#the power of a fanfiction comment

[casdeans-pie]

Part 4 of Flustered Castiel Accidentally Explodes Lightbulbs And Causes Power Outages Especially When Dean's Fingers Are In His Hair

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3.

Happy birthday to me! This is my birthday gift to myself so it's deliciously self indulgent for the final part. I honestly could have just kept going with this forever, I adore flustered!Cas and his angel powers lmao

This part got so big I couldn't put the whole chapter in the tumblr post sorry!

Taglist: @dreampencil , @mymisfitsbabe , @fivefeetfangirl , @kerryweaverlesbian , @give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back , @mooshroomister , @castielsbloodynose , @the-great-pumpkin-67 , @casavanse , @homoangel - thanks all for your interest, hope you like the conclusion!!

-----Read on AO3-----

---------

If stubbornness was a sin, Dean knew he would be going straight to hell when he died. Again.

There were a million reasons that Dean could think of for why Cas had distanced himself (that buzzed around his brain like insistent bees whenever he lay down to sleep at night) but if they didn’t talk about them then none of them were real. The ache in his chest at Cas’s absence, familiar from when he used to leave them for stretches at a time, felt like it dug in deeper and deeper with every passing day – but he still just couldn’t bring himself to talk to him about it.

The biggest surprise became the slow realisation that the saying ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ wasn’t just some made up cliché bullshit that people said to each other, because seeing Cas, even briefly before he scurried away, made Dean’s heart sing like a lovesick teenage girl.

Sam only suffered through so much before he started using his Sad-Sam-Eyes whenever he saw them both, hoping they would finally sort out whatever was going on between them, but he didn’t mention it otherwise. Somehow that made it even worse. If Sam told them to talk to each other, at least that could have been a good excuse. But no.

Dean had to do something on his own.

He had to.

He’d started all of this by being a jerk about Cas’s powers, so it was time to dip into that Dean Winchester Courage, have a real conversation about all of this, and face losing his best friend – the Angel that he loved – head on.

------

Then they finally had a hunt together. Alone.

Dean’s bloody machete hung in a loose grip by his side as he kicked the toe of his boot at the decapitated body on the ground beside him. The head lay nearby.

“Think we finally got ‘em all,” Dean said with a grin. His clothes were covered in splashes of blood, and he could feel some drying on his cheek that he was itching to scratch off with his nail. “I love a good vamp nest clear-out, but if I’d have known there were gonna be this many, I would’ve brought Sam as extra back-up.” Dean didn’t want to mention that the reason he’d told Sam to stay behind in the first place was because he’d finally stopped being chickenshit scared about sorting this thing out with Cas. “Not that we didn’t handle it.” He gestured towards the headless bodies scattered around them with his machete.

Cas didn’t reply. He’d been quiet in the ride over and had kept his distance for the whole fight.

Okay. Time’s up. Time to do this. Dean took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. “Cas, listen-”

“Dean!” Cas yelled, slamming into him just as the sound of a gunshot exploded nearby.

Dean went hurtling down as another gunshot rang out. He landed heavily – the floor winded him and disorientated him enough that he couldn’t get straight back up, and he shook his head rapidly to try to clear it.

There were sounds of Cas wrestling with the vampire nearby. Dean watched dazedly as the vampire snarled and bared his fangs as he threw a punch at Cas’s nose, and his fist connected with a thud. But that gave Cas the opportunity to wrench the gun out of the vampire’s weakened grasp, and he tossed it aside, making it skitter harmlessly across the floor into a dark corner of the warehouse.

Red bloomed through the top of Cas’s trench coat on his left shoulder.

“Cas!” Dean warned, finally scrambling to his feet just as the vampire grabbed Cas and threw him down with a hiss onto the dusty, blood-spattered floor.

The vampire loomed over him with an open mouth full of needle-sharp teeth just as Cas sat up with a grunt and threw up his hand with his palm out. Dean recognised the gesture, and he immediately braced himself for the blinding light of Cas’s angelic smitey powers, but only a faint sputtering glow emerged from his hand.

After a moment, where Cas stared at his hand in confusion, the vampire hissed and lunged.

He never got any further.

Dean’s machete swung in a clean shining arc through the vampire’s neck, and he collapsed in a heap like a puppet with cut strings. The spray of blood caught Cas, smattering his face and hair with even more crimson alongside what currently trickled out of his nose and soaked his shoulder.

Dean groaned in relief and threw the machete to the concrete floor with a clang. “Definitely the last one,” he declared with a deep breath. “Damn that got close for a second there. Come on, up you get.” Dean offered out a hand to help Cas, but he pushed himself up with a groan instead, pointedly not looking at the hand as if he hadn’t noticed it.

Dean tried to shrug it off again, just like he had all the other times that Cas refused to touch him recently, but he could feel the hurt burning in his throat and behind his eyes. He clenched his fist so tightly it almost hurt as he returned it to his side.

“You okay?” Dean asked instead with a frown, thinking of the gunshots, and noticing the blood stain on Cas’s shoulder increasing in size.

“Yes. The first bullet got me, but the second bullet missed. I think it went clean through. Didn’t hit anything vital.” Cas touched his shoulder and winced, then observed Dean – his blue eyes raking him up and down from head to foot. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

Dean shook his head, the mixture of hurt and concern and happiness at the closest attention he’d got from Cas in weeks making his words come out harsher than he intended when he snapped, “Nope. My bullet-proof friend pushed me out of the way, and then revealed that he’s not so bullet-proof today.”

Cas smiled ruefully. “Ah. Yes. Looks that way.” He dusted his trench coat off as best he could and lifted an arm to wipe his sleeve across his nose – though he only succeeded in smearing the dust and blood around. He closed his eyes and rubbed again.

Dean pushed down his confusing cocktail of emotions, like he always did, and forced on a smile. “You’re just making it worse, buddy. Why’s killing vamps always such a bloody job?” He reached over without thinking, while Cas was still rubbing at his nose. “Nose doesn’t look broken at least, but your shoulder’s probably gonna need stitches while you’re low on power like this.”

Dean’s fingers had barely even grazed the fabric on Cas’s shoulder before Cas flinched back violently.

The lights in the warehouse groaned and buzzed as they flickered and dimmed, and then just as quickly returned to normal.

Cas’s eyes were wide as he took another step back.

Dean felt all his confusion sharpen into a frustrated stab of white-hot anger. He gestured violently at the ceiling. “Okay. Y’know what. That’s it. Let’s talk. What the hell is going on with you, Cas? Why have you been avoiding me? What’s the deal with the lights?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Nothing you need to know about.”

“Nothing I- are you even hearing yourself right now? You’re really gonna admit to keeping secrets again after everything we’ve been through? And- hey, what’s up with your face? What are you doing?”

Cas had screwed his eyes together so tight that it pinched his whole expression. “Concentrating.”

“On what? This conversation that you’re trying not to be in?”

“On using my Grace to heal my shoulder and clean all of this off, but it’s not…” Cas gritted his teeth and opened his eyes. They glowed faintly. “It’s not working.”

Dean took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Shit, Cas. You know you’re low on power right now, you really want to use up what little juice you got left before you get chance to recharge? The motel’s only twenty minutes away.” He scowled. “You can even sit in the back. Far away from me, like you want.”

Dean didn’t wait for a response, he turned, reached down for his abandoned machete, and stalked back to Baby.

By the time Cas finally got into the car – in the back – Dean had already texted Sam to tell him that the nest had been cleared out and they would be spending the night at the motel.

They’d be back at the bunker tomorrow, and then Cas could keep avoiding him like before. Or maybe he’d finally just admit that he wanted to leave… and he’d go. The thought made Dean clench the steering wheel with a grip that made his knuckles white.

He couldn’t imagine his life without Cas in it.

The ride to the motel was tense and silent except for Baby’s engine that Dean pushed harder than he should. (The twenty-minute ride only took them ten. Cas didn’t comment on it.)

As soon as they were through the door Dean toed off his shoes, flicked on all the lights, and went to wash his hands in the bathroom. He didn’t look back to see what Cas was doing. It was none of his business. If he didn’t want to talk about it, then what did he care. (He tried to tell himself, even as the ache in his chest pounded and felt cavernous.)

Dean splashed some water on his face and gripped the sides of the grubby sink. Water plinked pink from his chin into the chipped basin, as the vampire blood washed away down the plughole.

After a deep breath Dean grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his face, careful not to inhale at the same time – he’d learned a long time ago that it was best not to know what motel towels smelt like – and reached for the first aid kit he always left in the bathroom when they went on hunts.

Sufficiently calmed down, and feeling less like his heart was caught in the vice grip of a homicidal ghost, Dean turned and emerged back into the main room. He froze mid-step at what he saw: Cas had his head in his hands, perched on the edge of his bed, while the blood stains from his bullet wound were soaking through his coat down his arm. He hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, and there seemed to be a particularly troubled tenseness to the set of his shoulders. Even more than usual. Despite their strained relationship recently, it cut Dean deeply to see him like that – so clearly suffering and so human.

Dean sat heavily onto his own bed opposite Cas. The old springs creaked loudly and protested at the sudden weight. “Alright. Coat off.”

Cas startled and snapped his head up. The lamp beside his bed flickered weakly. “What?”

Dean’s usual enthusiasm for the phenomenon of the flickering lights wasn’t his priority this time, and he pushed his curiosity aside. “Stitches,” Dean said simply, brandishing the first aid kit.

“I don’t need them,” Cas grumbled, looking away. “Once my Grace has recharged enough it will heal on its own.”

“Oh okay, so you’re just going to wait and see if your mojo recharges faster than you bleed? And you’re, what, expecting me to just sit here while we find out? Because I am not okay with that.”

“Yes.”

“Cas. Just let me put some damn stitches in your damn shoulder.”

“No.” The muscles in Cas’s jawline clenched.

Dean scowled as he ran a hand through his hair. It was sticky and matted with drying blood, but that was nothing new. “Let me put it this way. You either take off your coat and shirt willingly, or I will tackle you to that bed and remove them myself” – the lamp flickered again – “so help me God, don’t think that I won’t. Your choice.” Dean had his eyes locked on Cas’s narrowed ones. “I will not let you suffer when I can do something about it. Yeah, you might heal it up yourself in an hour or two, but I’m not going to sit here watching you bleeding and in pain, when I can help. Don’t ask me to.”

“Dean… This is just… It’s a bad idea.”

“A bad idea? To stop you from bleeding out? C’mon man, you’re always healing me up after hunts, let me repay the favor for once. Besides, you took the shot meant for me – it should be me sitting there with the bullet hole.”

Cas went suddenly pale, and his eyebrows drew together in a serious line. “If it were, I would use up whatever Grace I had left to heal you.”

Oh.

Dean blinked in surprise.

Huh. But Cas had been avoiding him so much lately... He’d assumed he didn’t care anymore. “Uh,” Dean faltered, “no, that wouldn’t be okay either. I wouldn’t want that. But maybe I should teach you some basic first aid now that your mojo gets patchy sometimes.” He shook his head. That would require them to be in the same room for more than five minutes. Stupid suggestion. “Look, if you’d want to heal me that badly if we were swapped over here, that’s what I want to do to you right now, get it?”

“I um. I think so.” The line between Cas’s eyebrows grew deeper. “It’s fine now anyway. It barely hurts,” he lied, gripping his shoulder tightly.

“Sure. Okay, Black Knight.”

Cas squinted.

“The Black Knight – ‘‘tis but a flesh wound’? Guess you didn’t get Monty Python in the pop-culture upload. We’ll add it to the list we-” But Dean remembered that they didn’t watch movies together anymore. “Doesn’t matter. Just take your damn coat off, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

That finally cracked a smile onto Cas’s pale face. His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled endearingly.

Dean felt a strong flare of affection at seeing Cas’s smile, after seeing him looking so defeated before, that it immediately softened all of Dean’s concern-masked-as-irritation and he found himself smiling back. He’d missed this. So damn much.

“I’ll patch you up,” Dean said gently, “then you get dibs on the first shower, since you’re the one covered in the most blood. Winchester tradition.”

“I don’t need-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you can just magic your mess away when your power’s back on, but you’re really just gonna sit here like that until then?”

Cas looked down at himself. “You have a point.”

“Always do. Looks like you’ll just have to enjoy shitty motel water pressure like the rest of us.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “And going first means you get the hottest water.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said.

“Then we can both go to sleep so you can recharge your batteries. You can sleep when you’re like this, right? But stitches first. After that there’ll be no touching involved,” Dean added, before he could stop himself. As much as he enjoyed talking to Cas again, it only served as a depressing reminder that they weren’t like this anymore. He gave a sad, weak little laugh, and even he could hear the pain in his voice when he said, “Y’don’t even have to look at me.”

Cas immediately slid off his bed with a rustle, and he was on his knees in front of Dean in the time it took for him to open his mouth to ask what was happening. His eyes shined wetly in the dingy motel room lighting as he gazed up intensely – vulnerable and raw – into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, no. This wasn’t supposed to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you,” Cas said in a voice thick with emotion. “Doing this – distancing myself… It was supposed to make things better, but it… only made everything worse. I hate being apart from you. I hate it. This wasn’t- it’s not- it’s not your fault.” He spoke haltingly, like he was struggling. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I- I don’t know how to explain-”

They were closer than they had been in weeks, and yet Dean could still feel the distance. His heart sunk. “This is starting to feel a whole lot like the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, man.”

Cas scrunched his face up, and Dean knew he was trying to think of a way to say what he meant. He wondered if Angels weren’t very big talkers in their true forms. It was reminiscent of when they first met, and how Cas used to struggle with sarcasm and slang.

Cas already told him once that he’d only started to feel real, strong emotions (Dean called them his Real Boy Feelings) since rescuing him from Hell, so it made sense that he still struggled sometimes. And anyway, Dean had been human his whole life and it wasn’t like he was much better at the whole sharing your feelings crap.

Cas finally looked up through his lashes at him – his expression wary. “Hold out your hand, Dean.”

“What?”

“Hold out your hand, please. I can show you what’s been going on.”

---- Read the rest on AO3 ----

[thatonebirdwrites]

I still plan to finish my TLOK: Shared Moments series -- especially Book 3.5 and 4 at least, but I simply cannot do the pace I did last year. I can't. My health is too poor and my heart too broken. So let's talk about it.

For this post in particular, I want to discuss how parts of the Korrasami fandom broke my heart.

I also will talk about how Supercorp fandom is helping me heal. I want to be clear here. This post is not about pitting these fandoms against each other. Both have their flaws, their beauty, their awesome people, and their mean people. I love them both. This is simply my tale of how one broke my heart and how the other helps me heal that.

I also preface that there are wonderfully beautiful people I've met in the Korrasami fandom, some who have become friends over the span of the last year and a half. The kindness and care from @snazzy-korra and the Korrasami friend I talk to on Discord has been life-saving in different ways. I'm forever grateful and highly appreciative of these people's kindness and support and for the kind readers who left kind comments.

I also wish to be clear that I have always been honest in my end-notes about the fact that I have a disability, that my health might slow me down, or I may share an anecdote about my life (my disability impacts my life heavily, but it also is not all I am) to explain why I wrote a scene the way I did. Folks seemed to appreciate learning about the inner workings of the writer's mind and the research I've done. So it's why I tend to have detailed end-notes.

So when readers, who acknowledged these end-notes and commented about my bravery at being a disabled writer, turn around and viciously attack me and pull out every single ableist argument about how the character, who became disabled in my story, is now less than?

That is fucking personal.

That is them directly telling me that they don't see disabled people like myself as their equal in dignity or respect. They don't even respect me as a person worthy of being treated with kindness. Instead, they remind me yet again of how they view disabled people as less than.

Where they wanted the disability written out of the story. They wanted erasure, and thus it felt like a stab in my heart.

Because in the end, such arguments are rooted in a fear of this simple truth:

Anyone can become disabled at any time.

Some people fear that truth. Likely because they would have to face the fact that the horrid ways they treat us disabled people could be how they end up treated if they become disabled.

So instead of fixing society and the systems harming us disabled folks, and creating instead accessible and equitable and kinder systems that help all people thrive -- they instead demand erasure. Demand that people like me cease to exist in their space. That our stories not be visible.

It went beyond a fight in comments to direct messages/asks and at least one tumblr blog directly harassing me (referencing my writing as the reason). It felt like my few places where I felt somewhat safe to share my writing had been broken into and trashed.

It's sad and heartbreaking in so many ways, because these people are refusing to see the absolutely beauty and wonder that is disabled people and our creativity.

[Yes, I know the tools that can help protect me like comment moderation, but again, the point of this post isn't about fixing my behaviors.

Because my behaviors weren't the problem. It's about a very real problem in fandoms, where AUs that involve a beloved character becoming disabled turn into an avenue to cause harm to that author. (Instead, of just not commenting and not reading it.)

If this isn't pointed out or ever talked about, then how do we learn and grow and find ways to repair the fandom to be kinder? To call out hurtful behaviors and support those harmed by it? Why should we let folks suffer in silence, when we can talk about it and better support one another? To build better habits and encourage others to build those kinder habits with us?]

Becoming disabled is not a bad thing. It doesn't have to be. We are still beautiful, wonderfully creative, and awesome people who deserve the same love, respect, care, and dignity as any non-disabled person.

Ignoring or running from the pain doesn't make it go away, as I did that and instead it ended up tainting what had been a deep love.

Acknowledging the pain and/or grief and choosing to heal is what alleviates it. The Korrasami fandom introduced me to fanfiction. I'd never written fanfiction in my life before I decided to write How Was Those Three Years to dig into how those years were like for Asami.

I'd never read so much fanfiction before either. I didn't realize the wealth of creativity and wonder that is hidden in the corridors of AO3. It was a beautiful sight to behold. I discovered this truth through Korrasami.

Writing Korrasami helped me rekindle my writing again. Even with my poor health, even when I struggle to get out of bed, even as I lost my ability to do things I used to love to do, fandom helped me re-establish my writing habits. I was writing again. The one thing I love to do the most.

At least my health hadn't taken away my writing and art. Isn't that a beautiful thing to discover? I found a way to grieve what I lost but still rejoice in what I can still do. But at the same time, I've never been more hurt and shattered by a fandom than I have daring to write an alternate universe story, where I learned that the limit of people's care ends at the moment they perceive your disability.

Where you cease to be a person in their eyes.

Where you become less than.

Thus, I truly struggled on how to move forward for months, where writing became harder and harder to do.

I didn't want to lose the joy I had found, but I didn't know how to safely heal either. And I like sharing my stories. The act of sharing them was part of how I redicovered my joy of writing again.

It was here on tumblr, where I found a niche that helped me heal.

It all started with a continuation to one of @fazedlight's ficlets, which randomly appeared on my 'for you' page.

I hadn't even finished Supergirl yet at that point, but the AU in that ficlet, where Kara decides to trust Lena and reveals she's an alien due to the alien detector? How utterly fascinating way to rewrite that scene.

I'm not even sure why I felt the need to write that continuation, but it's like my fingers had a mind of their own. I felt so inspired, and after a few months of being trapped in that well of feeling utterly broken, it was like glimpsing sunlight for the first time in months.

And I found I couldn't stop. I started to write other little ficlets based on GIFs about Supercorp. I started reading fanfiction about Supercorp. I realized Lena Luthor is really just a morally grey Asami Sato, and Kara Zor-El Danvers is basically Avatar Korra. So of course it was easy to write them. I already had practice with Korrasami.

I then went and watched the last three seasons to finally finish Supergirl, and was horrified by just how bad the writing was in 5 and 6, that now I wanted to write my own fix-it fic.

But I was scared to do it. I'd already had my heart broken by Korrasami. I already had a big project there I need to finish for my own sake, because it's so, so important to my own heart.

But at the same time, should I dare to share my stories again? Put myself out there in a different fandom?

Because I can't stress enough how I had seriously considered deleting my AO3 account due to how hurt I was over Korrasami (my two Korrasami buddies kept me from doing that, and they might not ever realize their influence there. I'd downloaded all the fics I'd written and gave myself a due date to decide.)

I was scared to share my stories, and I needed support to decide if I could do it again. If I dared to do it.

Then I discovered thanks to @luthordamnvers and @snowydragonscave a server for Supercorp shippers, and Holy shit.

It was okay to be disabled there.

People from all sorts of walks of life were there. They were supportive (and such enablers, my heavens).

I wasn't seen as less than.

People treated me like a human being.

It gave me courage to start posting the stories I'd written about Supercorp to AO3, and then holy crap.

The comments from Supercorp readers welcomed me as a new writer. They were encouraging. (Sure, there was mean comments here and there, but they weren't so horrifically personal in their attacks like the few hurtful Korrasami readers.)

I wept over those comments. Those people may never know how healing it was to read kind and encouraging comments. These people welcomed me, a stray writer into their shelter, and gently and tenderly offered support, advice, and constructive criticism in ways that uplifted the author.

Sure, it's possible I'll get viciously attacked for who I am again in the Supercorp fandom, but right now, most folks I talk with in the Supercorp fandom have been kind. Mean comments haven't been so acutely personal in their attacks, and it's a reprieve that allows space to heal.

My first love - Korrasami - will always be my first love in terms of ships. This is a truth. Supercorp is second in line, but I feel, right now, it's a little safer for my heart to write Supercorp.

I do promise to finish Shared Moments, but it will take longer simply because I'm still healing.

Parts of the Korrasami fandom broke my heart, but a good portion of the Supercorp fandom is mending it back together.

That's a beautiful thing too.

The stories I write are imperfect. I know I mess up a lot. But I do hope that people walk away from my stories having learned something. Or at the very least walk away with some semblance of hope.

Because in the end, in a world that seems hellbent on reminding marginalized people of how our lives are disposable, choosing hope becomes a radical act in liberation.

Our stories deserve to be told. Deserve to be cherished.

So in conclusion, never underestimate your kindness toward others. You may touch them in ways you may never fully know.

Thank you for all my readers, who have been supportive and kind. You're helping a broken writer heal. I will forever appreciate and treasure all of you.

Thanks for reading.

[shinakazami1]

Nobody is gonna read this prob but I today wrote some The Beginner's Guide snippets to kinda try to see if I like this style for a fanfic I plan

Short one here, more under the cut:

In a way, he knew what he was doing. Deep down, not even he could hide that his intentions were not just a pure concern and worry. But, just like the Coda he made in his mind, he himself had nobody to look for help for.

Maybe that's why, in the room full of people he knew and kept saying he loved and cared for, he couldn't bring himself to say a single word. Because the moment the eyes looked at him again, he knew he had to keep the act going.

'But there is no act. It's just me.'

It's just me and my depressed friend's games.

And I'll get him out.

Because nobody else will do that for him.

---

Davey stared at the wall and listened to the clock ticking. It seemed the mechanism was not a typical one - there seemed to be a small delay, making the rhytm uneven. Pam, pampam, pam... it did match his breathing pattern. In, hold for a second, out and quickly in again. Or maybe, he matched the mechanism.

It was hard to tell what inspired what at this point. Everything blended into one shape, no matter what creator of either intended.

Everything had a purpose in a way that maybe nobody even desired.

But that would be sad, wouldn't it be? For your work to grow up from the idea into a grotesque fleshened out monster of what it was supposed to be?

Was it what it was to be a creator? A loving embrace of a child you'd never be able to look at, that will never grow up to an image of itself that it was never supposed to really reach.

He didn't notice that he stopped breathing until he coughed out.

It was four pm. He still had three hours left.

And it felt like waiting for the guillotine to fall. For the choir to stop singing, for the last scene, when the director would say, cut.

Was he cut out for all this? He didn't know and he didn't dare to question it. He knew that from some spirals, he couldn't get out.

So how did Coda do it? How did he just, leave his creations, to die, to never be appreciated and seen? To be able to tell others of what it was supposed to be?

Why couldn't he consider the feelings of his creation?

Why couldn't he appreciate the code?

And why did he invite Davey over, for the first time?

---

20092311_230320.mp4

"I still don't get it. It's supposed to be a self expression but why would you self insert in a way that's supposed to be accessible, supposed to be PLAYED if you don't give it to others? Video games show a story in many ways. Sound, sight and most importantly - interactibility. So what's the point of a language when you keep it to yourself? We would not go far enough if-"

Hearing some knocking on the door make him pause the recording. He hated that - he typically picked an hour when others were away just so he could have a moment of peace to write everything down with his voice.

Davey sighed and turned around, asking his brother to come on in.

Whatever was the topic of the conversation was probably not important, as Davey didn't mention it in the recording at all.

The last time he mentioned anything beside game making was around a year before.

The game jam wasn't a start - it was only an aftereffect.

Just as what was going to come next.

---

"(...) It's Friday already. And I still have 23 more games to check. He had to hide an easter egg somewhere, right? It's not just a hundred of copies of the same room. He always shows some nuiance in routine, in the whole madness.

It's... 2:33 now. I have to wake up in 4 hours.

But I won't be able to fall asleep until I find the key.

The puzzle IS here. It's in here, somewhere, and I am probably not seeing it correctly.

Ok. Just, maybe five more games. And I'll try to look through the code.

Davey, out."

20091301_052330.mp4

"It's me again. I don't know what I am missing. Probably some coffee. Just two games left, it's probably in there.

I'll take my laptop with me to work. They shouldn't mind, I did stuff like this before, I'll just pretend it's work related.

I'll crack the code until midnight. And I'll show him I've done my job correctly.

Now, I have to pack and hope the vending machine works.

Davey, out."

---

"Consumption is for consumers, not for the actual food enjoyers. But the enjoyers only are up their own theories of what the flavours really represent."

"But we're talking about game develo-"

"Which one are you? Do you enjoy food?"

Davey was not prepared to be put on a spot. Coda rarely asked him anything, or even said hi back - so, such forward question was not typical.

He wasn't dumb - he knew it was all a metaphor. And he wanted to just start his point showing that it isn't a perfect one. Now, he only had one true option to choose from because there would be no resets.

Or so he thought.

He heard a sigh and looked up at Coda as the man already turned his back.

"It was an illusions of a choice."

One that Davey once again couldn't make.

---

[bluemantics]

Aftermath of Omega Shield Klance Oneshot

One second, everything had been normal. Keith was sitting next to Lance in the common room, laughing over some dumb Altean movie.

“God, this is so low-budget,” Lance snorted. “I think the rabbit creature just beat the cow thing?”

“No, no, the cow is fine,” Keith pointed out, pulling another giggle from Lance that made Keith feel warm.

The next second, Lance was frozen.

Stock. Still. Eyes unmoving, fixed on the television device as it played a scene with lightning.

“Lance?” Keith waved a hand in front of Lance’s eyes, desperation creeping into his voice. No response. His brown eyes, normally so vibrant, were cloudy and unseeing. “Wake up, shit, please wake up!” He grabbed Lance’s shoulders and shook him once.

Lance blinked quickly, hands rising up to shield his face as he came out of his stupor. Keith breathed a relieved sigh, leaning back against the couch and staring at Lance. The other Paladin was shaking, hands over his face, so Keith turned off the television with a remote.

He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t Hunk. Fuck, he wasn’t Lance, he didn’t know how to help with emotional episodes.

“Is there… anything I can do? What happened?” he tried weakly.

Lance sucked in a deep breath as the questions hung in midair, dangling between them. Keith knew his absence from the team had been a hard time for all of them. He’d never seen Lance like this, though, rendered helpless.

Finally, after a few deep breaths, Lance spoke.

“I died, Keith.”

The whole universe went quiet.

Keith saw Lance’s mouth moving, registered something about Allura and Omega Shield, but there was no sound. His ears were popping. The pressure was too much.

“So… yeah,” Lance finished, hands awkwardly stilled in midair from where he’d been gesturing.

“Does the team know?” Keith asked, numb.

“… I don’t even know if Allura remembers. No, Samurai, they don’t know.” Keith nodded.

Lance looked down at his hands in his lap. Keith let his eyes follow them too, those always cold hands resting on blue pajama bottoms, and tried to shove aside images of those same hands staying cold forever.

“Are you mad?” Lance whispered.

Keith’s head shot up. Lance looked him in the eye, expression set and jaw clenched. “I don’t regret what I did at all. I would do it again. Just because I—“

Because Keith was a coward, and he couldn’t bear to hear it again, to listen to what he’d been absent from, he grabbed Lance’s shoulders for the second time that night to pull him into a hug.

“…oh,” Lance said, as Keith pulled him into his body. Keith glared over his shoulder and grabbed fistfuls of Lance’s shirt in his hands.

“Not mad,” Keith managed. “Just, please. Never again.” Lance’s smell was distinct, a soft clean scent that Keith readily breathed in.

“You know I can’t promise that, Red.”

Keith just held on tighter.

“I’m not leaving again.”

Lance started shaking.

When Keith felt a wet spot grow through the shoulder of his shirt, he stayed silent and carried Lance’s weight through the tremors.

[moreorlez]

And We Meet Again (final chapter)

After almost 2 years and thanks to the comments of a reader, I will update my Clexa fic And We Meet Again soon. I was planning one big ass final long chapter, but that would just be the perfect excuse to delay it even longer. The final chapter (52) will be split into 2. I'm really nervous about this, it's been a long time, but I'm going to do this for this reader. I will always remark on the power of a nice, good-hearted comment. I would like to take this opportunity to ask everyone who reads fanfic to leave a comment, for the love of God! You have no idea how much influence and power it has on a writer. It helps with writer's block or even encourages them to update after years. So yeah, please, please, if you like a fic, leave a comment. It might be a silly thing for you, but it could mean the world to a fic writer. May we meet again.

[moregraceful]

sign by frausorge

Thom is good with kids.

An achy, expertly executed 100 word drabble that captures the past/present/future anxieties and possibilities that spin out in front of you're young and brave. I think about it constantly. Another banger from frausorge.

For @hrpffandomeventblog's April event: moodboards. Photos: 1, 2 & 3, 4. Translation: "Now the couch is full again, fun to have the gang at home" [Instagram story from Fimpen Eklund, William Eklund's dad.]

[flo55i]

Somebody sends you a lovely comment on a wip you wrote and so I’m reading it again, agreeing with them, nodding my head and then suddenly I have Google docs open and I’m writing again. It’s not a lot but after a month of accidental hiatus courtesy of writers block and low self esteem it’s fucking amazing. Thankyou. X

[coruscanti-arabi]

white people stop telling fans of color what is and isn't racism.

!Impossible Challenge!

!NOT CLICKBAIT!

[nightingaleflow]

The magic of getting comments, man.

I was thinking about going to bed, but I just got the loveliest comment on one of my fics, and now I just want to stay up and write.

[honeyblockm]

ummmm ok so lets get the ball rolling no rest for the wicked by a_ghoul because man theres a lot of stuff thats unfolded recently. it's uhhh platonic dteam manhunt au. warning it gets pretty heavy and graphic and has a lot of tws and is definitely not for everyone buuuut the worldbuilding is really cool and extensive and everytime facts about the world and characters feel like theyve been laid bare it goes another layer down and it was just really cool to see it unfold :D . has really fun takes on minecraft mechanics and interesting derivations of the characters. like while theyre not their canon characterizations, i think it's neat where it takes the guys. the relationships between the characters are also so good hold on im putting the rest under readmores because that's mild spoiler territory

bad boy halo and sapnap are siblings in this one and oh its rlly good and rlly fraught even though they love and care about each other but they have fucked up invariably. bbh catholic guilt moment /j

quackity also! he is pretty solidly an unrepentant villain for the first half or so of the fic but now he is my scrunkly little war criminal girlboss who does atrocities at the same rate that he cries about them. lmao. im trying to say that i like how his character is turning out too. he's also cool. evil and cool.

the running theme in the fic is that everyone's a monster and they are all needlessly cruel or destructive in some way, (so yeah definitely not some people's fare. read the cws) some more than others, and have different methods of confronting and contending with that :D. the other thing it plays with is. like. significance on a immortal frame of time and reference. rejecting indifference because the bonds and the love the characters feel for each other are still so important even if it's fleeting.

also sapnap ^-^

[allylikethecat]

I literally hate asking writers about updates, but I wanted to know if you have any sort of estimate on when on a Friday will be updated?

Hi! I don't have an exact timeline, other than "I have not forgotten about it and am still actively working on it" I'm so happy to hear that you are enjoying it though! I know the omegaverse isn't for everyone but it is one I am having a lot of fun working on!

At the moment the A&E fic has basically completely taken over my life (and tomorrow's update might not actually be finished yet...) but I am excited to dive back into my other fics - we are in the home stretch of the A&E fic! The end is in sight!

I'm hoping to be able to update You Know Where the City Is Next (that chapter is so close to being done) and then hopefully On a Friday and Make Way for Ducklings.

Thank you so much for reading and I'm so sorry if this wasn't the answer you were looking for! I hope you like the update when it's finally done!

❤️Ally

[echoekhi]

I’m Declaring War Against “What If” Videos: Project Copy-Knight

What Are “What If” Videos?

These videos follow a common recipe: A narrator, given a fandom (usually anime ones like My Hero Academia and Naruto), explores an alternative timeline where something is different. Maybe the main character has extra powers, maybe a key plot point goes differently. They then go on and make up a whole new story, detailing the conflicts and romance between characters, much like an ordinary fanfic.

Except, they are fanfics. Actual fanfics, pulled off AO3, FFN and Wattpad, given a different title, with random thumbnail and background images added to them, narrated by computer text-to-speech synthesizers.

They are very easy to make: pick a fanfic, copy all the text into a text-to-speech generator, mix the resulting audio file with some generic art from the fandom as the background, give it a snappy title like “What if Deku had the Power of Ten Rings”, photoshop an attention-grabbing thumbnail, dump it onto YouTube and get thousands of views.

In fact, the process is so straightforward and requires so little effort, it’s pretty clear some of these channels have automated pipelines to pump these out en-masse. They don’t bother with asking the fic authors for permission. Sometimes they don’t even bother with putting the fic’s link in the description or crediting the author. These content-farms then monetise these videos, so they get a cut from YouTube’s ads.

In short, an industry has emerged from the systematic copyright theft of fanfiction, for profit.

Project Copy-Knight

Since the adversaries almost certainly have automated systems set up for this, the only realistic countermeasure is with another automated system. Identifying fanfics manually by listening to the videos and searching them up with tags is just too slow and impractical.

And so, I came up with a simple automated pipeline to identify the original authors of “What If” videos.

It would go download these videos, run speech recognition on it, search the text through a database full of AO3 fics, and identify which work it came from. After manual confirmation, the original authors will be notified that their works have been subject to copyright theft, and instructions provided on how to DMCA-strike the channel out of existence.

I built a prototype over the weekend, and it works surprisingly well:

On a randomly-selected YouTube channel (in this case Infinite Paradox Fanfic), the toolchain was able to identify the origin of half of the content. The raw output, after manual verification, turned out to be extremely accurate. The time taken to identify the source of a video was about 5 minutes, most of those were spent running Whisper, and the actual full-text-search query and Levenshtein analysis was less than 5 seconds.

The other videos probably came from fanfiction websites other than AO3, like fanfiction.net or Wattpad. As I do not have access to archives of those websites, I cannot identify the other ones, but they are almost certainly not original.

Armed with this fantastic proof-of-concept, I’m officially declaring war against “What If” videos. The mission statement of Project Copy-Knight will be the elimination of “What If” videos based on the theft of AO3 content on YouTube.

I Need Your Help

I am acutely aware that I cannot accomplish this on my own. There are many moving parts in this system that simply cannot be completely automated – like the selection of YouTube channels to feed into the toolchain, the manual verification step to prevent false-positives being sent to authors, the reaching-out to authors who have comments disabled, etc, etc.

So, if you are interested in helping to defend fanworks, or just want to have a chat or ask about the technical details of the toolchain, please consider joining my Discord server. I could really use your help.

------

See full blog article and acknowledgements here: https://echoekhi.com/2023/11/25/project-copy-knight/

[thatdeadaquarius]

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

[swervesbar]

@yes-i-write-fanfiction I saw your comment and I got a vision SO POWERFUL I had no choice but to draw it

[onceuponapuffin]

You know what we're gonna do, folks? We're going to write a self-insert fanfiction together with the Power of Polls. Just because it sounds like a fun time to me.

Do I have any Outline or Plan? No. Do I have any idea what I'm doing with this? No. Any clue what I'm unleashing here? No. What do I have? Heart?? And...the power of friendship probably.

Whatever. Let's do this.

*******(***

Dear Reader,

Whatever you, yes YOU, are doing in your life right now, is suddenly interrupted. The ground begins to rumble and the walls begin to melt. Are you sick? Are you dehydrated? Who knows. The ground groans and drops beneath your feet and you fall before you can do so much as scream.

You land arse-first, in a way that you really hope no one saw. Quick as you can, you scramble to your feet only to find...that you did, in fact, have an audience.

You are in Aziraphale's bookshop. A quick glance around tells you the situation. Four sets of dumbstruck eyes stare at you in surprise. Muriel from the bookshelves, Crowley from the chair at the desk, Aziraphale to your immediate left, and the Metatron to your immediate right. Metatron is holding the someone-forsaken coffee cup.

Right now, you are the only one with even the faintest idea what's going on, but it won't last.

Next || Current

[dcxdpdabbles]

Nice how about to give you one of my old DC DP crossover prompts

Danny is a big fanfic writer for Batman, most of the time doing Tim joins the bat family early and Alternate attack on Titan's Tower. After his accident he decides to write a Jason Todd is a halfa straight out of the grave fic. Just to get his emotions out there and to vent and it gets incredibly popular.

As Time evolves the fic itself evolves from a vent fic to a under the table way to reanalyze his ghost fights and do better by transplanting his ghosts into the fic for Jason to fight. This happens generally okay until Penelope Spectra of unlike the other ghosts she was known by the rest of the world and was actually tracked by Reddit. Making the fans realize hey this is actual going on maybe not by Jason Todd but someone is using this to reanalyze their fights under the veneer of being fiction.

Danny starts to get famous for his fanfictions when he introduces the idea of halfas for the second Robin. He's not sure what happened to the second Robbin, but there are rumors he didn't die; he just retired, and the fans all accept that as the truth.

At first, Danny writes the second Robin struggling with his double life, as alive and dead, forced to hide his existence from Batman as a secret helper at night. He uses the second Robin to freely speak about his struggles with his powers in the early days, using fiction to cover his venting.

He even gave Robin a secret identity- with a disclosure that it was all made up and he did not know anything about the Bats because fans can be crazy- with the name Noir.

He made Noir a loser in school- consistently bullied, his grades were low without Batman's help, and he even had Noir live on the streets for a while before getting flung into the Ghost Zone.

Danny didn't realize it, but his writing made Noir a loveable character to his fans, who all loved "how flawed but kind-hearted" Noir, the halfa Robin. One of Danny's best commenters always claimed that Danny captured the second Robin's character.

He quickly develops Noir into someone who grows comfortable in his role after defeating the old Ghost King and getting discovered by Batman. He made the series with Noir, focusing more on the threats of the other ghosts that came to challenge the Ghost King.

Each ghost was based on his own rouges- all fighting the same way but with different names. Danny switched his main focus from Noir being confused by his powers to Noir getting stronger and stronger through all his fights.

Instead of venting on what life had done to him, Danny used his fanfiction to analyze his fights. He often wrote about what he could have done better, only after writing the actual scene and using that in a fight later on.

He even threw in there some questions that Noir started having about boys- which in high sight he should have known Jazz would have quickly picked up on because she took him to Pride "just to experience new things, Danny!"

He confirmed Noir was bi two updates later and sat back with a smirk when all the comments started rolling in.

Noir's Double Life was his pride and joy. He thought people had to search for his fic, and no one besides his sister would ever read it. Then he made the mistake of writing in a new ghost- Penny Spectra- using her exact powers, thinking no one would recognize her.

What he forgot was that back before Danny kicked her ass into the ghost zone, was that she was a well-known school counselor. A miracle worker, they called her.

Because she always found the teenagers about to fall apart and "saved" them. She had made her way clear across the country, bringing to light issues parents and guardians had no idea their children were going through and getting them the help they needed.

Mr. Lancer had been proud of getting her to come to the school for good reason.

Most adults also didn't know that teenagers talk to each other or, like Danny, post online to vent. Her past victims- for they were victims as some had not been able to pull themselves from the darkness she plunged them into- had started a riddle trend about her.

People began to piece together that whenever she went young people became more and more depressed. They had no proof of course, so she became an urban legend, a demon that appeared as a woman in schools.

Like when a celebrity is turned into a meme for being a secret serial killer, no one takes it seriously, but they think about it in the back of their minds.

Danny just wrote about her with a far too honest retelling of what she had done and how he had found out she was a ghost. He hadn't realized that one of his readers would be one of the original responders for the old Reddit thread about the fact he was a past victim.

That same reader would later link his work for the thread- especially the chapter where she appeared- and everyone would agree that the real Penelope Spectra was a ghost.

And that would be read by Tim Drake, a young member of Riddit who always took mysteries to heart and knew what was real and what wasn't.

This sane Tim Drake would later present Jason to the fanfiction in an effort to tease him about someone adoring him so much they wrote a fic about it and Jason would surprise him with claiming to have already been following the story. \

Their bickering would grab the attention of Bruce, Zatanna, and Constantine, who were in the room next door talking about protection against the dead.

John will be alarmed to see how accurate the fanfiction writer's description of ghosts and King Phantom is, then even more alarmed to find that the writer knows about halfas.

Two days after he posted the newest chapter, Danny is hunted down by Batman to find the human with an insane amount of knowledge about the Infinite Realms and his second son's condition.

Danny would be busy trying to decide if he should give in to the idea of giving Noir a ship and who it should be with while his friendlier ghosts beta-read his work.

"Honestly, I'm a little flatter about how hot you made me sound. Noir definitely has a crush on James the ghost biker." Johnny says flouting to read over Danny's shoulder.

Kitty nods eagerly from where she is lounging on the couch. "I agree, James and Noir are meant to be Danny!"