waiting for him to make his move as his fingers played with your skin. Holding eye contact, he slipped his finger inside of you, parting your folds and burying itself in deep.

Your head lolled back as you moaned, the sound sticky with lust. He sank in deep, inch by torturous inch. You held your breath in your, feeling each little bit disappear, knuckle by knuckle, inside.

A second finger joined the first, spreading you open for him. They thrust and curled inside you. You moaned and found yourself grinding your hips into his palm. You needed more, more of him, the bliss of his fingers spread through your body to ease the fire and feed it all at the same time.

“Professor,” you whimpered. “More, please.”

“Hm?” he taunted. “That's not enough for you? You need more?”

“Yes, please,” you gasped.

You clenched around his fingers, feeling him pumping his fingers in and out of you. He curled them against a sweet spot deep within your dripping cunt, exploring your body and becoming familiar with each little nook and cranny. Your back arched and your moans were loud in the space of the bedroom. You had never felt so good before, just by his hands alone.

When his speed increased, you thought you would cry. The dizziness was eased by his pleasure, the headache had waned enough for you to see, and the pain in your stomach had simmered to a dull ache. But his fingers stuffed inside only seemed to heighten the heavy pulse in her veins.

You pulled at the tie wrapped around your wrists as you whined. “Professor, please,” you huffed. “I can't take it. I—fuck—needa cum.”

Letting out what seemed to be a disinterested sigh, he shrugged. “Since you want it so bad…” His thumb pressed against your clit and your back arched slightly at the contact.

You cursed breathily, seeing stars as the pleasure grew and grew and grew at the expertise of his hand. You thought you were going to explode, reaching your peak far too quickly as a knot began to build in your stomach. You tensed, clenching around his fingers as he spread them and curled them and pumped them in and out of you.

“Fuck, can I cum?” you moaned. “Please, professor, I need it so bad.”

He didn’t answer you, rubbing your clit in tight, fast circles as he felt you flutter around his fingers, he listened to your unsteady breath and felt your trembling thighs. You could feel yourself reaching that point, on the verge of finding that bliss…

You whimpered meekly when he suddenly stopped. Watching you with a dark smile, he chuckled as you squirmed and tried to move your hips against his hand. A tear slipped down the side of your face as the pain returned, sharper this time and spreading through your body like you’d been shocked.

“Dr. Crane, please,” you cried, squirming like a worm on a hook.

He laughed at you, looking your body up and down as he disregarded your need and spoke. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Another tear joined the first. “Please, I can’t.”

He tutted, shaking his head. “Ah-ah. Answer my question or I’ll stop completely.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Please, it hurts. So bad, everything hurts.”

He nodded, “Good girl.” He rewarded you with the movement of his hand once more, filling you back up with his fingers and thrusting them into you.

You were blinded by the pleasure and continued to ride it out, unknowingly that he was beginning a cycle. He would have you crying, breaking down in tears and so desperate to cum all over his hand, only to rob you of such pleasure every time you got close to tasting it. And it hurt. All of it hurt, like you were being burned alive. The imaginary flames licked at your flesh and threatened to sear it off your bones.

You didn’t know how many times he’d done this cruel act upon you, how long you’d been laying there with your legs spread open wide and his fingers shoved inside of you, too caught up in the pain and the ecstasy of it all. “C-Crane,” you muttered, your lips and your tongue lazy with dissatisfaction. “Please.”

You could tell how fun this experiment was for him, and not even in just the sadistic way. He watched you closely, his eyes hooded and dark and his cheeks pink. His cock was still hard, maybe harder still in a painful way that your useless sounds helped him to ignore.

He hummed deeply, considering another dance with desperation. But he let out a deep sigh and shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, his thumb, which had been lazily rubbing too-slow circles on your clit, picking up once again.

And you were so scared it was a trick, that he would pull away and leave you to sob again at the loss of stimulation. The knot built, the dam overflowed, and as you reached your breaking point, you gasped when it all came loose. Your back arched, and you went blind as the pleasure crashed down on you like nothing you’d ever felt.

You cried out his name—or some garbled version of his name that came with not being in touch with your own body. You moaned, breathing too fast and dizzying yourself with your harsh breaths as you did. Crane smiled as he watched you, coaxing you through it as he noted just how good this orgasm must have felt for you.

“Look at you go,” he smiled, still rubbing your clit as he watched the last spasms of pleasure shoot through you. You were so pretty like this, writhing in bed as you came on his hand for the first time, whimpering and whining like a dog.

He pulled his hand from you, darting his tongue to lick the bottom lip of his wolfish grin.

As you began to settle, you let in a deep breath to fill your lungs, laying back lazily as you were offered a moment of stillness. All the pain from before was gone, the thumping in your heart calmed to a slightly quickened ut otherwise rhythmic beat. You could breathe.

Crane was staring at his watch, looking between you and it as he seemed to time something. You paid him little mind, soaking up the calm for as long as you had it.

It was all too soon that the pain began to slip back in, first as a distant sting in your head, then as the dull ache in your stomach. As your breath sped again at the slowly increasing ache, so too did your heart once more. Then the sensitivity of your skin, the burn of your goosebumps rubbing against the sheets or clashing cruelty with the air.

Unable to take so much, you began to cry. “Professor,” you spoke shakily. “Fuck, it hurts. It fucking hurts so bad. I can't—I can't, I can't.”

“Two minutes and seventeen seconds,” he stamped. “It took two minutes for the aphrodisiac to kick in again after the first orgasm has been reached.”

He stared at you, rubbing his bottom lip and sighing with a distant smile. “Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he mumbled. “To make you cum over and over and over again until you're,” he sighed longingly, his eyes fluttering and his jaw clenching with an urge he tried to conceal, “sobbing, trembling in my hands, begging me to stop.”

You shuddered, wanting it so badly but also dreading the opposite of this torture, where you would never stop shaking, never be able to calm as he pulled an orgasm after you one right after the other.

He shook himself out of his daydream. “But, I'm not sure how long you've got. That's an experiment for another day.”

You wanted to say something, but you were at your point in desperation where words were harder and harder to form unless the adrenaline really kicked in.

He positioned himself on the bed, his hand smoothing over your sides. “I bet you need me now, don't you?” Whining pathetically and not caring anymore about sounding decent, you nodded. “Yes, you do. You need me to fuck you, hhh? Take you nice and rough from behind. You need me to fuck you nice and deep, little slut?”

You nodded again, crying, “Please.”

He stood on his knees in front of you, taking your body in his hands and flipping you around, not caring for a moment that you were still tied to the bed frame with your arms now crossed.

He pulled you up on your knees and put your ass on display for him. His hands slapped down on your ass, rubbing harshly on the skin as you whined.

“Be a good girl and beg me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he breathed.

Had you not begged enough? You couldn't count the amount of times you'd told him “Please, professor, please,” and been denied for the sake of his sadism?

Still, you were desperate and you could care less at the moment about his urge to humiliate you. So you did beg, your pounding heart squeezing tears out of your eyes.

“Please, Crane,” you sobbed. “Please, I need you so fucking bad. It hurts, please.”

You were about to continue pouring your heart out when he cut you off. “Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Calm down. It's not that serious.”

He took his cock in his hand, stroking himself a couple times as he spread your folds for him. In one push, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your tight pussy. He groaned roughly as you clenched around his cock and moaned.

“So fucking tight,” he sighed. “You've been needing this, haven't you?”

You moaned deep in your throat, melting at the feeling of him buried so deep. He chuckled, high off the sight of you so weak. He pulled out of you, an agonizingly slow drag that burned at your nerves until he suddenly thrust back in with a harsh thrust. You lost your breath, your lungs squeezed tight at the pleasure.

He grunted, doing it again and again and again as he just kept holding you tighter, pulling you back to meet each thrust. The smack of his hips against your ass was loud and followed in quick succession as he gave you no time between each thrust to recover.

You felt like your brain had melted, reduced to. a pile of mush in your head as you let yourself be devoured by the pure ecstasy of each thrust staving off the pain of the toxin burning you out.

You gripped the sheets, clenching and unclenching and trying so hard to keep it together as he split you open on his cock.

Crane was hardly keeping it together himself, gripping your waist as he fucked into you from behind. His hair had fallen over his eyes, which were dark and crazed. He had you in his clutches—you, his prey and he, your predator, his teeth and claws in your flesh and bone.

“Is this everything you imagined?” he huffed, bringing a hand to wrap around your throat and pull you up.

You clenched tighter around him and felt your limbs going weak—if he hadn't been holding you up, you would have fallen against the bed again.

“W-What?” you gasped, small and pathetic.

He laughed darkly. “You think I didn't know? What, you thought I couldn't see the way you stared at me during my lectures? You thought I didn't see your glances at my crotch, wondering how big my cock was? Huh? How good it would feel if I fucked you?”

You just kept moaning, unable to hold in your pleasures sobs. He fucked you a little harder, pulling more and more out of you as he did. “Why do you think I chose you, huh?” he taunted, laughing again. “You were perfect for the role. My cock hungry student who would do anything to impress me. Fuck, you were practically begging to be the subject of this experiment.”

It was hard to listen to him when you could barely focus on your own pleasure. Your arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating you in slick. He just kept fucking you, drunk on the pleasure.

“N-Need,” you stuttered, trying to form the words as your tongue was not your own. “Mm-fuck, needa cum.”

He didn't say anything this time as he pressed his finger to your clit. You went limb, letting yourself fall onto the bed as you whined pathetically.

“Look at you,” he smiled, his head tilted back as he relished in the squeeze of your cunt. “My little fucking whore. Does it feel good?” He laughed again, rubbing your clit a little faster. “Are you gonna cum on my cock like a pathetic slut? Hm?”

To answer his question, you did. You let out a choked cry when you came, your eyes rolling back as you went blind with the pleasure that crashed down on you. Your whole body shattered, and your thighs shook at the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffed as you began tighter, your pussy fluttering around him and only bringing him closer to his own longed-for release. “That's a good fucking girl.”

Your head was filled with white-noise as you floated in that space between orgasms, where your whole body was numb to everything else going on. As he kept fucking you, it didn't last long. You came to and found yourself thrown into another dance of lust.

You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave to you. “You like that? You like being ruined by me? Hm?” he breathed, still rubbing your clit, even as you squirm.

You didn't respond, overcome by whining moans. But that was more amusing. “I know you do,” he said. “You liked being fucked dumb, don't you?”

His hips continued to snap into yours, shoving deeper and rougher. His finger on your clit continued to build you up, higher and higher.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he asked, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he kept fucking into you. “Yeah? You're squeezing my cock like you are.”

You managed to nod your head and nothing more, the knot building again in your stomach getting so tight, so close to another blinding release. You braced for it as it grew closer.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, too,” he breathed. “Gonna cum—so deep inside you. You'll be dripping with me, sweetheart.”

You mewled, closer and closer to–

A loud cry tore from your throat as you came again, blinded and devoured and reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess as the pleasure shook through your body like a rattle.

Unable to hold himself in anymore, he moaned roughly as he spilled so deep inside of you. He gripped you roughly, pulling you back against his cock as he buried himself deep, grinding into you as he fucked his cum inside so you were stuffed with it.

“Fuck, I love this tight little cunt,” he huffed. “Perfect for me.” Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing him tight as you squelched and gushed around him.

You lay limp against the sheets as the blood roared in your ears. After a moment, when he'd caught his breath and came down from his high, he pulled out of you and let you fall against the bed.

He breathed, letting out a deep sigh. He looked down at you, your spent body still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. He picked up your leg, pulling it apart to see your pussy, stuffed and leaking his cum.

He could have cum again at the mere sight of you, your messiness, your exhaustion. He dropped your leg and sat next to your limp body.

“Now,” he said, another breath leaving his lungs. “How do you feel?”

You just lay there, letting out a tiny moan after a while as your only response as you tried to recover. All the pain had disappeared, and all that was left was the heaviness in your limbs and the sore muscles to come.

He hummed a laugh. “I bet.” He reached for his glasses, putting them on the bridge of his nose once more and adjusting them.

He stood, walking somewhere in the room as your eyes followed him. When he picked up a camera hidden in the corner capturing everything that just happened, you couldn't do anything but think about how you wanted to watch it back and see just how much he'd wrecked your body.

He stopped the recording, setting the camera down with a smile. He looked at you again, kneeling in front of the bed as he rested his chin on his hands. “So many things for us to do, so many experiments to run. And now I've got you,” he chuckled, “my own personal lab rat.”

You watched him lazily, the exhaustion pulling at your system. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss, moving as much as you could as your lips melded together. It breathed life into you, more life than it should have.

He pulled away all too soon, standing up and turning away from you as he left the room. You laid there a moment longer, thinking back over the events of the night. His own personal lab rat.

You smiled.

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89-blog Tag yourself here...

[violawayne]

If you know this story , please send it to me! Pllleeeaaasssee 💔I lost it (I hope the writer didn't delete it)

-

There is a fanfic I used to watch a year and a half ago, about Tim Drake after he saved Bruce from the timeline and lost his spleen the family were terrible to him,

Jason and Damian kept bullying him while Bruce and Dick ignored him and one day he fell unconsious in the office of Wayne Tech company, and he had a cancer, I think in his lung? And he had to dismember a part of his lung,

but he didn't want to go to any doctor and let the news spread about him to everyone, so he heard there was a doctor that treats the criminals who can't afford to go to a hospital and he had a sweet young daughter who lives with him, suddenly Tim asked him to help cure him,

and the doctor was shocked about how Tim was very young and why he didn't anyone to know who his family are? And above all that, he found bruises on his body and assumed that Bruce Wayne abuses his kids, anyways, alot of events occurs, the doctor and the daughter grow attached to Tim, and after awhile, he asks for help from Harley And Ivy to make a serum for Tim, because he doesn't have his spleen.

And I forgot to include that Riddler's relationship with Tim is healthy and strong and Tim even calls him "uncle".

[kurticus]

Monitor Duty Company

“So I have been meaning to ask, what exactly are you?”

Danny was floating through the open space of the Watchtower bridge. Idly tossing a fist sized red bouncy ball with a yellow lightning bolt pattern off of the gray metal walls. The question came from the red speedster, Flash, who was lounging in the central chair of the room with his feet propped up on the control panel. Supposedly Flash was watching those monitors. But despite this being the third time Danny had visited the space station, he’d never seen Flash monitor anything. He just made conversation and told stories that Danny could not decide if he believed or not.

The question caught Danny as he sent the ball flying. He fumbled and twisted upside down as he barely caught the ball on its return. Nervously he straightened and replied, “What am I? Uh. Kind of a deep question isn’t it?” 

Flash waved his hand dismissively. “I mean the ghosty stuff. Not really my area of expertise. But you don’t strike me as a ghost.”

“Ha. Not ghostly enough for you?” Danny put his hands over his head and made his eyes glow. “Am I not spooky enough?” He waggled his fingers for extra effect.

In a blur Flash was standing next to him, giving Danny an over the top examination. Half bowing as he hummed in consideration. Then in an instant he was back in his chair spinning slightly. “Nope. Kid you don’t seem like a ghost at all.”

Danny let gravity find him again and drifted back to the floor with a light thump. He stood up straight and eyed a glance at his reflection in one of the grand windows of the space station. His hair was still white and he radiated a soft glow. Slightly annoyed, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I have met ghosts. Sometimes they seem like normal people. Sometimes they are invisible voices that try to creep you out. Sometimes they turn into monsters and throw cars at you. Heck we have a part-time leaguer named Deadman. Nobody can see him at all until he decides to take over someone's body. I’ve never seen a ghost shoot lasers or make glowing shields like you do.” 

Suddenly a pencil eraser from somewhere on the nearby desk bounced off Danny’s face. Danny flinched and rubbed where he’d been hit. “Ow, stop that!” Looking back he saw Flash toying with a pencil innocently.

“Besides,” Flash continued, pointing the pencil at the ghost boy, “You are solid. Lots of spooky things have to work to be solid. You default to it. You gotta choose to go through stuff like J’on does. So I figure, not a ghost. Am I right?”

“Well, I am a ghost.” Danny tossed the ball back to the speedster. “But that is kind of a blanket term that gets complicated fast. Lots of things call themselves ghosts. Technically speaking, I am an Ecto-Entity.” Danny pronounced this with formality and a stiff back. Thinking of the way his parents said it. “Also more politely known as a Ghost of the Infinite Realms.”

“Infinite Realms huh? Sounds spacious.”

“You have no idea.” Danny picked his foot up and tucked it under himself. Then slipping past gravity he pulled the other foot up so he was sitting on nothing with crossed legs. Drifting slightly he continued. “Also called the ghost zone, it is an endless dimension of energy and emotion that exists in the shadow of reality. Basically emotions and memories from this world can imprint on the energy of the ghost zone. Then that energy forms stuff like me.” 

“So,” Flash smiled. “Just to be clear, you aren’t some creature that escaped from Hell to haunt the living?”

Danny flashed a crooked smile and shifted his eyes to a bright frost blue. “Keep the jokes up, I know how well you handle iced floors.” Still drifting lightly while sitting in air, Danny softly blew air at Flash. Dusting him is a light coating of frost and snow. 

“Cute.” Flash shivered slightly and brushed a few snowflakes from his shoulders. “So not the exorcism, don’t go into the light kind of ghost?”

Danny thought back to the flash of pain and light from the accident. “Uh, well… There can be some overlap…” 

**************************************************************

This conversation takes place after Danny has worked with the Justice League a few times and built some trust. Flash, after learning of his love for space, invites him to spend time at the watchtower. Giving him someone to talk to during his shifts on monitor duty.

I haven't written much myself, but there have been so many great posts lately about Danny interacting with the DCU. I might have to start my take as well.

Plus the question of how the lore interacts between the different shows is really compelling to me.

Let me know what you think. I haven't written much so I am sure there are plenty of pointers I could use. Hit me.

[eleanore-delphinium]

Thoughts?

What should I update? Or what kind of miserable fic can I write? So many questions... What to do...

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 29

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant, Lucy Lane, Damian Wayne, Felicity Smoak, Streaky the Supercat, Martha Kent, Selina Kyle, Talia Al Ghul, Lucius Fox, Maggie Sawyer, Alex Danvers, Jason Todd, Otis Graves, Lex Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28

Note: Sorry for the long wait guys! I have been suffering from an assortment of medical issues the last couple of months and is still ongoing. I used to be able to do multiple stories in a week, but it just took me two months to come out with this chapter with everything going on. I won't be able to go back to how I was doing things weekly, but I hope to be able to come out with another chapter in a shorter amount of time. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy what happens next!

Kara stared lovingly at Lena sleeping peacefully next to her. She lightly traced with her fingers the freckles along Lena’s back. 

I have never been this happy before!

Kara happily stared at Lena for a couple of minutes until Lena started to stir.

Lena yawned and asked, “Have you been staring at me all night?”

Kara chuckled and said, “No, only for the last half hour.”

Lena turned around so that she was facing Kara and caressed her face.

Lena smirked and asked, “Do you like what you see?”

Kara leaned into Lena to kiss her on the lips which caused Lena to purr in contentment.

After a couple of minutes, Kara leaned back and said, “I enjoyed every breathtaking sight of you.”

Lena blushed and said, “You know the way to a girl’s heart.”

Kara smirked and said, “I hope amongst other things as well after last night.”

Lena chuckled while she swatted playfully Kara’s arm and said, “You are incorrigible.”

Kara chuckled and cuddled up against Lena and said, “You know you love it.”

Lena smiled while caressing Kara’s face and said, “That I do.”

Lena leaned in and kissed Kara. They held in each other’s embrace until Kara leaned back and sighed. 

As Kara lazily started to trace the freckles along Lena’s shoulder, she said, “If it wasn’t for the STEM panel today, I would stay here with you all day.”

Lena smiled and said, “I would rather stay in bed with you too, but this is a good cause. I am honored that Barry asked me to participate in this.”

Kara smiled and said, “Me too. It is nice to work with Barry on something that doesn’t revolve around a crisis.”

Lena smiled and said, “Hopefully, this is a sign of more things to come. Maybe, Flash and Supergirl could do an event at the hospital.”

Kara pouted and asked, “Getting tired of little old me huh?”

Lena looked at Kara mortified and said, “It is nothing like that…We work so well together….It is just that I was talking to Sam and she suggested maybe building up a rooster of heroes for the hospital especially since you have a friendship with the Flash and possibly the Bat family….I knew I should have kept this thought to myself….Damn it…..”

Kara quickly placed a finger on Lena’s lips which startled her into silence. 

Kara smirked and said, “You are so cute when you are flustered.”

Lena pouted and said, “You’re teasing me aren’t you.”

Kara chuckled while pulling Lena in closer and kissing her on the forehead and said, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist.”

Lena turned away and pouted more. 

Kara chuckled and cuddled Lena closer to her and asked, “Would it make you feel better that I have talked to Barry and members of the Bat-family and they have agreed to help with any event related to the hospital? All they would need is a heads up.”

Lena looked at Kara surprised and asked, “Really?”

Kara smiled while caressing Lena’s face and said, “Really. They all see how much good that you are doing in society and want to help.” Kara leaned forward and kissed Lena on the lips and whispered in her ears, “Plus, they see how crazy I am about you.”

Lena blushed and said, “I didn’t realize.”

Kara smiled while caressing Lena’s face and said, “I wish you could see  your own brilliance.”

Lena blushed while looking down shyly and said, “Keep saying things like that and I will end up with a big ego.”

Kara chuckled and said, “Let’s just start off by using our collective egos to inspire future girls in STEM.”

As Kara started to get up from the bed, she stretched, put on a robe, and said, “I can make us breakfast while you get ready.”

Lena looked at Kara coyly and said, “Or we could both take a shower together. Save on water and energy.”

Read the rest on AO3

[kaufmann-6]

I was talking to some internet friends a while ago about how many bookmarks we had on ao3 and saw a similar comment about it today here on tumblr so now I'm curious.

How many kudos do most of us have? Vote and tell us in the tags!

I'm so excited to see the results! Reblog this post so more people can participate!

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

The baby in the cradle stared at Dick with a more serious look than babies should have, a hint of Talia's green and decidedly Bruce's face.

He seemed angry at the world, and he wanted to study this new enemy he faced.

Dick thought he was unfairly cute.

[theycallme-ook]

Though Damian considered himself a capable and responsible person, being tasked with the care of a gravely injured Terrence and a frightened Matthew when the three of them are unceremoniously dumped in another dimension is proving to be a serious test of his fortitude. How can he trust himself around them when he was their enemy only a year ago? How can they trust him? How can he let these strangers around his little siblings? And when a crisis in their host dimension arises, will they all be able to work together with an alternate version of their family to stop it?

Chapter 18: Terry and Damian about how not-worried and not-injured they all are. Matt climbs away.

[entityupdates]

New fic! It’s titled Signal.

Summary: Raccoon has Tchotchke send out the signal for an emergency meeting. To the group’s surprise, another pet has been able to hear the signal all this time. Krypto joins the group!

Rating: K+/ General Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandom(s): Housebroken (Cartoon 2021), DC Comics, Super Pets, Superman

Characters: Honey, Krypto, Chief, Tchotchke, Raccoon, Chico, Max, Tabitha, The Grey One, Nibbles, Shel, Diablo, Elsa

Relationships: Krypto & The Group, Tchotchke & Raccoon, Past Honey/ Armando

Other Tags: Crossover, Oneshot, First Meeting

Warnings: Minor swearing

Word Count: 2.2K

Chapter Count: 1 (Oneshot)

Year(s) Written: 2022

Status: Complete

Where To Read: Ao3

[hneypot]

𝐖𝐈𝐏𝐒

Untitled series | BNHA

summary tba…

Untitled | K. Bakugo | BNHA

summary tba… but smth angsty…hopefully

Untitled | C. Kent | DC

can’t be bothered to style your hair? not to fear, superboy is here!

Untitled | J. Todd | DC (Titans)

summary tba…

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 3

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Kara was seated across from Lena in her office. They were both just staring at each other with Samantha looking at them nervously from the other side of the room. It felt like they were in a never ending don’t blink challenge except that it had only been just a few minutes. Lena’s startled stare from early had turned icy. Kara had to admit to herself that Lena was impressive. The girl exuded confidence and intimidation with her stare, but it wasn’t enough to scare Kara off. She just kept giving her brightest smile while she waited. After another 2 minutes, Lena blinked, sighed, and shook her head. Kara had to stifle the chuckle that threaten to come out of her mouth. 

I may be able to wear her down just yet.

“Why are you here, Supergirl?”

“As I was telling your co-worker over there, I am here to volunteer for the hospital. I saw that you needed people to interact with the….”

Lena shook her head and said, “No, No. No. Don’t give me that professional bullshit! Why are you really here?”

The raven haired beauty leaned forwarded in her chair with her eyes issuing a challenge. 

Ah, she can be insightful. But would she be receptive to my true motives though?

“Honestly, I would like to use this opportunity to set myself apart from the one you called if I remembered correctly, a pompous jackass.”

“I knew I should have paid extra to have this whole office sound proof,” Lena muttered. 

Kara chuckled to herself. Lena was proving herself to be more and more interesting. She just wished she could be completely honest with her. It wasn’t quite a lie that she told her. She hated constantly being compared to the golden child that is her cousin. At least that is what the public believes. They already established a narrative in the papers that she was not only his cousin but that she was younger than him and had took her in like she was some poor defenseless child. 

If only they knew that I am not only technically older, but had to change that bumbling idiots diapers. 

“Some would see this as some type of ploy given our families history,” mused Lena. 

Hmmm, not taking the original statement. Going to have to push just a bit harder.

“I do see your point, but I think this can be an opportunity to help each other.”

Lena narrowed her eyes and scoffed. 

“And how exactly is that?”

Kara smiled brightly and said, “I did a quick research on this hospital last night. You poured a good portion of your money into this place to create state of the art equipment to provide the best quality of care for the children here. However, you have no investors to keep the cash flow coming. Several papers have done hit pieces which suggest you are working with Lex at the hospital in order to experiment on kids.”

“Which are all lies!”

Kara smirked and said, “I know that, but the public needs help with figuring that out.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I propose a partnership between the both of us. You can use photos and videos of me interacting with the kids at the hospital, and I can make an appearance at the hospital’s benefits and events to create a positive spin to rehab this place’s image.”

“And what would you want in return?”

“I just need to work off my $10,000. Plus, it would be an added bonus if this helps people to stop mistaking me for my cousin.”

Lena sighed and placed her head in her hands. 

“I don’t know about all of this.”

Sam came over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Lena, this really could be we have been waiting for.”

“There has to be another way,” Lena muttered. 

Kara leaned back into her chair with a coy smile. 

“I guess the question you need to ask yourself is if you want your pride to come before the hospital since you don’t have enough money to keep it open another two months.”

Lena smashed her fist on her desk and looked enraged. 

“Hey! That is not fair. I can stretch my funds a little longer until we find somebody…”

Kara brightly smiled while leaning forward. 

“Do tell. Who exactly will be helping? The public hates you. Other superheroes seem to have the same perception as well since I am the only superhero that has applied to your posting other than the trolls since it went live over a year ago.”

The hate for Lena wasn’t exaggerated. The vitriol that Kara read in the paper about Lena made her skin crawl. The other superheroes weren’t much better. Some wanted to torture Lena to find out what she knew about Lex, but Clark stopped them. That startled Kara considering his hatred towards her brother. He said that going after her would go against everything they stood for. Kara often wondered if that was really true or if he was just giving the politically correct response. Kara stared back at Lena. She looked like she was in emotional turmoil twisting her hands like they were on fire.

Sam shook her head and sighed. 

“Lena, we are at the point where it is this or your mother and you know how your mother is.”

Lena placed her head in her arms on the desk and groaned for a moment. 

She looked back up with a grimace on her face. 

“Alright, we have a deal.”

Kara smiled brightly and put out her hand. Lena looked at it with a frown at first but gradually took her hand and shook it.

“Trust me! This will be a start of a beautiful relationship.”

“If only I could believe that fully.”

“Aww. Don’t sulk. I think we can make SuperCorp into a thing.”

Lena raised an eyebrow while staring at Kara.

“SuperCorp?”

“Yeah. A Super and a Corporate woman putting their families petty differences aside to make the world a better place. You can use it in marketing to promote the activities and benefits you want me to come too.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Sam chuckled and said, “It sounds perfect. I can already think of the things we can do with that theme.”

She quickly began jotting several ideas down in her phone.

Lena stared incredulously at her friend and loudly whispered, “Don’t encourage her!”

She turned back to Kara with reigned in passivity. 

“How do I contact you about upcoming events?”

Kara pulled from her pocket a small hand held device and handed it to Lena. She looked back up at Kara with confusion.

“You really just want me to press just the red button and you come running straight here?”

Kara chuckled and said, “While the red button is for emergencies, there are several other smaller buttons that you can used on the device.”

Lena frowned and looked at it more closely. She didn’t notice before, but there were several buttons, a phone and a pen. She pressed the phone icon which produced a holographic keypad where you can dial out and make a call. She noticed it had a contact list which currently only listed Supergirl, but didn’t display the number. She pressed the pen icon which brought up a holographic keyboard where she could type out messages. 

She looked up at Kara impressed but quickly changed her expression to passiveness. 

“This will do just nicely.”

She is so cute trying to hide how much she likes the tech.

Kara was jolted out of thought by a noise coming through her comms. 

“Supergirl, this is Batman. We need you in Central City. Gorilla Grodd and Solomon Grundy are raiding S.T.A.R. Labs.”

Kara sighed because she had been enjoying the tense conversation with the intriguing Ms. Luthor. 

“I am sorry to have to cut this meeting short. Duty calls.”

With that, Kara quickly flew from the room. 

It may take some time, but I think I can win Ms. Luthor over. 

[freshoffthebeats]

DC ff recs

★彡fanficiton 彡★ ✬drabbles✬ character inspo stuff

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

Jason fails to change his shifts. This allows him to meet and befriend Batmsn's little stalker and decide that they are pack.

[azurendays]

The idea that fanfic is inherently more diverse and progressive than mainstream media is an argument I can barely concede with. Maybe in terms of queer content, just maybe, but there’s a lot of shit y’all do that mainstream media does too and some of you repackage it and think you’re different.

Because if we are gonna have this discussion let’s talk about how many of you treat non-white characters, especially black characters, and double emphasis black women characters. Let’s talk about how some of you treat disabled characters. And woman characters. You guys are fucking incapable of being normal or having an ounce of nuance it drives me nuts.

I’ve been in the DC comic community too fucking long and I see how many of you move (ahem Fanon). Duke is either not included or his character is unrecognizable because god forbid someone suggest you read the actual content of a character you are writing. Cass is, also, a nothing character that’s used to say “brother” and is the perfect girl that has no flaws or character or nuance. Damian. Damian. The shit some of you write about him is so horrendously racist you should be put on a kill list. Asking some of you to be normal about him and his brown family is apparently a Herculean task that you give up on not even half way through. And god help any female character that even remotely interacts with any of the male Bats

Don’t get wrong, I love fanficiton. But let’s not fucking lie now, none of us are that stupid