The Curse Of Hope
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Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.
The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.
“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”
That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.
Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.
“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.
The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.
“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”
Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.
The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”
Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.
-Or-
Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.
Luckily, Danny can provide that help.
But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.
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DPXDC Prompt #108 Part 2
The thought sounded ridiculous and yet Damian found himself unable to completely scoff at the idea. He himself had seen some strange things in his lifetime and it wouldn’t be fair to completely dismiss the idea outright.
“I’m unsure what your point is but I guess I suppose they exist.” Damian eventually said.
Danny chuckled at this, “I guess you're not from Amity Park huh?” he joked.
Damian scoffed, “I’ve never even heard of that place but I gather that’s where I am at the moment?” He mentally filed the name to search later.
“Yeah, born and raised. Anyways, we’re the most haunted city in America. Ghost’s are real, you’ll probably meet one at some point. They’re uh… kind of attracted to me? Kind of like… “ He trailed off for a moment, likely lost in thought trying to come up with an example. Damian was going to call him out for spacing, they were probably running out of time before one of his siblings or Pennyworth came to check on him. Luckily Danny continued, “Hey, what city am I in right now, maybe there’s a comparison I can use?” Danny asked.
“Tt, did you not even think to use GPS to find your location before calling me?” Damian scoffed, his supposed ‘soulmate’ was incompetent, “You're in Gotham.”
“Gotham? Well I guess you could compare them to Batman’s rogues then, however they tend to play a little rough. It’s kind of how ghost’s bond.” Danny’s explanation made it sound like he was the one roughhousing with these ghosts. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going but he let him continue, “so well… this next part’s kind of hard to explain especially without proof but well… I’m what the other ghost’s call a halfa. I’m half ghost half human.”
Damian opened his mouth to retort, the notion that you could be half dead was ridiculous really. But as soon as he opened his mouth a cold blue wisp wafted out of his mouth shocking him. An unfamiliar feeling washes over him and he looked down in terror as he started sinking into the bed.
“Explain your power’s now, I appear to be sinking into your bed.” Damian demanded. The feeling was odd, it was almost as if the bed didn’t exist.
“Uh, right, Okay… so, it’s kind of emotion based? Take a few deep breaths and you’ll be able to ease yourself back out.”
Damian did just as Danny instructed and took a few deep breaths. Soon he was able to solidify and sit back up on the bed. Suddenly, a knocking sound was heard through the phone.
Shit, just like he thought, they took too long and one of his siblings came to check on him. He thought it was sweet that they cared, but he’d never voice this thought out loud to anyone.
“Danny, I need you to listen very carefully. I need you to open the door and hand the phone over to them. Don’t say anything, understand?”
“Uh Okay?” Damian could tell Danny was raising an eyebrow at this but he did as Damian told him anyway.
“Uh, Hello?” The voice on the phone said, Damian recognized it as Tim Drake-Waynes.
“Drake, Please step into the room and listen to my instructions,” Damian waited a moment as he heard the door shut. “Alright, meet my soulmate Danny, apparently his parents study soulmates and they did something and now we’re in each other’s bodies.”
He heard Danny sigh, “It was only supposed to strengthen the soulmate pull. It’s not my fault they don’t know about my weird biology.”
“Weird Biology?” Drake parroted, “do they not know you're a meta?”
There was a pause before Danny spoke, “No, I’m not a meta… but for the simplicity of things, and this conversation, sure, you can call me a meta.” There was a tiredness to his voice, as if he had this conversation with someone else before.
“The name’s Tim,” he told Danny, then Drake suddenly said in an excited voice, “hey, let’s let him in on the family secret and prank Bruce. Let’s tell everyone else about it and see how long it takes him to figure out it isn’t you… we’ll have to train Danny of course. If he really is your soulmate he’s going to find out eventually and it might be good to prepare him ahead of time” The idea sounded ridiculous to Damian but at the same time, he was recently having some doubts about his Father’s attention on him. Drake had a point, if Danny really was his soulmate, he’d find out eventually.
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Danny wasn’t sure what was going on, after he handed the phone off to Tim, they talked about some family secret. Soon Tim hung up the phone and turned to Danny, “Damian say’s Sam and Tucker are there and they’ll call back when he’s back up to speed which means that we need to get up to speed ourselves,” he glared at Danny. Danny, who was still wearing Pajamas stood there as Tim approached him. Once they were a yard apart Tim spoke again, “Listen, the secret I’m about to tell you must not be told to anyone outside of this house, got it?” He fixed a hard glare at Danny.
Danny shrunk back for a moment before a thought occurred to him, “why don’t I tell you my secret as well? Damian is already learning by now and since you're his brother you’ll probably be able to help out.” Secrets for secrets, that way they would both be afforded some leverage in the situation.
Tim seemed to think for a moment with a hand on his chin, he nodded for a moment before looking up at Danny, “Alright, but tell me yours first.”
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Last week I had a full 9-5 day of meetings with no break but it really got me thinking about how much more fun that could’ve been with my Bluetooth controlled vibrator 🙈 Especially with someone like CEO!Bucky who has your calendar and knows what a long day you have ahead of you.
You received a message early in the morning telling you to make sure your toy was fully charged and slipped inside you by 9:30 and there was no way you weren’t going to follow that instruction.
The anticipation alone was enough to let the toy slip in easily and you found yourself distracted enough to almost forget it was there by 10am.
Around 10:15 you felt it start up and it almost made you jump. It wasn’t too intense, just unexpected but you could tell you’d kept control of your expression. People probably wouldn’t notice on a video call anyway.
‘That’s nice.’ You send the text off quickly, hardly looking away from the laptop screen.
‘Good. I’m pacing you.’ The reply almost drew a shiver from you. You can just imagine yourself sitting here all day, writhing in desperation by 5pm.
Incrementally, the intensity of the toy creeps up and up over the next hour until it reaches around half its maximum intensity and then it drops off again.
You’re convinced you’re bound to be dripping. Your panties are absolutely soaked through, the insides of your thighs are slick under your dress and you almost whimper each time the toy changes slightly.
‘Still enjoying yourself?’ The text makes you hesitate because you’re almost not sure that you are. Do you need more or less? Any more and you’ll undoubtedly cum and you’ll have to hide it from the people on the screen. Plus, you’re quite confident that your climax won’t be a reason for him to stop. If you ask for less though, you’re stuck here all day, unsatisfied and frustrated.
‘Fuck, yes.’ That feels like the best response you can manage.
‘Good.’ You hardly have a chance to read the notification before the toy ramps up inside you, far more intense than the 50% you’d been getting.
The vibrations are wonderful and within a few seconds, you’ve flicked your camera off so you can grind you hips pathetically, riding out an incredibly overdue high against your office chair.
It’s not long after that the toy drops back down again, slowing to a light buzzing that keeps you dizzy but not overworked.
‘If you turn your camera off again, I might just bend you over your desk and let them all watch while I fuck you myself.’
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uuuughghghg, BABES!
Did... did we just forget this entire exchange?
Crowley coaxes Aziraphale over to the tentative beginnings of being consciously on "their own side" by confronting him with all he stands to lose, all the wonders of this world that Heaven refused to welcome.
and now here he is again, pointing up to the heavens, adding one more thing to that list. There is no music that brings you joy, no charming little restaurants where they know you... no nightingales. And isn't that such a tragic hail Mary? To lay oneself bare like that, to hope of all hopes that you are beloved enough to say "I am not in heaven, I am not allowed to love you there." and have it be enough?
When I first watched this scene, the possibility of Crowley saying "our love is over" here never even occurred to me, and I still don't think that's what's happening, not even for a second. But...
Aziraphale sure does.
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Fëanaro sewing little stuffed animals for his sons as babies, because his mother had made him one and he treasures it.
Fëanaro seeing the way his tiny nephew looks longingly at the animal that Makalaurë carries and so sewing Findekano a little eagle all his own.
(Only because he doesn’t want the son of Nolofinwë to steal Makalaurë’s toy, of course. The pleading eyes and bright grin upon receiving the gift have Nothing To Do With It.)
Continuing the tradition for each new child born to the family, until there is a veritable menagerie of stuffed animals.
Idril giving hers to Eärendil, who in turn tucks it into the crib of his sons.
(It is always warm. Warm as though it is lit up by something inside, some feeling that Idril’s great uncle would forever deny. A warmth that had been invaluable on the Ice.)
A soft toy that, though patched and worn, is recognisable to those attacking the children’s home.
A soft toy that, eventually, many millennia later, makes its way back to Valinor. Held in the arms of one who never had such a gift, one who needs the warmth and love that infuses it.
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