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minty364 · 1 month

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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.

__________________________

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.”

#dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #writing prompt #poor danny #I honestly don’t have the time to write right now #I’ll do what I can but updates are going to be sporadic #I’m working on a lot of projects like video essay type things so let me know if it sounds interesting #I own a fuck ton of video games so I thought I’d try to branch out a bit in the content I make #Danny and Damian are soulmates #dead serious #Probably a bit ooc #I dissociated a bit writing this #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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Suggesting/Requesting Eddie having a crush on the valiant knight Steve Dustin goes on about, not realizing it's Steve "the Hair" Harrington and the way he reacts when he realizes they're the same dude. Cue adjustment period.

hi! first of all thank you for the prompt 🥰 i slipped and kinda decided to take your ‘valiant knight Steve’ quite literally and made this a medieval/regency au with knight steve and bard eddie, kinda enemies to lovers. it totally got out of hand, so this is part 1, with all my apologies to your original prompt 🤍🌷

Eddie smiles as the fields and forest that surround Hawkins come into view, kissed by the early afternoon sun with more affection and richness than the city probably deserves. It looks different this time of year, the green seems deeper than he left it, and nostalgia paints him a picture of glory and welcome that would make any traveller linger at the sight.

He knows it’s only the magic of coming home, the thrill of having been gone so long that he needs to learn his town a-new, and the curiosity of a poet that makes his heart beat faster; but it’s his life’s blood to embrace all of that. So he spurs on his trusty horse to make it home even just a minute sooner.

The people’s reactions to his arrival come in multitudes, though Eddie can respect the healthy dose of mistrust with which they regard him. He has made a name for himself after all, a bard more than a jester these days, but most people don’t tend to forget the pretty face they chased out of the city on multiple occasions.

He lifts his head in greeting as he passes the elderly Wheelers as they’re tending to the flowers lining their windows, and grins with glee at both the disapproving scoff and the wary nod he gets in return.

He’s in good spirits. Great spirits, in fact, the sun shining down on him, welcoming him and lighting familiar paths for him to tread again after years of absence. Hawkins will see his glory, his success, his victory, and it will pale in jealousy and regret. They cannot chase him away this time, not with the title of royal bard and winner of the bardic competition three years in a row.

If his travels have taught him anything, it’s that he is pettiness acts as a wonderful motivation.

Of course, he shall also see his friends again. One of his saddlebags is half full with their letters that have accumulated over the years, all of which Eddie has kept for reasons of muse and a heart entirely too soft for his own good.

Most of all, though, even more than proving his worth and success to his city and its people, it is curiosity that brings him home.

Dustin and his friends have been mentioning a most valiant knight, waxing poetic about his glorious deeds and his kinder heart — or, as poetic as they get, which is hardly at all. Which consequently made Eddie write no less than five ballads about the stories they told him, three of which have made it into songs yet, one of which he was made to play in every tavern on his long journey back to Hawkins and to Princess Nancy herself on more than one occasion.

The Knightmærs, as he calls his little collection of poeterey, his pride and joy about a man he has yet to meet. Tales about maidens saved and brothers defeated, hearts stolen and retrieved with the gentlest gestures, and children protected against the evils of night, expecting naught but friendship. And friendship he got.

If Eddie’s heart picks up yet another notch at the thought of meeting this knight as the familiar city walls tower before him, he allows it for a second before announcing himself to the guards. They looked wary upon his approach and blanch now as they hear his name; Eddie does not hide his laughter this time and preens as he is told to ride on.

“Oh, Hawkins, old friend,” he mutters under his breath, not even bothering to hide his smile. “You and I shall have so much fun, shan’t we?”

~*~

He barely makes it to the home he has been sharing with his uncle since the ripe age of twelve with minimal fuss, unsaddling his horse and guiding her to the trough, when he hears it.

“Eddie!”

Halting in his motions the currycomb, he looks up from the rusty brown that shines red like embers in the sun and spots Dustin racing down the street towards him.

He lowers the comb and steps around his horse, grinning at his rapidly approaching friend.

“Why, good day to you, young traveller, what brings you to my humble abode?”

Dustin doesn’t falter in his approach, doesn’t even slow down, and Eddie braces himself for impact. Years of experience have made him quite practiced in handling tackle-hugs, but Dustin has grown quite a bit since he last saw him, and they both stumble backwards when Dustin’s arms wrap around Eddie in a way that seems to press all air out of his lungs. Eddie laughs as he hugs his friend back with as much ferocity.

“I’ve missed you! I was writing to you this morning when I remembered you said you’d come this week. I didn’t think it would be today!”

“I came as soon as I could. Such is the Munson way, or did you forget?”

Dustin shakes his head and finally lets go, though Eddie yearns for another hug. It’s been too long. The boy has grown. He’s hardly a boy anymore, though he shall always remain as such in Eddie’s heart. He smiles and ruffles Dustin’s locks, realising with a pang that they’re almost of a height now.

An ache like homesickness settles in his gut and wears on his heart heavily.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smoothing out the curls he’s put in disarray. “It’s just been too long. And I’ve missed you, too. You’ve grown quite a bit since last we talked.”

“I have!” And he looks so proud of it, too, preening a little under Eddie’s faux scrutiny, and it’s what makes him pull Dustin against his chest again.

Eddie continues taking care of his horse, feeding her, combing through her mane, making sure she has as much comfort as he can provide after their long days of travel. Dustin sits on the fence and watches him tend to her, feeding her the occasional apple when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. He hides his smile and pretends not to see.

God, but he has missed his friend.

Their twosomeness is rudely and entirely too quickly interrupted by Lord Harrington of all people, who hurries down the street in search of Dustin.

Eddie never did like the lord and his pompous appearance coupled with his rude personality. He always acted like a prince among men, subject to many a jest in Eddie’s younger days. On one memorable occasion, Eddie managed to steal the lord’s clothes and swap them with his own, making him walk about in linen rags and torn-up trousers.

Days later, all of his lute strings ripped just as he was getting ready to play at the tavern, and he never messed with Harrington again — even though there was a parcel three days later with new lute strings and his old clothes he had made the lord wear. No note attached to it, because Lords didn’t stoop down to converse with lowly peasants even for revenge.

So, seeing Harrington now on the very first day of his being back, it sours Eddie’s face and his humour.

“Why, Lord Harrington,” he speaks before the man can get a word in. “To what do I owe the displeasure of seeing you here? Have you suffered a fall from grace yet, or was it a hit in the head that left you disoriented, bringing you to my humble abode?”

Harrington frowns at him, though Eddie deems to detect confusion more than distaste.

And then he has the audacity of not even answering to Eddie’s ruse, simply ignoring him and instead turning around to Dustin.

“Dustin, Master Clarke is expecting you. I will not cover for you once more.”

“But—“

“Spare me,” Harrington says, hands on his hips now, and Eddie is starting to feel defensive over Dustin. How dare his lordship come and steal his best friend away when he hasn’t even been home for an hour yet?

Before he can get so much as a word in, however, Dustin is already jumping from his perch on the fence and trudging towards Harrington, rounding the man and leading the way up the hill towards the castle.

“I’ll come back later, Eddie,” Dustin says over his shoulder, and then he is gone, rounded the corner, out of his sight.

Harrington, however, lingers. Eddie raises his eyebrows in question and challenge, and the Lord scoffs a little. It’s like he wants to say something — but what could it be? What could Lord Harrington have to say to him, years after they last saw each other?

He does look stunning, Eddie has to admit with a grudge against his self and his integrity. The golden light of the afternoon sun catches in his hair, likening it to strands of gold that kings and queens pay alchemists across the world to procure. Eddie, for a moment, feels like he has found it in Lord Harrington’s hair and the skin of his face, but he quickly snaps out of it, cutting off that particular train of thought before it can run away form him.

“I hear you are a bard of great renown these days.”

The words catch him off his guard, for Eddie was sure that the Lord would not attempt to converse. Yet it seems that propriety still has a tight grip on him.

Does Harrington like his ballads, his plays, his poetry and sonnets? Has he heard them? Or has he heard of them? Has word travelled across the countries, telling of Eddie the Bard and his brave-hearted muse his soul yearns for and his quill bleeds for?

Eddie is not sure which option thrills him more, but whichever one it is, it makes him smile, feeling quite bashful and yet proud.

“So you hear,” he says, approaching the stiff Lord. “What exactly is it that you hear, my Lord?”

He swallows, following Eddie’s steps with his eyes, turning his head when the bard circles him slowly. “I hear you sing of beasts slain and brothers banished, a knight at the heart of your ballads.” Eddie smiles at that, knowing that Harrington has at least heard of two of his Knightmærs. I hear it sounds like mockery, the knight but an object of your hyperbolic fascination and flowery imagination, his pain and bravery nothing to you.”

He stops dead in his tracks, his feet planted right before Harrington. The Lord looks like he is taking personal offence to his works, and it irritates the bard.

“And what, Lord Harrington, would you know of fascination, pain and bravery? I cannot imagine you have faced a lot of hardship in your life, and the only acts of bravery you had to chance upon were mislead in the name of false honour.”

“False honour,” Harrington repeats, his words like poison, sharp and dangerous as the sword’s blade at his hip. “You would know something about that, I imagine, telling stories of which you have no idea. Immortalising glory where there should be sympathy.”

Eddie studies him, the frown between his brows, the hard line of his jaw, set and calmed to keep more words from spilling. Imposing, this Lord is. A sight for sore eyes even in his purely misplaced anger.

Eddie huffs, his eyes travelling between the Lord’s where they are standing so impossibly close.

“Sympathy,” he repeats. “Nobody, my Lord, wants a ballad of sympathy. It is glory that the people seek!” He steps back from Harrington, gesturing with his arms as he dramatically recounts the lessons he has learned over the years, passionate for his craft. “Glory, heroism, heartbreak and love! Yearning and longing and deeds of an aching heart, that is what the people want to hear. That is what deserves to be immortalised in art, in poetry, in song! I shall forgive you for being so painfully unaware of this, my Lord, but I shall not stand to be in your company much longer, calling my work lacking or a mockery when it is borne out of nothing but loyalty, fascination and love.”

They are close again, because Harrington did not step back when Eddie approached him once more, his feet planted like a tree, fierce and strong and unbudging.

It is intoxicating, though Eddie blames half of it on the passion and the rage, on the bravery that possessed him to send the Lord away, or the fierceness with which he came to his muse’s defence.

Harrington swallows again, his eyes wandering over Eddie’s face once more, lingering at his lips, both their jaws set in determination and perhaps a sudden tension.

“Forgive me for insulting you with my company,” he speaks at last, his voice nothing but a rasp. “You will find there is an irony to your words soon. I shall not rob you of that discovery. I ask you do not take it out on our mutual friends when you do, Munson.”

And with one last glance, Harrington turns on his heel and hurries up the hill, too, leaving Eddie puzzled and quite dazed upon the lingering warmth of their close proximity.

When did Harrington become so handsome? There was a fire in his eyes that Eddie got to witness for just the blink of an eye, but he wonders where that comes from, what it means, and what other secrets he holds.

Perhaps, if he cannot meet his muse, the knight Dustin has only ever referred to as Steve, Harrington might serve to inspire a ballad or two himself.

~*~

Harrington catches his eyes on more than one occasion over the next days. Eddie is invited to the castle to play for Princess Chrissy, though she greets him like an old friend and makes him sit close to her at the banquet. Right beside Harrington, who merely nods at Eddie, his fists clenched as Chrissy asks the bard about one of his ballads — the one about the valiant knight slaying a horde of monsters to keep the kingdom’s children safe.

The Lord must really hate Eddie’s work. It fills him with spiteful glee, for some reason, and he makes sure to play and recite all of his Knightmærs that night. Harrington excuses himself when Eddie hasn’t even made it halfway through his songs, and he doesn’t return that night.

He takes personal offence now and vows to make the Lord’s life as difficult as he can.

But still there is no sign of Steve.

Eddie is starting to get frustrated.

He was supposed to be here, stand tall and proud with a smile on his face upon seeing Eddie, sweep him off his feet, make him swoon, dare Eddie to fall in love with the face long after the name.

His mood is sour, and only sours further when Harrington rounds the corner and stumbles upon Eddie who is tuning his lute for tonight’s banquet. The annual royal tournament is set for the next morning, so everyone is in a good mood.

Well, everyone except Eddie. And Lord Harrington, by the look on his face.

“Munson,” he says, straightening before he bows his head in greeting. “Forgive me, I was looking for some quiet. I shall look somewhere else.”

And, somehow, that is enough to snap his patience that was already wearing thin. “Why can you not stand being in my presence, sir?” he asks, rising from his seat. “Does it disgust you so to be around mere peasants?”

Harrington looks taken aback, shock and confusion clear on his face before a frown takes its place and washes away all further emotions.

“It is not your presence that bothers me, nor the nature of your birth.”

“And yet you leave every time I so much as strum a tune, Lord Harrington, ready to throw both caution and propriety to the winds. Leaving me to wonder what it is that I have done to deserve such treatment.”

Eddie finds himself walking closer and closer to the Lord, coming to a stop not one foot before him. He is drawn in by his presence, his charm as alluring as his cold silence. Everything about Lord Harrington intrigues him, horrified as he is to admit it. But with Steve not around to catch his eye and captivate his heart and mind alike, he simply has to find inspiration elsewhere.

And the way Harrington’s face is taken over by a dangerous expression is the most inspiring, alluring thing he has seen in a while, even though it is directed at him.

“How can you have the audacity to feign confusion over my disdain, bard,” he hisses, and Eddie shivers slightly. Harrington does not even have the sense to step back, staying right where he is, so close, so improper. “How can you pretend it is not my life you have taken and made your own, singing songs and telling stories, making into nothing but a jaunty tale recited by drunkards with no regard to the blood it was written in.”

Eddie blinks, not quite catching up with the point Harrington is making.

“What—“

“You sing your ballads, your histories, your Knightmærs like you know what they mean. Making a mockery of me, stealing from me every chance to tell my tale in my own voice, in my own tempo. Entire kingdoms will know before I will have had the chance to wake up from a nightmare, and they sing about it, sing about pain they did not have the misfortune to suffer, sing with a smile, with booming voices because you make them. And yet the only one without a voice remains the one who slew the beast.”

Lord Harrington speaks to him as though he takes offence at the content of Eddie’s ballads, offence at the reality of their background. But what right does he have to take offence when his songs are based on heroic deeds, recounted to him first hand by his very best friend. What right does Harrington have to question the truth behind them?

“If it is a matter of truth that concerns you, let me reassure you, my Lord, that all of my ballads are based on true events. I ask that you do not call me a liar, no matter how great your dislike of my craft.”

“It is not a liar that I call you, but rather a thief.”

Eddie gasps, offended now. “What do you suggest I have stolen, then?”

“A person’s right to their own story. To their own nightmares. A man's right to flee from the horrors he lived through, acquainting every tavern in this kingdom and the next with his horrific and desperate deeds.”

“How dare you call his deeds horrific,” Eddie hisses now, feeling protective over his knight. “How dare you accuse me of ill intent when every word out of my quill is written with nothing but love and admiration.”

“For whom?” Harrington challenges, disdainful and cold. “Only for yourself, your vanity, your overgrown sense of artistic ambition.”

“No,” he shakes his head, hands clenched into fists as he finds himself incredibly close to Lord Harrington, their faces only inches apart now. “It is love for this person I have never met, whom my dear friend has told me about. A man who has kept me awake at night as I was pouring over letter after letter, hoping he should be well. It is a love so strong it has to be turned into art, into song, love that should be sung in every voice of the kingdom.” He scoffs, stepping back to catch his breath. “I do not expect you to know such a love when all you have in your cold heart is disdain for all things beautiful. You would never know bravery if it looked you in the face, you would never know love if it was the very fabric that makes this world. It would slip through your fingers, my Lord, for you would be busy yearning for the day your life found its meaning.”

He is seething, heaving breaths, out of control over the words tumbling out of his mouth. Insulted in his pride and his muse, offended, hurt. Confused, still, as to why the Lord hates his songs with such vigour.

“Is that your opinion of me?” Harrington whispers, though even in that toneless voice of his lies so much that Eddie cannot begin to decipher.

“Yes,” he whispers back, the fight leaving him now, the very air sucked out of the room they share. “I believe I made that clear just now.”

Harrington takes one step closer once more, but Eddie does not budge.

“Then I suggest you forget that knight of yours,” he says, quiet and final. “And forget the idea you have of love. To love someone is not to turn his nightmares into song. To love someone is not to look him in the eye and insult his very existence even further. You love yourself, your craft, your mind. But you do not love him. You would not recognise him if he shared the same breath as you.”

Eddie huffs, just barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “And what makes you so sure of that, Lord Harrington?”

A smile twitches his lips, though there is no mirth, no glee. “You have just proven it to me, Mr Munson.” He takes a step back and evades Eddie’s eyes. “I believe you should return to the fest now. Good night.”

And with that, he turns around and leaves.

Eddie finds himself rooted to the ground, air returning to the room now but still he is unable to catch his breath, staring ahead as he is.

Words echo in his mind as the picture paints itself and a horrible, horrible realisation dawns on him.

You will find there is an irony to your words soon.

How can you pretend it is not my life you have taken and made your own?

But you do not love him. You would not recognise him if he shared the same breath as you.

You have just proven it to me, Mr Munson.

But… There is no way. There is no way that Dustin’s friend, Dustin’s knight and protector, his saviour, Steve, should be the same as Lord Harrington with his careful, quiet, disdainfully quirked eyebrow.

Except, Lord Harrington collected Dustin from Eddie’s home, speaking with him in a tone filled with such familiarity, they cannot be mistaken as anything but friends.

And Lord Harrington had listened with such rapt attention when Eddie played his jaunty tunes and the well-known classics at the banquet days ago, looking like he enjoyed Eddie’s play. His face had only soured when people started requesting his newer original songs, his fists clenched upon the opening chords of The Knight and His Nightmare, leaving the hall altogether when people requested more.

You sing your ballads, your histories, your Knightmærs like you know what they mean.

Eddie’s heart falls when he realises what he has done. How blind he was to the frowns and the tension, how deaf to the hints and insinuations, how ignorant he was of the pain he inflicted on Lord Harrington. Lord Steven Harrington. Steve.

His Steve. And yet not his at all.

He falls back onto the bench, dazed, as the weight of his realisation settles inside his chest.

onwards to part 2

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #honey i’m so sorry you gave me a rather clear prompt and i went and disrespected it but i hope this is fine too??#this is also the part where we remember i’m german and am using this language like lego bricks on a playmobil set #dio words #this wasnt meant to be so dramatic but uh. apparently i write miscommunication tropes now. pride&prejudice made me do it #i am planning on a part 2 but i do not control the brain #knight!steve harrington #bard!eddie munson #bard/knight

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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I'm new to the dp x dc fandom and ur account has been a very satisfying brain exercise for me. Pls listen to my business proposal: Danny and Damian twins but not really au!

Jason was cleaning a trafficker hideout, he was releasing the victims when one of them mentioned that there was a kid who was recently napped and locked in another room bc he's too feral. After "asking" some of the goons, he went looking. The kid was as feral as they mentioned in appearance, but what they didn't mention, was the freaking muzzle on his face.

He dearly wished he didn't let these bastards off dying so fast.

The kid was oddly calm, except for the unnerving stare with those toxic green eyes (where has he seen those eyes? meta?), for someone that looks like they have been through hell and back, their ragged shirt covered various injuries but mostly healed as far as he could tell. The more he observed the kid the more déjà vu he felt. Throwing away the horrible device on the poor kid's face the moment the buckle came loose, Jason looked at the teen before him.

"Demon brat???"

Meanwhile, Danny who got jumped by the GIW escaped to GZ, then went for the nearest exit he saw (not even checking if it's the right dimension) only to immediately turned human due to adrenaline crash and get snatched not even minutes after hiding in a random alley because it's Gotham and Fenton's luck. It's been a few days, stuck in human form Danny's brain kicked into survival mood: ghost edition until this giant guy in leather and a red helmet came in smelling like a full course meal.

Who the hell is Damian?

Ok I feel bad for not adding to this but I feel like I won’t be able to do this prompt justice. Anyone who wants to, please feel free to add on!

#bones replies #dp x dc #anon #writing prompts #this is so incredibly amazing my dude holy shit #I’m so happy that you enjoyed my prompts my dude!!!!!#I wanna add onto this but head is currently empty :(#if someone adds onto it and it inspires me I’ll prolly do something to continue the story but for now-#I shall chuck it into the void that is tumblr and see if anyone throws something back at me #preferably writing of some sort and not a brick or rock. my bones are already as whack as it is

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wigglebox · 2 years

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Suptober - Day 1;

Maze/Maize

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arihi · 9 months

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For the prompts: tentacles 😵‍💫

The setting: a dimly lit bedroom. Our protagonist on the bed, her limbs helplessly held apart by invisible strings she can’t even see, never mind fathom. She pulls at her restraints uselessly, the soft, yet firm hold unrelenting as it forces her into a stiff, vulnerable position.

It’s all she can do to look down at her body, thank god it hadn’t bound her by the throat. The entire night she’d been plagued by sensations with no explanation, no proof of which to see - but for the first time, she notices a change. Her shirt is being lifted up.

Her pleas fall on deaf ears. From the way tendrils seem to trace down her stomach and up her legs, her restraints are living, but give no indication of any higher intelligence.

Higher than pinning her down and pulling up her shirt, at least.

She’d been feeling them underneath her clothing all night before she’d even gotten into bed. She knew they didn’t have to remove her shirt for any pretense of access.

She knew they’d only done it to humiliate her. To prove she was completely at their mercy.

Tears spill and soak the pillow by her cheeks. She makes no attempt at wiping it; she knows her hands are all but frozen in place.

Almost resigned to her fate, the tentacles actively pulling the fabric aside and touching her with feathery-light ministrations, she exercises the only control she has. Looking around the room, as if hoping for any clue.

She doesn’t see them, but she does see their shadows by the dimly lit lamp in the corner of the room.

Suddenly, hope shines through the despair. She ignores the distracting sensations and reaches as hard as she can, fingers barely touching the tip of the lamp’s remote on her bedside table. Excruciatingly, she pulls it closer little by little, until she’s able to press a button. If the lights are off, the shadows will disappear - and perhaps, the tentacles will as well.

*click*

The lights are off, and the shadows are gone. In blind, desperate stupidity, she’d enveloped herself in the same darkness the tentacles drew themselves from. Perhaps if she’d thought about it with a clearer mind, she’d have realized she would only be condemning herself. Perhaps if she’d been patient, she’d realize that the tentacles could only go so far because of the small source of light in her room.

Perhaps, if a thin, dark tendril hadn’t already found its way through her ear and made itself comfortable in her brain, she would’ve had any other lucid, conscious thought to prevent it.

But if that were the case, she wouldn’t be having so much fun now, would she?

#hypnosis #tentacles #short prompt #hypno story #I was this close to sleeping #but realized I hadn’t posted a short today and had a spark of inspiration and banged this one out real quick #I wanted to do more experimental writing/framing/pov #I’m not sure how well it comes through though #dang I wanted a short enough one to put on Twitter because people liked my last one #but now this feels too long! is it?#anyway thanks for the prompt!!

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centipedelightning · 6 months

Note

Hi! I saw your elephant!monster reader ask and decided to throw my hat in the ring with a mouse!monster reader with the same pairings, My oc is the monsterized version of the mouse in the wall. A silly goofy rodent with a habit of "borrowing" things and food from people and shops across the underground

this is so cute are you kidding me. ik you didn't request him but I couldn't resist the klepto4klepto idea in my head with Cash. Congrats on being my first "inspiration point" btw.

ALSO: if this didn’t satisfy you, feel free to resubmit your request fhsgdhdh. i can do something a bit more in line w what you were probably expecting.

| UT/UF/US(+SF Pap) x Klepto Mouse!Reader || Platonic/Non-specified || Fluff |

Sans

You'll probably first meet at Grillby's.

The usual patrons are there and in you come. Slinking.. Scheming...

The crystal glasses have been calling your name for a week now.

To your surprise, this is a day Grillby is out so a certain skeleton is behind the counter.

You sidle up to the bar and order some food, intent on getting Sans away from the glassware. Once he's gone you're in action.

With deft fingers, you are reaching over the counter and grabbing as many glasses as you think you can get away with.

Once your inventory is good and full, you settle back into your spot.

You don't realize you've been caught until an empty glass is put in front of you.

"you've been a little mousy you're whole life?"

"I like to think I'm pretty outgoing actually."

That gets a laugh out of the skeleton. "i'm afraid i'll need those glasses back."

You decide to hand him a pair of glasses you "borrowed" from a frog Monster you met in Waterfall.

This goes on all night. After a certain point, you decide to give up the ghost and hand the absurd number of glasses back over to Sans. He even promised to not rat you out to Grillby.

Papyrus

You were walking through Waterfall when you saw Papyrus walking along a lower level just under you.

He was carrying a comical stack of Tupperware containers full of something. It was simple curiosity! He wouldn't even miss it!

You succeeded at snatching a Tupperware and cracked it open. The acrid smell of pure evil is the only thing that graces your nostrils.

Deciding you have no desire to hold onto whatever science experiment the skeleton had made, you hopped down and chased after him.

You came up with a quick excuse that he dropped the item and you were just innocently returning it.

Papyrus' sockets shine as he drops the armload of "food". You get thanked so profusely you almost thought you did something honorable, not stole food.

You get questioned about your culinary inclinations while he picks all the containers back up. Many of them busted open when dropped, though the skeleton doesn't seem to care.

You didn't realize that you started following him while talking and after some time you arrived to his front door.

You tried to bid him farewell before you were all but begged to come in and cook with him. It is free entry into his house.

Who knows what goodies you might be able to snag.

Red

You've heard about the funny skeleton that sometimes performs at MTT resort and decided to check it out.

You were in the area, there was an interesting list of comics on the roster, and the audience looked like types to have a lot of interesting things on them. What reason did you have not to go?

Many of the performers were fine. A few of them were so dull you had no way to sneak about without being caught.

Red was the closer, and by then your pockets were starting to feel well and full.

You, of course, continued on your mission; stifling giggles and laughs as best you could.

Red's set was nearly over by the time you felt satisfied. Oddly enough, when you fully tuned back in you notice something strange. He was making a few too many rodent-themed jokes than one might expect.

It was only after the second or third time he glanced directly into your beady eyes that you realized he absolutely knew what you were doing.

You tried to slip out of the dining room unnoticed but a certain toothy grin at the front doors stopped you.

"got caught with your hand in the mouse trap there buddy"

You had very few options other than running or offering a bribe. you went with a bribe.

Red, surprisingly, accepts and even offers a little deal. You join up with him during his sets. He tells jokes so good no one will notice a certain mousey's fingers in their pockets. Split the loot after.

You didn't have many options to counteroffer, but even then you didn't particularly want to.

Edge

You were caught pocketing some cinnamon bunnies and got the guard called on you. Naturally, you were well practiced in avoiding the guard.

You tried to spend as little time as possible in Snowdin until everything cooled off some. What you didn't realize is that the up-and-coming royal guardsman was not one to give up so quickly.

Once you decided enough time had passed, you made your appearance back into the thrall of the small town. It was only after you picked up some whispers behind you that you realized you perhaps haven't been away as long as you should've been.

What ensued was chaos. Once you realized that yes, people definitely recognized you and had called for the guard, you were booking it out of there.

A few members of the dog pack put up a chase for a while, but none of them cared for petty theft. The only one who decided to pursue you into the forest for the better part of an hour was the new skeleton recruit, Edge.

The chase only ended after you both found yourselves stuck on a large frozen lake, unable to get your feet underneath you. After hitting an impasse, you try one last boon.

You offer to pay for everything you stole and then some. Edge didn't believe you were good for it, but you were no stranger to "borrowing" a good amount of G.

While slipping and sliding past each other, Edge pulled out a long itemized list of everything you have stolen. It took a good few minutes to read through your bill but you did manage to have enough money on you to pay the shopkeep back.

After that, you were watched like a hawk by Edge personally whenever he saw you out about town. It didn't take long to realize you could intentionally run him around if you stole something in his line of sight.

Blue

Blue was one of the only people who bothered to regularly set puzzles and traps that were more interesting than piles of snow.

That also meant you could get a bunch of neat junk if you went around to dig out the parts.

You became his shadow. He'd set up a puzzle, you'd slip in and take a few parts. It certainly didn't help that Blue was incredibly amusing to watch once he saw your handiwork.

He even tried to stake you out a few times, though it never worked.

There was only once that Blue caught you.

You were out somewhere else and he put his plan in action.

You came back to your usual spot to scope out how you were going to sneak past the puzzle part of the puzzle. You didn't even think that the course looked suspicious.

It was a switch-flipping style puzzle. Certain switches move different snow poffs and you had to pick the right combination to get through. Easy.

It was only as you solved the puzzle and the floor gave out under you that you realized you made a mistake.

You got pulled out of the snow that fell on top of you none other than Blue himself.

You weren't able to do much more than laugh and deny. Deny! DENY!

It didn't work of course, though Blue did ask to keep you around.

Something about making the puzzles so hard a human wouldn't even be able to pass them?

Stretch

Stretch was trying to do a simple run to the craft store to get some fabric. His brother wanted a new workout set and refused to just buy one.

You were also there. You were in the bead aisle hamfisting those suckers into your pockets. Stretch could only imagine would you have already stashed away in your inventory.

It was a slow day and he had time for a little prank.

Everywhere you went, the skeleton followed. Everything you put on your person, the skeleton subtly magicked right back out.

It took you a while to notice, but once you did the game changed. It became a combination of making sure you didn't catch him putting your ill-gotten gains back and not being caught himself.

This went on for a while.

You started to get smart. You tried to shake your mysterious pursuer by taking random turns and power-walking down each aisle as quick as you could.

After a time, you also realized your pockets never got heavier. You decided you absolutely had more time to waste and got to plotting.

You started picking up items you didn't even want. Scrap fabric and strange decor items were shoved places you thought you would know if they were tampered with.

It didn't work. The standoff, so to speak, lasted two hours and you didn't catch your shadower once.

You decided to give up. You grab a couple small items and go up to the store clerk to check out. It's the least you could do after being a terror in their store for the past few hours.

It's only after you are well on your way out the door do you feel something. Your bag got slightly heavier. You stop to dig around in it and notice a pack of pencils you didn't steal and definitely didn't buy.

As you look it over you notice it has a little note drawn on the package: "that was fun. quit trying to steal things. see you around."

• Inspiration Point •

Cash

Anyone with a working brain would know not to mess with the skeleton brothers. Most of all you would never want to gamble against the taller one.

You never took their advice. Cash was fine entertainment from afar, but at the table was where the real fun started.

You didn't do it often, but every once in a while you'd find your way to Grillby's Bar & Grill after hours. There was where you'd find the good loot.

With your pockets full and inventory fuller, you found a seat at the round table where the fire elemental was dealing the first round of poker.

You got your wares appraised earlier, so your starting chips were already piled high before you.

The real joy of the table was watching people lose. They almost always came with an air of unearned confidence that made the fall that much sweeter to watch.

They always lost and were always sore losers.

That night, there were only a few real players. Cash was there, like most nights. Dogaressa and Dogamy were there, though Dogamy was only good for moral support. A few of the bar's regulars were at the table as well. The rest of the seats were filled by desperate newbies.

As soon as the table was full, the game started. It continued as you expected. Most of the newbies were overconfident and lost all their G near immediately. Dogamy backed out. The regulars all slowly backed out after losing what little money they offered in the first place.

What was surprising was how long you made it. The only people left at the table were you, Cash, and Dogaressa. You weren't playing for money and you certainly weren't playing to win.

You just wanted some easy entertainment to watch some full adult Monsters throw a few tantrums. It's not like the money you brought to the table came from a personal fund.

It didn't take long before the sore losers all left, so your interest was waning.

It wasn't until you noticed Cash do a weird little hand motion that you recognized quite well. He was pocketing cards. If he's not above cheating why should you be?

In the end, Cash won the lot. You didn't expect to win, nor did you care to cheat enough so that you would've. If anything, that would've been suspicious.

You knew that Cash realized your play and that made the night all the more interesting. Once he knew you were cheating, it became a joint effort to do as much as possible without being fought by Grillby or Dogaressa and miraculously you both pulled it off.

Or, you both pulled it off long enough to get out the door snickering to each other, G in hand.

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hurtthemgently · 1 year

Text

Whump prompt:

Introduce caretaker to your story by absolutely brutalizing them, really just knock them around, leave them barely able to stand, covered in cuts and bruises.

Leave whumpee to take care of them

#whump prompt #whump trope #caretaker turned whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #lol not like I’m literally writing this right now #I do wanna know what people think of this trope tho

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samael-i-am · 2 years

Text

but they’re lying all the time

trans hunter week day seven - mirror (@rqmdae)

rating: teen and up audiences

Belos told Hunter he was a boy. He had never thought about it beyond that until his life was turned inside out - and with everything going to pieces, he should have expected that simple truth to be a lie, too.

Takes place some point post-Hollow Mind, wherein Hunter stays at the Owl House instead of going to Hexside.

“Holy shit- Hunter, you’re trans?”

“I’m- what?”

“You’re trans,” Luz repeated, dumbfounded. “Shoot- I’m sorry, that’s probably rude-“

“No, I- I’m not trans? What are you talking about?”

“But you have…” Luz gestures inarticulately at his chest.

“Well, yeah? Doesn’t everyone?”

“Hunter. Cis boys don’t have boobs.”

“You- you’re lying!”

With that shocking revelation unveiled, Hunter had promptly locked himself in the upstairs bathroom of the Owl House, aptly labelled Ladies and King - because apparently, he couldn’t even be a fucking boy correctly, if what Luz said was right. It probably was. She was certainly right about- the Emperor.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what being trans was. It’s just- he wasn’t. He’d always been a boy, he’d never not been a boy, and Belos had never led him to believe that he-

Ah. Belos. That would be it, wouldn’t it? His- whatever he was had been unsatisfactory, and the man had sought to change him, and never even bothered to tell him - he’d probably done it as soon as Hunter had been unearthed, or however grimwalkers were born, all the better to make him a perfect replica of the person he was meant to replace.

He’d never questioned the compression shirts, the potions he had taken every week - he’d never had a basis for comparison, after all, so why would he have ever thought that regular boys didn’t have tits, or need to chug their hormones in liquid form? He’d seen the coven scouts in the barrack changing rooms before, of course, and he couldn’t deny that strange stirring of envy in his stomach at how much flatter they seemed, how he would have to ask his uncle what sort of shirts they were wearing- but he’d never really thought himself different. It was just another lie, and it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, it wasn’t nearly as world-shattering as all the rest, and yet-

And yet. When he looked in the mirror, what was he supposed to see?

He imagined himself like Eda, at first, the first decidedly female person he could bring to mind - gave himself that slim curve of her hip and chest, mentally thinned his biceps when he flexed them in the mirror- and it felt nothing short of revolting, enough to make him choke back bile rising in his throat. Well. Maybe he was doing it wrong? Terra was a woman too, so he could just- he pictures her long hair on his head, and her pink dress, and no, no, absolutely not, that was not him, could not be him, and he banished the thought from his mind, hugging himself tightly.

A knock at the door made his ears prick. “Hunter, I’m sorry- is everything okay? Flapjack is getting worried,” Luz fretted from behind the door. He could see the shadow of her pacing flickering underneath.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I’m fine. Had to piss.”

“Okay. I- I’m really sorry Hunter, I shouldn’t have said that, it just slipped out-“

“Look- it’s fine, okay?” he snapped back, drawing his hand back from the doorknob. He wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “It’s just another lie about myself that I believed. No big deal.”

“Are you sure..?”

“No! How can I be sure of anything? I don’t even know who I am anymore?” His hands were shaking, and he buried them deep in his hair, back pressed firmly against the door.

“Okay, okay, um- well. Are you a boy, or a girl? Or something else?” Luz asked tentatively.

“A boy. Definitely a boy.” He was pretty sure of that, he thought, and if he could decide that without Belos, it was a good sign, probably. Maybe. Who the hell knew? Not him!

“Okay! That’s a start. Uh…actually, I feel like Eda is probably more equipped to handle…this..? Can I go get her?”

“Sure.” Air his laundry out to the Owl Lady, too. It was no big deal! His entire life was a lie, of course, down to something so simple as his gender, but who was he to complain?

“I’ll be right back, then.” Footsteps away, and then two sets returned, leaving Hunter without any time to gather his thoughts.

“Hey, kiddo,” Eda said from behind the door. “Having a rough time?”

“You could say that.”

“Alright, uh…so, sounds like Belos played Gender Santa with you, huh?” She chuckled at her own joke, for reasons Hunter could not discern.

“Gender what?”

“Oh, Santa- it’s a human realm thing, apparently, he gives people presents and stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

“Least of my concerns,” he muttered.

“Not the time, sorry kid. But- uh- ah, apologies in advance for asking this, but did you ever learn about, uh…you know…puberty? The bats and the griffins, and all that?”

“Oh, Titan- yes, Eda, I learned about that.” Eugh. He did not need to discuss witch puberty with the Owl Lady, thank you - that was probably the only way whatever the hell this was could possibly get any worse.

“Wait, Hunter, if you knew about puberty, then how come you never figured it out?” Luz asked suddenly.

“I don’t know!” He curled his fingers around his hair and pulled until he felt like he could breathe again. “I just- Belos said I was a boy, so I was a boy! I never thought much about it, I feel like my entire life is pretty indicative of the fact that I took everything he said at face value!”

“You’re right, kid, you wouldn’t have had any reason to think about that,” Eda said smoothly, jumping in before Luz had the chance to ruffle any more feathers. “Luz, maybe it should be just us for now?”

“Okay,” Luz said slowly. The sound of her creaking footsteps dissipated, and Eda sighed heavily.

“Alright. Well- I guess you’ll have some stuff to think about, but do you still want to be a boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. That gives us a pretty good jumping-off point. Were you on hormones?”

“There was- a potion.” He’d read the stupid label enough time, and still never considered-

“Okay, okay, that makes sense,” Eda murmured. “Do you want to continue them?”

“I…guess? What happens if I don’t?”

“That’s a conversation for you and a healer, but generally, there’s some regression, and some withdrawal symptoms depending on your dose.”

“Regression..?” Hunter whispered, strangled. Regression, as in he would- no, no, absolutely not, he would not, he could not-

“Kid, you alright in there? Kid?” His breath was wheezing in and out of his chest, all strangled, like his throat was wrapped in wire, and the bathroom lights were suddenly too bright, and-

“I can’t, I can’t, I’m not a girl, I am a boy, I’m- I swear I am, I can’t-“

“Hey, kid it’s okay, it’s okay, we know you’re a guy, alright? Kid?” Eda tapped her fingers nervously against the door, speaking in a low, cautious tone, like he was some kind of animal, while Flapjack twittered nervously beside her. “I’ll get in contact with a healer tonight, and we’ll get you all situated, alright? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, knees hugged tight to his chest. “I- thank you, Eda. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Are you ready to come out now?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I just…I don’t know. I need a little while.”

“That’s fine.”

“I…can you let Flapjack in?”

“Of course, kid. He’ll be happy to see you.” The door creaked open, and Flapjack fluttered inside, a bundled red ball of feathers.

My boy! My boy is okay! Love you! Love my boy! He settled on Hunter’s knees, tugging at the strand of hair that flit over them.

“Love you too, buddy,” he said softly, stroking the bird’s crest. Flapjack thought he was a boy. Knew he was a boy. That helped, he thought. “Thank you.”

#i’ve seen some comics about this but i wanted to write my own take #another idea i’d like to explore more but for now i have this #last drabble i’m doing for these prompts. it was a lot of fun! many thanks to the host!#the owl house #toh #hunter the golden guard #toh hunter #the owl house season two #the golden guard #hunter the owl house #hunter toh #the owl house hunter #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #toh fanfic #the owl house fanfiction #trans hunter week

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yeyayeya · 4 months

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I’m back! Well, not necessarily, but I’m on the road back home. I am mentally exhausted, but my break back in Mexico was fun! I won’t exactly get back to posting normally, but I will in a few days

#yeyarants #nobody probably cares #but to the few mutuals that do #hello again!#I’ve been offline the past two weeks and haven’t gotten checked on things in a bit #i NEED to watch the two TGCF season 2 episodes before posting my reaction to them #but I need a bit of a break rn lol #the break felt like nothing and now I gotta go back home #like I miss it… but also not really #Mexico just feels so different but in a good way #I will post my reactions to episodes 9 and 10 don’t worry #and the small bits of time to myself I’ve been trying to write something #I’m halfway done #and my plan is to post it here in February #and if not hopefully by March #it’s something I’ve been working on and I want to share it but I also feel self conscious about it #but it’s the most I’ve ever written!#and really want to share it #it’s basically an OTP prompt thing which is writing something about said OTP every day of the month #and if you know me then you know which two ships #Idc if it doesn’t get that much attention #even just a little bit would make me happy and I plan on posting it on ao3 and sharing it on my blog #still don’t know if I should make post it chapter by chapter or making a series and posting each prompt individually #the prompts were like one to three words and I wrote quite a lot for it #the average for most of them are around 700 words #but again #felt like sharing this small update and what I’ve been doing

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minty364 · 2 months

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DPXDC Prompt #142 Part 2

His parents had spent years working on their portal, to the point where they were neglecting their own children. Danny didn’t know any better, neither did Jazz. To them it was just how their family ran and for the most part it worked for them. It allowed Danny to really study space and the Stars. His room was covered with different ship models on the shelves, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and posters on the walls.

Jazz had similarly explored her own thoughts and topics as she studied Psychology. Her room was more feminine but still had a certain scientific decorum to it.

He never thought that he’d suddenly be ripped from all the things he loved. But here he was with the trench coat man, instead of taking some biology class or something.

“What happened with the portal?” Danny asked.

The man took a long sigh, “listen… quite a lot of shit went down after your accident.”

“That tells me nothing,” Danny glared at the man.

“I get your upset kid, but let me at least know your name. Mine's John Constantine,”

“…Danny,” Danny muttered after a moment. He wasn’t sure he trusted the man but he guessed he had no choice. He was also noticing he felt a bit off, it was the weirdest gut feeling and Danny was having trouble telling exactly what the feeling was. It was like the feeling was telling him to trust John, although at the same time John had this weird feeling about him that had Danny feeling weary. He decided to trust John just a little, hopefully it got him back home, after a moment Danny spoke again, “…Can you at least tell me if the portal worked?”

The room was silent for a moment and then John spoke “Alright, fine, I’ll tell you what happened but some background first, do you know who the ancients are?”

The name didn’t sound familiar, “Ancients? Like Ancient Aliens or something?”

“No, no…” John took a swig from a flask in his pocket and then started fiddled with an unlit cigarette he pulled from a different pocket. He then looked Danny up and down, “You don’t know the first thing about the infinite realms do you?”

“The what?” None of this was making any sense and the more Danny talked to this guy the more he was getting a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something about this conversation felt wrong, like Danny should know all of this already but he just didn’t.

“Right well… I guess the easiest way to explain this is the portal your parents made was to the infinite realms.” John said, putting the cigarette in his mouth.

“My parents called it the Ghost Zone.” Danny muttered.

John seemed to chuckle at that, “I mean it is mainly inhabited by ghosts, however they aren’t the only ones, far from it in fact. I’m sorry but… I couldn’t allow your parents unlimited access to the realms. I had to disable it and prevent it from being reactivated.”

Danny felt a little disheartened after hearing that, he guessed John was probably right though. He remembered hearing his parents talk about how they’d dissect every ghost they found to study them. The bully’s at his school often bullied Danny over it especially after his dad and mom would continually embarrass him on parent teacher nights and on field trips.

Danny let out a small sigh, “so when can I go home?”

John looked a little surprised, his eyebrow quirked up, “so you're unaware of your situation right now?”

“Situation?” Danny trailed off, he remembered getting shocked and then he remembered waking up here, “where are we?”

John let out another sigh, “shit, well from my research you're supposed to know everything about your powers when you wake up.”

This made no sense to Danny, powers? Danny didn’t have powers, he didn't have the meta-gene.

“Powers? I don’t have the meta-gene. I think you have the wrong person.” Danny stated as he folded his arms in front of himself.

“Then how are you floating?” John asked with a smirk.

Danny looked down and he indeed was floating just an inch off the bed, he wondered when that started but the feeling threw him off a little as he stumbled a little trying to keep himself upright. It didn’t work and he fell back down on the bed with a little thud. He turned to see John watching him with a small hint of amusement in his eyes.

“What am I?” Danny asked, his voice small and a little panicked.

“You, Danny Fenton, are an Ancient. I know the term makes it seem like you're old but the term is more because your people are ancient in age.” The explanation made no sense to Danny but he could somehow float now. He thought the term ‘Ancient’ was a little much for some floating powers.

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