#this is just my first draft

[leo--len]

Hi guys!

After reading a large amount of fanfic, and realizing I have an unhealthy amount of ideas in my brain that can't all be expressed through DnD, i've decided I want to try my hand at writing Fanfic. I'm posting it here just so I can get some feedback from real humans while I'm waiting on an Ao3 invitation.

This fanfic takes place in a Minecraft Origins inspired world. This is my first time, so if you have any criticisms or ways I could improve, PLEASE tell me.

Bright Stars in the black void

By: leolen

All was quiet in the town of Bracken Hearth. The children were already asleep, most of the adults were silent and ready to follow them into darkness. Even the sounds of the surrounding forests and valley seemed muted, like even the valley itself had fallen into a deep slumber. And with the moon having been darkened, the only light provided came from the stars, twinking away with their dim light. With not a cloud in sight, it was perfect conditions for a bit of star gazing.

But in the end, that night only two had their eyes on the stars.

CRACK! Gratin winced as a branch snapped under the weight of body, weighed down as it was from the heavy equipment slung around his back. It must have weighed at least sixty pounds, and they had been hiking for well over an hour up the side of the valley. At the sound, Milo jumped, startled until he realized what it was.

“Stars above Gratin!” Milo exclaimed, “Can you at least try to be a little quieter, you scared the crap out of me!”

Gratin gave him a baleful look and shot back, “I’m only here because you needed help carrying this thing up the trail. Next time, I won’t come, and you can do it yourself.”

At that Milo gave a little huff and continued climbing up the trail. Gratin hoped they were almost there, he was running on an empty stomach, and the nap he took this afternoon wasn’t enough to fully dissuade his exhaustion.

At last, the trees around the two cleared, to reveal a large grassy area. A few minutes of walking later and…

“Whoa…” Gratin whispers. No matter how many times he comes up here, the view from this bluff never fails to impress. This was surprising, as he had been to places much more expansive, and seen the world from angles few ever had. But even still, this bluff managed to take his breath away each and every time he stepped up to that ridge.

“Let's set up over there,” Milo said, pointing to a patch of grass a good distance away from the ledge, “The ground looks stable enough to set up the scope.”

“On it,” Gratin replied. And after a few minutes of Milo and Gratin fiddling around with the heavy equipment, a large brass telescope finally stood in place. With the telescope fully assembled, Milo began his work, mapping the stars and the constellations they formed onto large scrolls of paper. This was Gratin’s favorite part of the routine. Gratin carefully settled himself down into the grass—careful not to pinch his cloak in the wrong way—and looked back up at the sky and the stars that danced across it. As Milo hummed to themself while copying down the patterns he saw in the sky, Gratin felt himself drifting off into a deep, and restful sleep.

— • —

Milo loved the stars.

He loved how they painted the sky with light, even in the darkest part of the day. He loved how they wove together stories through the constellations they formed. And he loved how even though they would shift and change throughout the year, he loved how they would always come back together. And so, for the past year and a half, he'd been coming up to Cedarhead Bluff each week to see how they've shifted across the sky. To witness their beauty up close, and personal.

Hours after Gratin fell asleep, Milo noticed something unusual in the sky. It started as looking like a brand new star in the sky, appearing right between Glatoris and Minos Ursa. But the longer Milo looked at it, the brighter it seemed to get. This continued until the other stars seemed to pale in comparison to its sheer luminosity, and by the time Milo had shaken Gratin out of his slumber, it was brighter than the full moon.

“Gratin! LOOK!” Milo shouted, shaking Gratin back and forth. The light grew brighter and brighter, now revealing the sun in its intensity. Birds began to chirp, the forest startled into wakefulness by the violet light spilling across the entire valley. Even the inhabitants of Brakenhearth, still slumbering away in their beds, began to stir, their bodies still knowing its night, but confused by the seeming presence of the sun. It grew brighter, and brighter until,

It vanished, and the night was dark once more.

“What was that,” Gratin grumbled, still a bit annoyed from being woken up so suddenly, “It almost looked like a shooting star.”

“Not even meteorites are that bright,” Milo excitedly replied, shooting a glance back at a now awake Gratin, “This is something new! Something previously unknown! Something…” He trailed off, now looking in the telescope pointed towards the source of the unknown light. A look of confusion was painted across his face.

“Gratin,” Milo said, with a note of apprehension and fear audible in his voice, “Could you tell me where Dywyll is. I've seen to have misplaced it.

Dywyll? What was Milo talking about? Being in the Ursa cluster, it was one of the easier stars to find, even with Dywyll being one of the dimmer stars of the night. First find Sylaphus, then one down and two to the right…

No

Wait

That's not

Again, first find Alarch, then three up, and one the the left…

No!

Again! Find Rhewlif! Then two down, and one to the right…

Nothing

Gratin stared, a look of utter disbelief on his face, as he finally understood the look of almost terror that was now present on Milo’s face. No matter how many times he looked, no matter how many times he searched the sky using maps that had been long since ingrained into his brain, he would always come to the same conclusion. That in the sky, one of the dancers have misstepped in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Because Dywyll, well…

Dywyll was missing.

And once again, all was quiet in the forest.

#fanfic #first fic #minecraft origins #minecraft fanfiction #world building #original characters #looking for advice #i'm kinda excited #and terrified #hope you all enjoy #this is just my first draft

[janearts]

I am not at all a medical professional, so please excuse any inaccuracies. In any case, Roisia would 100% be trying to puzzle out the logistics of a vampire bite.

[Logistics 1] [Logistics 2] (Her conclusion? She trusts her needle more.)

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Astarion Ancunin #Astarion #BG3 Astarion #BG3 Roisia #if you've sent me an ask i've got it in my drafts #just working through my list of sketch ideas a pinch first

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Lost boys

#mayhem art #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker fanart #obi wan kenobi fanart #star wars art #this one was sitting in my drafts for about a month. idk why I was holding onto it -cries- anyway #this is shortly after Qui-Gon's death. Both of their lives just got flipped upside down. Anakin is traumatized by having to leave #his mother behind‚ then his Master's sudden death‚ and he's left with no certainty in his future. #Obi-Wan just witnessed his Master die‚ helplessly‚ then having to take care of this little human in his Master's stead‚ meanwhile feeling #wholly inadequate to be so suddenly knighted let alone immediately becoming a Master and taking responsibility for another being. #Both of them losing the constants in their lives. left uprooted. the only anchoring point being each other. #I imagine Obi-Wan wouldn't reach out to Anakin first‚ but if Anakin expressed compassion with him‚ grief‚ and his need to feel secure‚ #Obi-Wan wouldn't turn him away #this was just my excuse to give them a proper soothing hug in their time of mourning

[lilybug-02]

Wow. That could not have turned out worse.

Part 23 || First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

This comic will be on Holiday Hiatus this December and January! While on a cliffhanger? What a scam! >:/

#Chara finally realizes something is wrong....very wrong #And you get to see little Chara for all of 2 drawings. wow. You guys are so spoiled uwu #Asriel and Chara bbfs #finally out of that darn tootin' Darkworld! WE'VE BEEN THERE FOR 2 YEARS!!! #LORE TIME LORE TIME. I know Chara is very vague about it but player-human relationships are very personal. #it can be hard to talk about them if you've been possessed yourself. especially with some stigmas around it #chara just wanted a glass of water. why you gotta do this to em #I am so so so happy to get here #the full excitement has faded since I first thought up this scene but It's still one hell of an accomplishment #YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA how many times I reworked this and how many rough drafts I've thrown out the window because of it. #tbh. I may post the 10+ rough pages that will never see the light of day #Im glad I didnt go through with that scrapped plot bc It was too many unneeded pages. I've learned to start condensing in a better way #I am also planning on showing off my Patreon soon :) so I'll be posting complete scrapped story lines over there #deltarune chara timeline #deltarune #utdr #deltarune chara timeline comic #art #my art #bread #chara #asriel #saloon darkworld #darkworld #deltarune au #college chara #college asriel

[crunchchute]

#crunchchute art #my art #sam and max #i could work on this one forever but i had to stop myself cause it looks done already. but i keep seeing details that i could still change #that Nobody would notice lol. its good #made a draft of the bg first then a sketch of them and i couldnt get myself to line it properly so i just painted right on top of everythin #thats when i just cant stop ever #i really wanted to draw them on their roof chairs #inspired by the current april weather

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.

#also idk how to tell you this but even if it were true. wealthy children potentially sacrificing their educational careers to protest is #a good thing actually. idk how to tell you that caring about people from other nations is good #personal #“this war has nothing to do with most students cuz nobody's getting drafted” idk how to explain to you that we should be angry #that our tuitions of 10s of thousands of dollars that we pay every year for an education is being used to fund a genocidal campaign #also the implication that if you go to a uni institution you are automatically privileged by participation no matter your bg #i didn't /want/ to go to this school. i was supposed to go to a school with an art/animation program. but i realized my immigrant #parents have been working their whole lives to get me here. and turning the opportunity down would be a disservice to their sacrifice #this is getting into convos of “what 2nd gen kids owe their parents” which is different for everyone but. yeah #i just get pissed off at seeing people misrepresenting student bodies as “wealthy” and “privileged” and “elite” when it's such a blatant li #i remember a year ago a friend told me they can't fly home to hong kong for winter break because the plane tickets are too expensive #so they have to find temporary housing around the area #last quarter for a film doc class my film partner made a doc on a small group of marxist grad students from india discussing praxis #during a rally a few months ago in response to police presence the coalition invited palestinian students to speak about their experiences #and lead songs and read poems they wrote. these are STUDENTS. are they elitist too? #this is not to disregard my own personal privilege either. #this whole narrative's just to rationalize a lack of empathy to me. seeing a 19yo student get shot by a rubber bullet and your first #reaction is “HAW! HAW! bet richy rich didn't see THAT coming when she put on her terrorist hood!” #newsflash. these big uni campuses are HAUNTED by the violence of past protests and revolutions and police brutality. we know. #why do you think these coalitions have been making reinforced barricades at record speed

[spooksier]

this is the gayest scene in tma and i meant that in the strictest definition possible. this is just two gay guys queening out at each other, 10/10 no notes

#text! #tma #why was this just sitting in my drafts im right #elias seeing martin for the first time in eight months: first i would like to remind you that you are a fa

[even-disco-baby]

THOUGHT GAINED: INFERNAL ENGINES

PROBLEM

The world is ending. You know it, your neighbor knows it, the dealer knows it, the jailer knows it, the king and all his men know it. All one has to do is look around to see it— the future is curdling into something pale and incorporeal. The infernal machine that is this stupid world is going to blow, sooner rather than later. So what are you doing? Why are you still here? Why is anyone still here?

SOLUTION

You are doing the only thing worth doing. You are living. *Why,* you ask? Try and remember now. Remember your mother’s hand on your shoulder. Remember the taste of a fresh catch. Remember the times when you were kind to the dogs in the valley and they did not bare their teeth. Remember the weight of a child on your shoulders. Remember the stars throwing their light against the wall of sodium and smog. Remember singing until your throat was raw. Remember crying just as loudly and publicly, and the gentleness with which someone opened your curled fist and pressed a handkerchief into your palm. Crying, laughing, running, eating, screaming, haunting, loving, fighting, fighting, fighting. The fight fuels you, and you fuel the fight. You run yourself ragged just for a chance to keep running. You never stop. You cannot stop. The world depends on it. *You* are the infernal engine. You are the world. And, simply put: you want to live.

#disco elysium #thought cabinet #suicide tw #smth a little different #this is actually smth i would like to include in a full length one shot #but i think it��s gonna get edited p heavily for the fic this is just a first pass at it #but. i like this draft of it and i want to archive it #feels like me and all my loved ones have death on their minds most of the time lately… #reminding myself that keeping myself and all the ppl i care about on this earth is what everything is about #always and forever

[mj-thrush-gxn]

initial designs🫶

#I GOT SUPER BAD ARTBLOCK TRYING TO DRAW FRANCIS- #and some of these colors seem weird to me #BUT THIS OS JUST THE FIRST DRAFT THEY WILL GET BETTER WITH TIME #also i love them all #trudy my love🫶 #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndaddies #dndads art #dndads fanart #dndads s3 #the peachyville horror #slight spoilers

[tuktev]

#ghostface #dbd ghostface #danny johnson #tho lbr. plenty of ghostfaces who would pull this shit #ghostmyers #digital art #digital painting #false artvertising #i drew this a year ago with doja cat's freak playing on repeat #just found it in my drafts again while looking for smth else and decided fuck it we posting #edit: ofc THIS is my first ever post to get more than 1k notes. this one. this silly joke i almost didn't post at all #isn't that just the way

[chiricat]

ahahaa what that’s so silly… imagine that… you and i… uhhhhhhhhh

#souyo #yu narukami #souji seta #yosuke hanamura #persona 4 #p4 #persona #cat’s art #souji is starting to win over yu for me… something happened #idk how i feel about this one lads it’s just not hittin today #honestly every day i’m like ‘todays the day! i’m gonna finally draw shuake’ #and then i wake up to souyo like Huh #akira is hard to draw. either that or i’m too afraid to draw him bc i fear i just cannot do him justice no matter what #me when i can’t draw my ult fave because hes just Too Cool and i can’t sully his image with my faults #i have a draft. someday i’ll finish my first shuake

[toasteaa]

Can't talk, thinking about accidentally triggering claiming and mating behaviors in Zhongli -

There's just something about it, you know? Seeing Zhongli, a god - a former Archon- who has placed himself above his base desires and draconic instincts, struggle to hold those very same instincts back when it comes to you.

Perhaps you stayed out just a bit too long for his liking. A surprise rainstorm swept through the harbor, and once you returned to your shared home, you were absolutely soaked. Ah, but you were offered a spare coat from a coworker of yours to keep even just a bit dry - and Zhongli is quietly simmering with displeasure as that scent drowns out yours. Drowns out what should be his scent on you. That which marks you as his. It shouldn't bother him like this; he knows it wasn't intentional. He knows that you merely misjudged the forecasted rain (as you often do, despite him being overly familiar with the weather patterns of the region and reminding you of this constantly) and then accepted help from a man - a coworker, he tries to remind himself . Yet he's barely listening to you as he tugs you out of the offending article and -

Oh...it isn't enough.

There's a cloying, wretched stench stuck to your clothes, and Zhongli's patience is running even thinner as he strips you of these as well. But even after he's kicked those soiled clothes to the side and secured his own coat around you, it still isn't enough. It's as if that offending scent has permeated your skin, sunken in with the rain - and there's a deep seated, rarely seen possessiveness that takes root in his mind. One he hasnt felt since...Archons, since he last took up his former name. It's as though a white hot brand has pierced him and coiled around his senses.

Everything that is logical about this no longer matters; the only thing that makes sense to him is the sudden way he gathers you into his arms and makes haste to the bedroom. Your scent is there, as is his. And this will be a well needed reminder that he doesn't appreciate other claiming his treasure as their own.

#toast talks #genshin impacted #heehoo clearing out old drafts and saw this one and :9 #Throwback to when I first started genshin and saw Zhongli and was reminded that I have a type #I just like when they get possessive okay? I like when they feel that they need to claim and scent and breed - #ANYWAYYYY #genshin x reader #genshin x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #uhhhh I haven't written for Zhongli in awhile idk what other tags to use for him BYE #this is also probably really messy and not really all that great but its cause I'm editing the draft on my phone and not a pc RIP

[rockpapertheodore]

SORRY! Your application for gender reassignment has been DENIED. To become eligible for gender reassignment, you must complete at minimum ONE (1) quest from your current gender assignment.

CURRENT GENDER (GUY, subclass [THIS FUCKIN GUY]) Quests Remaining:

1. Get a lil sillay~* with it

2. Increase the decrease

3. Shenanigans

4. MASTER Kagebunshin no Jutsu

#this has been in my drafts a minute #i dont have any conclusion to this it just entertains me #there was some formatting issue with the first block and i dont remember how i wanted it

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”

#scum villain self saving system #svsss #shang qinghua #shen yuan #airplane shooting towards the sky #this got more into the feelings than i thought it would #surprising no one #anyway just! childhood friends au! as a reason for a shen yuan insert! #obviously he is not going to die as a child in this version #shang qinghua would not have that nope not again #also pls consider poor shen jiu who looks at this child that shen yuan has picked out for a best friend like '...really? that one??' #(it's up to you if he's shen yuan's actual brother from his first life) #(put there's a part of me that likes the idea that shen jiu also gets a second chance to spend more time with his brother) #a second chance for them to grow up together! #THAT SAID #RIP TO SHANG QINGHUA #WHEN SHEN YUAN IS OLD ENOUGH TO LEARN ABOUT ALL THE PAPAPA #the LOOKS shang qinghua is going to get #anyway here have a thing because I CANNOT add another au to my drafts thank you and goodbyyyyye

[watchingwisteria]

aziraphale, the one who gave the first human exiles his flaming sword as both a source of protection and warmth, who did not look on them as sinners deserving of destruction but people entitled to the best chances possible, has never once looked at crowley, a heavenly exile, with anything other than compassion and a desire to protect. from their first meeting, he never wanted anything bad to happen to him. when crowley slithers up to him in eden, he treats him like an equal rather than an adversary. when crowley appears, his eyes fill with love and excitement, his gaze turns soft and hesitant, his whole body seizes with joy of seeing him. crowley might typically the one to seek him out, but aziraphale has always welcomed him home.

#aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #I AM WRITING THE FIRST DRAFT OF MY FIC 😈 #they make me so…… #the ex christian in me turns to a rabid dog when i think abt them #they both love each other with that christian ideal agape love #the kind that would sacrifice itself for the other #to love is to will the good of the other and all that #i just love and adore them both ok u will never catch slander against EITHER of them from me #tags added later : #is now a bad time to mention i think go3 will be #aziraphale realizing that crowley is his home and he was crowley’s #like heaven is not going to be as he imagined it #and he’ll realize being head archangel can change nothing #and ooooh that homecoming.. for both of them…. #well i expect to be in tears that’s all i’ll say #IT HAS TO END WELL THO or may actually unfortunately have to pass away on the spot

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #first danny pov of the au! whoo! #danny's hair turns white if he drinks ectoplasm brrrrr and his eyes turn green. good for him #this sat in my drafts for the last few days until i finally finished it during class #it was a math class and i already knew the material so tis fiiiine. now i just need to finish my CFAU post rewrite :) #ectoplasm tastes like that time i went to go get pepsi from the soda machine and it was all out of the pepsi flavoring so instead i got a #cup full of carbonated liquid. it was disgusting. ectoplasm kinda tastes like that. sometimes. #danny smiles in this more than i thought he would but yk it fits. he IS more smiley around his friends and family. #ectoplasm is a weird non-newtonion fluid and danny is fascinated. its got the consistency of egg whites one minute and then water the next #its a water slime and then suddenly its as brittle as annealed glass. it heats up and rots like milk or it heats up and boils like water #it congeals. it thickens. it boils. it solidifies. it does whatever it wants. it gels and melts into a tar-like substance #how long has damian been standing there? good question. :) i almost had him open the door and make eye contact with damian before falling #backwards. i also almost had it be *bruce* and damian opening the door bc bruce found out that damian pulled a knife on sam and was gonna #have him come apologize. that would be a fun scene. prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact #imagery brrrr. had fun playing with how danny's ghost form works. if anyone has seen a video of steel wool burning thats how i imagine #danny's ghost transformation to be like. #also ayyy balancing danny's dialogue be like “how fancy should he sound and how Normal Teenager Should He Sound” #when sam gets home she catches tucker up to speed about everything including the convos with the waynes she had and they both form the #'“Fuck Them Waynes” squad. Sam has jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion about danny's separation from his family but in her defense. #it is a pretty sound conclusion to jump to considering the lack of context she has from danny's prior home life. which is almost none at al #so to her it looks like danny got abandoned by bruce wayne