#go read part one on ao3!!!!

[wytchsbrew]

Part two of Unholy Devotion will be told through Wolfwood's point of view.

Do you know what that means, readers? It means I'm about to write a thousand words about how beautiful Vash is. Stay tuned for me writing through tears.

[faeriekit]

Quiet Respite (Masterpost) ❤🕸🕷

art (top) by @not-another-robin ❤🕷

❤🕸🕷🦇❤

(DCxMarvel/'Dark Matter-genre" fanfic)

"Cassandra Cain is Batgirl. Cass is a newly adopted sister. Cass is a dancer. Cass has found a spider. What is to be done with the spider stands to be seen."

(AKA a sweeping attempt by the author to write something of a slowburn romance between Cass Cain and Peter Parker. Hits every trope under the sun and then some.)

Warnings for: Romance | Author blows up the MCU | Lack of regard for any canon timeline, really | Identity Tomfoolery | Non-Deaf author writes about/around ASL | Mentions of Injury | References to Homelessness

❤🦇🕸🕷❤

Find the entire fic here on AO3 (art included)

Chapter list:

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

Enjoy!

❤🦇🕸🕷❤

[queerweewoo]

When there's now this thing in your life, a new thing between you and another person, a thing you can't quite put your finger on to be able to try and describe it.

When you start to become so comfortable with this person that they start to become your person, and before you're really aware that anything has changed between you, you've just suddenly become one hundred percent theirs.

When you then get so close to that person that you don't really realise that things have shifted so significantly between you, because it's so infinitesimally and yet so dramatically all at once, and because everything just feels so damn right all the time and exactly the way you feel things are supposed to feel, so why would you ever think about changing it?

When it dawns on both you and that person—maybe one of you gets there before the other, maybe both at the same time?—that the two of you have moved on from being just friends and are morphing into something else, so seamlessly and with such ease that you don't have to question it, because it is just a thing that sort of is now.

When your touches become lighter, lingering things, softer and warmer and more frequent than before, and occurring much, much more and in a very different way than with anybody else in your life.

When you and your person and this thing that you now share become more wanting and more needy, and yet somehow so unerringly steady, and also so wonderfully and assuredly grounding and immovable, all as one, all at the very same time.

When together, you become more.

When you find you have found your way to your person, and to this thing, the thing that you now mold and nurture and that molds and nurtures you, slowly; unwaveringly; absolutely; discovering that it's helps you to move in new ways and to unfold as a person, to breathe, to settle into yourself.

When you have this thing (all of these things) in your life and realise that this is it, this is the thing they've been writing about throughout the ages.

When you realise that this thing—your thing—is a thing called love.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

you know what's fucking insane though???

it's only been 3 days in the mafia front fic. THREE DAYS= ~34k. (so far, we're still on day three rn)

wow i'm truly insane. three days... mein gott

(potential spoilers for this fic in tags???)

[skunkes]

i keep wanting to get into reading books in spanish bc im a heritage speaker and was the only one in my family that didnt go to school in mexico past age 4 so my reading (and writing) skills are lacking, but theyre all either like. Non fiction historical, bilingual books specifically made for people just learning spanish, or just like, translated books that run the risk of being european spanish.... mexican authors of fiction are u out there. Save me. Save me.

[books-and-dragons]

interesting to me that when ao3 goes down it's always 'number one trending topic', 'thousands of people talking about missing reading fics', and all sorts of other fanfic withdrawal symptoms, generally just feeling, and being impacted by, the Absence of Fanfic

but it's never 'leaves a comment on fanfic', 'gives kudos and recommends to friends', 'follows author/interacts with them in any way shape or form and otherwise lets them know how much you value their writing and fanfiction in general'

[drawyourheart]

my favorite drawing in a while

[snickerdoodlles]

regarding posting extra fic content that is not fic, but being worried about notifications... i have no idea how user subscriptions for pseuds work on AO3, but would it be a viable option to post those extra things under a pseud and then you can make it a related work to the fic in question?

it doesn't work! :( anyone who's subscribed to my main 'snickerdoodlles' username will get notifications for everything i post on AO3 that isn't anonymous because the pseuds still tie back to it. which is actually really convenient for me in every other case, but ajkfdjh.

right now i'm mostly considering building up a queue of tumblr posts that i'd want to copy over to AO3, then making a specific story post that's in my anon collection as i move stuff over. i can link all the story stuff together in the fics themselves, then take them out of the anon collection after i've finished uploading everything so that it's just one email notification at the end. my only hesitation rn is that moving a bunch of stuff over sounds very boring and i'm procrastinating it lol, but that's the only method i can think of atm that won't drive me completely nuts? i also don't really want anyone getting AO3 notifications from me to become associated with "not fic" either oof, i will cry if that happens 😂

[pixelatedraindrops]

Okay I hate to gush about HIWTHI again…

But it’s so cool how I can read my own fanfic in a book-like form by downloading it from AO3 into my mobile device. And coupled with the adorable illustrations from @kazinsblog added, it’s like I’m reading a small graphic novel 🥹💕

(Pages below)

LIKE LOOK AT HOW NICE THIS LOOKS 😭👌✨

[meownotgood]

Can I ask what your ✨Aki journey✨ was like? I’m a Aki girlie but you clearly love Aki more than any blog I’ve ever seen (purrr) When did you start becoming interested in him? Was it an aHA moment or did it develop over time? I’m really curious!!! What inspired you to start this blog? I live, laugh, love backstories 🫶🏾❤️‍🔥

YES I would be so happy to answer this!!!!!!!

so before I read chainsaw man, I knew next to nothing about it, I wasn't really a manga reader in general to be honest but I started getting into it because I wanted to get caught up with jujutsu kaisen after finishing the anime. when I did, I really enjoyed jjk, I wanted to read more manga and a friend suggested I read chainsaw man because it's similar. I was like okay... a lot of people are into it... it looks cool... why not.

and when I started reading and I got to that third chapter and I saw aki... I literally said to myself: yeah, he is going to be my favorite. because he's exactly my type — the suit, the hair tied up so it's long and pretty when he takes it down, the SMOKING??? THE PIERCINGS????? I thought his hair was silly but adorable, his personality was stern but quirky and likable, his kon power was so cool. he was just so cute and hot and definitely my type of character.

but really, even though aki was always my favorite character from the start, my obsession truly began when I finished the manga. aki's arc is just so good... I fell in love with him the whole way through but especially after the manga was over... I loved watching him grow as a character, he just feels so real and relatable personality wise and story wise. he's immensely flawed but kindhearted to his core. he's so human. I love how he's emotional and soft and the conclusion to his arc is genuinely my favorite thing in any piece of media ever, it's so bittersweet and compelling. (and I'm a mess for that bittersweet shit okay)

anyway after I read chainsaw man for the first time I was feeling a mix of emotions between "wow that was the greatest thing ever" and "what the fuck did I just read" but more than anything I yearned for more aki, and so I read it a second time almost immediately after, and then the aki brain infection just grew worse and worse.... was screenshotting every panel of him... I read it a third time... a fourth time in the colored version to collect more panels......... I started my blog over a year ago to post fanfic and rant about aki and the rest is history

[presidentbungus]

Marcel has a way of getting things done, no matter what anyone else really wants to do about it. Tavish isn’t all too sure how he ended up here, one of two seated on a luxury private jet, chugging a steady stream of cocktails he’s already forgetting the prissy names of, using up vacation days he hasn’t had since the lawsuit, but every time he looks up at Marcel sitting across from him and slowly poring through a pile of travel magazines it just makes sense.

And well he knew what he was getting himself into in the first place—you can’t really trust a lad with a watch collection, who fancies sunglasses indoors as a slick and appropriate fashion choice, to not want to spring a trip to somewhere stiff and wealthy at nowhere, equator at every feasible opportunity.

What he lacks in natural cuteness the man makes up for in the strange ability to make anything and everything sound like the most important, life-changing thing you’ve ever considered doing. Not to mention all the well I’ll just go on my own, Tavish, another lonely soul adrift in the whirlpool of solitude, Tavish, and you can stay here and keep working since I know that’s more important to you than anything else, anything at all. And so, curse his natural susceptibility to guilt, Tavish found himself here about an hour later, since all his things were conveniently already arranged in a suitcase on his bed. What a surprise.

Something about dating the French. Marcel looks up at him, and slowly outstretches one expertly fitted leather glove across the aisle, sets it down on his hand, and says: "Tavish, mon beau. Look at this."

And then an awkward shuffling-around of the magazine he's holding with only one hand, until Tavish can see a limp page advertising--well, he assumes it's advertising some sort of spa getaway, using a lot of words he doesn't really recognize, and a completely unrelated picture underneath of dolphins turning in the waves. "The Pacific Pearl package," another pertinent tap at a flowery subsection, "one of the highest-reviewed couple's massage experiences on the continent."

'Highest reviewed'. Tavish knows he's talking it up but on the off-chance he's not he decides it's not worth the risk of breaking his poor wee heart. "Mmm. Wow," sucking down something green out of a cocktail glass. Tastes like watermelon. "That sounds great."

And here Marcel's eyebrows pitch just a little bit and oh, here it comes. "Of course, we would have to give up bungee-jumping if we wanted to slot this into the schedule--"

"Nope. Good try." There it is. "Bungee-jumping is non-bloody-negotiable." Tavish sets his glass down on the table so he can point accusingly, since Marcel's still rubbing treacherous circles into his other hand. "You gave me two… experiences to plan," god he hates that word, "and by god, we're stickin' by 'em. And that also goes for--"

"Scuba diving. I'm aware." Marcel wilts, just a little. "With the sharks. And the jellyfish. And the--"

"Anemone, killer minnows, flesh-eating sandskippers, vicious brain-melting amoebas, I know, Marce."

"You need to relax, mon coeur. Not… get your adrenaline pumping out in the wild. That's all I'm getting at."

Tavish sighs. "I can relax and have a little fun repeatedly jumping off cliffs, those two things aren't mutually bloody exclusive. And you," he says, triumphantly, "you gotta live a little. I can't be the only fun one in this relationship. It's stiflin' me growth as a person."

"I'm fun." Marcel rears back, maybe genuinely offended, though of course you can never tell with him. "I'm very fun."

"Well let's prove it, then."

Marcel opens his mouth, and then it flops shut and he leans back against the seat, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms.

It might be a bad time, but Tavish quietly adds: "Thoughts on parasailing?"

"You're on thin ice."

"Understood."

[welcometoteyvat]

Xingqiu slumps onto his desk, defeated. The deadline for a special volume of A Legend of Sword is scarcely three nights away, and yet he still hasn’t progressed past the first fight sequence. Every word he pens feels inadequate, his characters are becoming more and more crooked, and the sentences are crawling away from him like silkworms off the page—one, two, three, four… Wait—but the next arc… His valiant unnamed hero will claim a narrow victory against the Tai-Shogun’s cyborg samurai, and then—and then…

When Xingqiu’s eyelids flutter open again, the lantern by his window has dimmed considerably. He cannot have dozed off for that long, can he?

At least his father and brother are asleep. It would be best if they never find out about his sleeping schedule.

The shadow of his hand is so sharp against the pages of his lantern-lit draft. Xingqiu traces the ridges of his knuckles, a flickering black silhouette on the page beneath it. From this angle, it almost looks like a dragon’s mouth, one of the Natlan kinds… Maybe he’ll be able to see one in person someday…

He should try to finish this chapter, since it’s almost done anyways… Oh, but didn’t Calx mention something about their alchemy experiments in their last letter? Perhaps they know a potion that could increase his inspiration… it wouldn’t be too late to ask about it, right?

His eyes shut slowly.

“—qiu. Xingqiu. Hey, bookworm. Aren’t you a sorry sight, hm?” Someone is poking his shoulder. He wishes they would stop. He knows that voice. It—

“…Wh— Hu Tao? Isn’t it late? How did you even get in?” Where is she? Xingqiu can only stare blearily in the direction of her voice, strangely disembodied in the pitch-black room.

“The same way I always do; don’t tell me you already forgot? Anyways, there was business at Wuwang Hill tonight. It takes a long time to walk back.” There's rustling, the tap-tap of shoes against the sandalwood floor, and then a crackling of fire as Xingqiu's lantern flickers to life again. It illuminates Xingqiu’s room, his manuscript, and the girl leaning against his desk, idly twirling her hat round her thumb. A smile dances across Hu Tao’s peach blossom eyes, and her merry lips quirk up at the corners, greeting him warmly. Xingqiu is impressed by her liveliness at such an hour; anyone normal would never be in such a good mood in this dead of night. Of course, Hu Tao has never settled for normalcy. And he would be delighted to see her any other time, but…

“Hu Tao, I appreciate your visit, but you should head back to Wangsheng. I need to focus, and you should rest too.” Xingqiu straightens in his chair, and immediately grimaces—his back is aching. Hu Tao’s eyes narrow, and Xingqiu resigns himself. He’s never been able to hide much from her: not his double standards, his avoidance, his fatigue.

“You’ve been in this slump for at least a week, and you’re still putting on a brave face? It’s unbecoming for a chivalric hero to refuse help in dire straits, Xingqiu.” Hu Tao’s voice is rarely so serious, and Xingqiu can feel her studying him, her gaze quietly burning. He looks away. When had she become so adept at instilling that indescribable feeling of shame-guilt in him?

“How long have you been working on this dialogue? You know, inspiration won’t strike you like a lightning bolt in this dead of night, or it would’ve already.”

“I—” Xingqiu looks back at the draft. The last sentence trails off illegibly, and there are ink splatters all over the page—it seems his brush control is no better with less sleep. He sighs.

“Aiya… look at you, already so despondent. Isn’t your deadline still three midnights away? Come on, you’re already turning into a dull and uninspired young master. If you go on like this, soon I won’t have anyone to trade verses with anymore.”

“Hey! I’m not becoming dull or uninspired! I just… I just need a bit more time.” Yeah, that’s it. He just needs to get used to the flow of his story again. After all, there’s never been another way out, has there?

“Hm. Whatever you say, young master. Listen, let me tell you about the hanged ghost mystery that cropped up a week ago; it’ll send chills down your spine for sure. I guarantee it would make for an incredible plot point!” There’s a warm lilt in Hu Tao’s voice—a rare teasing fondness that makes Xingqiu raise his head. She is looking at him expectantly, eyes alight with the promise of a good story, words waiting to spill from her lips like the sweet melody of just-ready rice wine.

Really, this girl. It’s scary how much she understands him.

“Oh? Then, if it pleases Master Hu to continue, my attention is all hers.”

———

notes: i have no idea how hu tao could get into his room tbh i just accept she's better at being a prankster than i am lmao. peach blossom eyes does not just refer to hu tao's pupils, it's an eye shape classification! i thought it fits her <3 (putting this note here since I already described it like that 2x) also just imagine that xingqiu usually has relatively fast reflexes but he's eepy and tired so he isn't as alert against intruders. also, smiles serenely. they could be each other's muses and inspirations (high honor). this is rlly just xingqiu going through The Horrors (writers block) but i hope it's decent i love him dearly. i dont actually know if hu tao was written that well tbh something about writing in limited perspective kinda fucks me up idk. the more i look at this the more things i find wrong with it but i need to be free from it now or it's never getting done

also this is irrelevant to this snippet but i choose to believe in shit eyesight xingqiu who got the teyvat equivalent of contacts and/or lasik eye surgery. he would've needed glasses but he doesn't want to look like an Old Man!!!! (baizhu: ._. )

[mansplainmanipulatemalewife]

I think the reason I like oldboy so much is because deep down I too an a bitter old queen

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Who made me a Villain (2)

So um... I forgot to post here so here you go.

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

(Part 1) (here) (Part 3)

--------

Marinette woke up, confused and disoriented in her bedroom. Vivid images of her dreams playing back in her head. People turning into monsters, purple butterflies, her playing hero with a yo-yo of all things and a boy in black who made her chest ache but also filled with anger.

She walked down to the kitchen to get some water, careful not to wake up her parents. It has been a few days since she woke up in a hospital with no memories of the past 3 years or so she had been told.

Marinette put back the cup she used and sat down on the cold floor of the kitchen. The chill felt through her pyjama bottoms, kept her grounded in the world she had found herself in.

Everything felt wrong. Her parents felt distant and there was a sense of uneasiness in the city. The harsh whispers when people thought she wasn’t looking, didn’t help her at all. Something big had happened in the past three years and she had forgotten about it. 

Her room felt empty and lonely. It looked the same with a few minor changes but there was something still missing. Several somethings. If only she had a clue on what it is.

Wait.

Marinette stood up as she remembered her diary. Her past self would have written down what had gone down during the years she can’t remember. She dashed back up as quietly as she could to her diary’s hiding place.

It was not there.

The box was a decoy.

Marinette sighed. Someone, probably Chloe, might have tried to get her diary. Honestly, she can’t blame her past self for trying every way to avoid being Chloe’s punching bag to the point of being so paranoid.

Of course, she wouldn’t have thought that she might lose her memories and forget where the diary is hidden, wherever it is.

She looked inside the box again in hopes of the diary magically appearing when she noticed the inner lining that wasn’t there before.

Why would she put a padded velvet lining in a box that was supposed to be a decoy? Upon a closer look, it wasn’t glued on properly. Marinette had done something like this before for some of her friends’ gifts and she knew she wouldn't make such an amateur mistake. She took out the lining and found a key underneath. There was some writing on the back of the white cardboard which was used as a support for the lining.

‘Under the chaise’

Marinette looked under it before remembering the hidden space she made by removing a loose tile under the chaise.

There was a box with a lock on it and the key was a perfect fit. Inside was her diary and a strange dark blue glass orb.

There were a few ripped pages in the diary. Many of the pages were scribbled out and hard to read. The ones that weren’t ripped or fully scribbled over had words written backwards or in another language she didn’t know. There were many sketches of cute chibi like animals that brought a smile to her face like they were old friends she can’t remember. Then, she found a page that was different from the rest.

Firstly, it was the first one she found that was written neither backwards or in a different language. Written in big bold letters, it read:

‘Break the glass’

Marinette picked up the glass orb, finding it heavier than she thought it would be. As she inspected the glass orb curiously and confused about everything, she wondered. Why did she, the past her, go to such lengths to hide it but leave clues for someone to find?

Nothing made sense and her only answer was to break the glass like the note said. 

Marinette went up to the balcony and once she was there, she threw the orb as hard as she could onto the floor.

It shattered easily. Then, strange blue wisps escaped from it and went into her. Marinette fell onto her knees as memories of the past 3 years, her time as Ladybug and Guardian, crashed through her mind.

Once it was done, tears were streaming down her face as Marinette grieved over the loss of her beloved kwamis. Her only source of companionship in the hell that was Paris was no longer there. She was truly alone.

—---

The girl woke up in her cell, her pillow wet with tears. She sat up, wiped her cheeks and hugged her knees.

Maybe if she had taken on Kagami’s or Luka’s offer to go with them, she wouldn’t be here. It would have made it harder for the Order to track her down and maybe she could have-

The girl shook her head.

No.

It would have only dragged her only friends into the mess that was somehow her life. She wondered if she could pinpoint where it all started going wrong. Was it when Lila appeared? Or was it Hawkmoth? She could not say for sure. It could have been before that when she was placed in the same class as Chloe with Caline Bustier as her teacher. Maybe it was when the once kind Dupain-Cheng couple picked up a starving little girl off the streets who looked similar to their daughter who had died in an accident and named her Marinette.

It was no use thinking about it. She had already decided to leave the past in the past. But the future was still so bleak. While she could get out using magic, based on what she knew about superheroes from Alya’s ramblings (it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to when she thinks of the name. It feels like the name of a stranger). Batman operated Gotham, her new home, and he will probably drag her back if she escapes.

There was a chance she would be released earlier if she played nice but honestly, what use would it be if she ever gets out of Arkham.

She would be an ex-convict with a criminal record so there would still be the same hate and contempt she faced back in Paris if she ever got out.

The girl went back to sleep since worrying about it was no use and something tells her that tomorrow will be a good day.

=====

The dark-haired girl sat alone, eating her lunch. So far, that’s the only thing that wasn’t different from her life in Paris.

For starters, Arkham was nicer than she thought it would be after spending a few weeks here. Clean and neat environment, good food being served daily, mostly friendly staff members and decent cellmates.

Maybe the last one was questionable, considering some of their reputations that she heard about. But they avoided her. Mostly. There were some eyes as she was the youngest inmate currently in Arkham but she was used to it. Plus there was no hatred and hostility in those eyes which made it easier to breathe.

It was different from her imagination of dirty cells with rusty bars, having questionable grey mush for meals and the other inmates picking on her. How sad was her life that this was a huge improvement to being Marinette?

“Hello, sugar. Aren’t ya a little bit young to be here?” A voice suddenly came from in front of her.

The girl looked up in surprise to see two ladies staring at her. The one who called her was a blonde woman with dyed tips, one side blue and the other red, and she had a slight vibe that screamed unhinged. The red-headed woman, next to her, seemed more calm but she had an unusually green tint to her skin. She blinked, unsure if they were friendly or not or if she should answer. After a moment, the girl settled for a wave.

“Ives, look how cute she is. What’s your name?” The blonde exclaimed, “Mine is Harley. Harley Quinn. And this lovely flower next to me is my girlfriend, Pamela. I just call her Red.”

“Hello.” Pamela gave her a small smile to reassure her.

====

Ever since they saw the girl, Harley and Ivy had to know how someone as young as her landed in Arkham Asylum of all places.

After a bit of bribery, knocking out people and breaking and entering, they managed to get their hands on the girl’s files. They expected some type of mental illness that makes it dangerous for her to be around people but trying to kill 14 people in broad daylight was … shocking to say the least. They were also surprised to learn that she was originally from Paris and the only reason she had been sent here was because DNA tests revealed her to be a daughter of the Joker.

Harley and Pamela decided to first observe her and since she was still young, try to prevent her going down the insane clown path as much as possible with their guidance.

For the first few days, they noticed that the girl was very quiet and afraid of making a fuss. Everything about her just screamed depressed and sad.

“You know, Red. I think I figured out the 14 attempted murder charges,” Harley said one day, after observing stalking the girl.

Batman had pulled some strings so they ended up in cells opposite each other under a few conditions. (Such conditions include no more killing people, peacefully surrendering to the authorities and try to get better)

“What about her screams psycho serial murderer like her dad?” Pamela asked, looking over one of her plants, “Honestly, she’s more like a wilted plant that didn’t have sunlight for days.”

“She’s been bullied, Red. The signs are all there. I’m beginning to feel like something fishy is going on.”

Harley began pacing around her cell, “She’s very wary of authority figures so the teachers might have been in on it. She might have been isolated. Parental figures might also have abused or neglected her.”

“You are saying she snapped hard one day and decided to murder her bullies.”

“Like a wounded animal lashing out. But it’s odd. She’s like an empty shell. Like she had given up and resigned to her fate. There's just no rage. No revenge plans. No drive to do anything.”

“I agree that is kinda strange. Or she’s just biding her time and plotting how to finish the job.”

“Normally, I would agree with you but…”

“But what?”

“Her eyes, Red. They look so empty. Ya know that old saying. Eyes are the window to the soul. It looked like everything had been drained out of her.”

“You don’t think she’s going to…”

“Not yet. Maybe sometimes later down the road. It’s hard to tell.”

“Harley, you want to help her, don’t you?”

“You know me so well, Red. She got a rough start so early but she should at least get a bit of joy in her life.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Whatever plan you got cooked up, I will help you.”

“Have I ever told ya that you are the best girlfriend ever?” Harley squealed.

—----

“Um..hello to you too,” the girl replied warily and asked, “Can I help you?”

Harley and Pamela looked at each other before they sat down in front of her.

“Well, nothing really. We just wanted to talk to you, Marinette.”

The girl flinched and then glared at them, “I don’t think I ever told anyone my name.”

“Oh. You are quick, sugar,” Harley exclaimed, “We will be honest with you, Marinette.”

The girl flinched again, causing Harley to pause before making a mental note not to use the name and continuing, “For as long as I have been here, I have never met someone as young as you before. Plus you got that mysterious past vibe going on so I had to find out. A little bit of breaking and entering never hurt anyone. Your file is quite in-ter-res-ting.”

“Then you know that I killed 14 people,” the girl smirked as she brought her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers.

“Tried and failed to kill 14 people in broad daylight,” Harley corrected and the smirk disappeared, “That’s pretty bold of you. But that’s not the problem here. Why are you here?”

“I think you already know.”

“I get it. 14 people. Nearly killed them. Blah, blah, blah. What I trying to say is murdering 14 people in a very public park where there can be witnesses in broad daylight. Not likely. No one is stupid enough to do that. And I know that you aren’t. I bet that it was in self-defense more than anything. At worst, you should be charged with assault, not attempted murder.  Even then, you should be in a jail cell in Paris. Not here in Gotham.”

The girl blinked, not expecting that.

“Not only that. Even if your father is that bastard,” Harley spat out the word with contempt, “and you are declared legally insane, there are other places that they could have sent you. So why were you, no offence but a girl with no powers, sent to one of the most dangerous places in the world?”

No one had backed her up in the trial. She knew it was Lila’s influence but the fact that people she knew all her life didn’t take her side hurt. Now, in front of her was a stranger who only knew her from a file and was listing out reasons she shouldn’t have ended up where she was. It was comforting to have someone look at the facts for once and not take things as they seem.

The girl laughed, surprising the two women, “I think it’s pretty obvious. I was framed. Fourteen against one. Never stood a chance.”

“What shit are teenagers up to that they are framing each other for murder?” Pamela asked in horror.

“Some of my ‘victims’ were pretty famous with lots of money in their pockets. One supermodel, a daughter of a Mayor and one who ‘claims’ to be daughter of the Italian Ambassador. I suppose that’s why my sentence was pretty unfair. I guess even judging by Gotham’s standards.”

The two sorta knew that from researching about Marinette by illegally using the internet. With the help of a VPN and google translate to go through the news about Marinette’s case, they managed to piece together what had gone down.

“No shit. Gotham may be corrupt but this is just outrageous. Weren’t they your classmates?” Harley asked.

“They used to be nice. And then,” she paused as a dark look passed her face, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”

Harley looked at Pamela and they did that couple thing where they communicate without words in the span of a few seconds and know what the other is thinking.

“Hey, kid. Wanna go out with us?”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see in a few days what I am talking about.”

—---

The girl screamed as Harley drove them out of Arkham Asylum like a bat out of hell in a stolen van, hanging on for dear life. 

“ARE YOU INSANE? We are going to get caught!”

“No worries, sugar.” Harley replied calmly, “Me and Red are pre-ty good at breaking out. Besides, today is the Fourth of July so Bats and his nests of birdies got their hands full with whatever Calendar Man got planned.”

The girl’s head spun, either from Harley’s reckless driving or the information that made no sense dumped on her, “I think I’m going to puke.”

Pamela gave her a look of sympathy and handed her a bucket from who knows where.

After a while, Harley pulled over somewhere outside of Gotham City’s borders and the girl fell onto her knees on the ground, “Thank kwamis, it’s over.”

“Don’t be relieved yet, hun. It’s not over. The fun part is just getting started.”

“Huh?”

“This way is out of the city to throw off the Bat brats a bit. We are going back into the City another way.” Harley explained as she pointed out the direction they were going to go.

“Then, can you let Pam drive? Or me. I know how to and you can tell me which direction to take.” The girl wondered if she should make a portal to get out of enduring more of Harley’s driving.

“We are not borrowing another car. We are going to be taking,” Harley dramatically paused “,the Ivy Express.”

“The what?” the girl asked, baffled.

“Show her, Red.” Harley snapped her fingers towards Pamela.

“Alright,” Pamela exclaimed before focusing her powers on the nearby trees.

The branches nearest to them picked them up and flung them. They landed onto another tree where the same thing repeated. 

At first, the girl was terrified over the unexpected method of transport but it was similar enough to her time as Ladybug swinging across Paris that she relaxed a bit and was soon whooping along with Harley.

Where the trees ended and the city started to meet, they stole another car but this time, thankfully, Ivy drove to their hideout which is just an abandoned warehouse the couple had renovated to live in when they were out of Arkham.

Harley opened the doors and exclaimed, “Home Sweet Home.”

“Oh. Wow.” The girl looked around in awe.

The place was a perfect mix of Harley’s brand of crazy and Pamela’s love of plants. Green covered every surface they could, vines wrapping around the support columns and there was a skylight that allowed the light of dawn to filter through. Hammers and baseball bats were hung on a wall and the walls were decorated in graffiti. In the middle of the room was a giant TV and a circular sofa. There was a kitchen in a corner. There was a stairway for a raised platform which acts as a second floor and bedroom.

Suddenly, two brown furry things attacked Harley.

“My babies. Did Selina take good care of you?” Harley cooed as her hyenas licked her. 

“She did a decent job,” Pamela said, inspecting her plants.

“Down, boys. Now, let me introduce you to our newest addition. Sugar, this one here is Bud and the other one is Lou. Bud, Lou, this is…” Harley trailed off, unsure if she should say the name or not.

“Marinette’s fine,” the girl said. She had that name for most of her life. It’s just that for the past year when her name is called, nothing good ever happens. It’s the terror of being found when she doesn’t want to be and when someone tries to find her, it is usually time to ‘punish’ her for something she never did.

“But you don’t like it.”

“Just bad memories. I will get over it.” The girl tried to hide the shakiness in her voice by acting nonchalant and with a smile. It didn’t pass the two women's notice.

“How about you choose a new one?” Pamela suggested, “Like a code name. People called me Poison Ivy and it feels less personal. The only one who calls me my actual name is Batman because he’s Batman and it humanises me or so he says.”

“Besides, now that you are one of us, you need a gimmick,” Harley chimed in, swinging her arm around her girlfriend.

“What?”

“You see, Red got her thing with plants so that’s why people call her ‘Poison Ivy’. I mentioned Calendar Man earlier. His name is actually Julian and his thing is to celebrate holidays in illegal but wildest ways possible. And you know Edward, right? The bald one who we let out before we drove off with you. He does riddles and puzzles stuff as the Riddler. Point is Gotham is crazy, sugar. You need a thing so we can show you the best time of your life while you are here and you ain’t going to get that in that padded room.”

Pamela pushed Harley’s arms off and reassured the girl, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I am sure we can pull some strings so you don’t have to spend the rest of your life in Arkham and without associating with us like that. No strings attached. Promise. Harley gets ahead of herself sometimes. I suggested picking out another name because you seem uncomfortable with the one you have.”

“Sorry about that, sugar. And Red’s right. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to agree.”

“Why?” The girl asked in a soft voice.

“Why are we willing to do all of that for you?”

She nodded.

“Well,” Harley tapped her lips, “you are just a kid. Sorry, kid but in our eyes, you are. And no kids like you deserve to spend their life locked up. Reason 2 is the entire city is corrupt to the core and you need someone to show you the ropes if you are going to stay. Number 3 is because of the Joker. Once he hears about you, I know that bastard well enough that he will want to get his hands on you. Me and Red would be able to give you some protection as long as we are around.”

The girl was quiet as she thought about what they had told her. She doesn’t know much about Gotham and the two ladies were willing to help her. They even gave her an out.

“The offer about staying out of Arkham and not doing any crime. What exactly does it entail?” she asked.

“We have a friend who will hear us out about your case. He might be able to change your identity or something and get you adopted or into the foster system.”

“NO!” she cried. The girl tried to recover from her outburst by clearing her throat and replied more calmly albeit a tad shakily, “No. No. I don’t want that.”

“I am sure there are some nice people that would take you in. They don’t have to be from Gotham.”

“What if they start to hate me? What if they find out that I am Joker’s daughter and treat me like I am some sort of freak? Then, I will be sent to Arkham again. And- And- ” The girl started to have a panic attack and switched to French.

Eventually, she calmed down and found herself on the couch being hugged by Harley and Pamela on each side.

“I am guessing that panic attack has to do something with the scums you called parents, huh?” Harley asked.

“They are nice people. It’s just,” the girl bit her lip as she realised that no matter how crazy Gotham was, no one was going to believe her about Lila using magic, “they were manipulated into hating me.”

Harley pursed her lips in worry and questioned, “Do you mind sharing with the rest of us?”

The girl took in a deep breath, “You know how my classmates were more or less bullying me right? They told my parents that I was bullying this one girl and they believed my classmates even though I told them I wasn’t doing that. I guess they were disappointed about how I wasn’t the girl they had thought they had raised and dropped the bomb that I was a stand-in for their dead daughter when they visited me for my trial.”

The plants around the warehouse started to shake in response to Pamela's anger while Harley tried to not blow up as she hugged the girl tighter.

“That was pretty shitty of them. You didn’t deserve that. I only knew you for a few days and you are the sweetest, nicest kid I ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Pamela pulled them closer to her, “I agree with Harley. If I could, I would go over to Paris right now and strangle them with my vines and use their corpses for fertilisers. Human blood is great plant food.”

“Yeah and, Bud and Lou would also love having human flesh for dinner.” Harley chimed in.

The girl rubbed her eyes at the oddly sweet violent offers and said, “Thanks, guys. But I don’t think my conscience can handle people dying on my behalf.”

“Shame. I suppose my more carnivorous children can live with steak.” Pamela commented dryly.

The girl giggled and they all fell into silence. The silence only lasted for a moment before Harley jumped up and headed to the kitchen area, “Okay, this is a good enough stopping point after unloading some emotional baggage. Red, load up some films, will ya? While I will make some popcorn. It’s time for girls’ movie night. Perfect end after an Arkham breakout.”

“Do you have any preferences?” Pamela asked the girl who shook her head.

“I don’t mind anything,” she replied but after a moment of contemplation added, “Except for superheroes.”

“Good news. You are hanging out with two partially-reformed supervillains. We only tolerate heroes but still hate their guts.”

It got a snort out of the girl. Pamela smiled as she began browsing through the options.

“Um..Mdm. Isley,” a shy voice called out.

“You can call me Pam.”

“Oh. Pam, can you tell me who the other heroes are? I only know about Batman.”

Pamela replied, “First off, they prefer to be called vigilantes. Most of Gotham just refer to any one of them as the Bats. Second, I can’t tell you exactly how many there are because there has been a lot of name changing and Batman has like a new sidekick every other month. This is the basics. In the beginning, Batman had one and he was named Robin. Then they were joined by Batgirl. Robin grew up and flew out of the nest and created a new identity which is Nightwing. He now mostly stays in Bludhaven and comes back to visit Gotham once in a while. Then, Batman got another Robin which we call Robin #2. Unfortunately, Robin #2 died because of the Joker…”

Pamela continued to spill tea about the Bat family drama. Harley returned with the popcorn and added details which Pamela missed. The girl was more invested about the stories of the Gotham vigilantes than whatever movie was serving as white noise.

“Okay, okay. So there is Batman,” The girl held up one finger, “Nightwing who is the first sidekick.” She added another finger, “There was a second one who died. We are on the third one right now but there was a fourth one while the third was gone for a while and came back. The fourth one is a girl Robin who used to and also currently goes by Spoiler. Batgirl also got replaced by a scarier version. And there is a Batwoman. Who is also not the old Batgirl?”

“You got them all more or less.”

The girl turned her attention to the movie while Harley and Pamela’s commentary of it was a nice background noise as she organised her thoughts. She didn’t really pay attention to what they were talking about as her mind drifted.

Chances are if she kept spending more time around Harley and Pamela, she was going to run into the Bats at one point and they would not see her as someone on the side of ‘good’. But was that even a bad thing?

The painful truth was that the girl was tired of defending herself. Back when everyone called her the ‘Everyday Ladybug’, it was exhausting. Sure she was nice and kind but that was just what the class needed to drop everything onto her. She was happy to do stuff for her ‘friends’ or did she just do it because the adults told her to?

She tried to be the bigger person and stand on the moral high ground when it comes to Chloe. That only gave her the worst time in school. She followed all the rules and did her best to help the people around her. And all of that didn’t even matter.

Her status as the ‘Everyday Ladybug’ went down the moment Lila whispered a few sweet lies into their ears with what she now knew was thanks to magic that they believed her.

What would even be the point of trying to show that she was a good person to someone who won’t even listen? 

Well, fine if the Universe wanted her to be the bad guy. She would play the part with all she had. Her new name should properly reflect that.

Someone who breaks all the rules. Someone who defies the people in charge. A Rebel.

“Harley, Pam.” The two looked at her with curiosity.

“I got my name,” she announced.

Harley jumped up and clapped her hands in excitement, “That’s fantastic, sugar. So what is it? Oh, is it Raven? But I think that is already taken by a demon chick. How about Night-crawler?”

“Harley, calm down. Give the girl some time to tell us.” Pamela chided her girlfriend.

“Sorry.” Harley sat back down but visibly shaking with anticipation.

“I was thinking of going by Rebel.”

“That is so badass. Why that though? Any particular reasons you can share with us, Rebel.”

Rebel smiled, “I guess if I am going to do this Rouge thing. I am going to do this right. Breaking all the rules cause they are only habits. Plus I can be the Joker’s rebellious teenage daughter. I am not going to be going around Gotham dressed as a clown. No offence Harley.”

Harley cackled, “I don’t mind. I love it.”

“Do you guys have a sketchbook lying around?” Rebel sheepishly asked, “Because I got some great costume ideas I want to sketch out.”

“You can draw?” Pamela inquired while Harley went around to fulfil Rebel’s request.

Rebel replied, “Only clothes. I can do decent art if I try. Fashion is still my passion. It’s one of things from my old life that I don’t hate completely.”

“Sorry, Reb.” Harley came back with a red leather jacket and a domino mask, “No wait. That sounds too close to Red.” She shrugged, “I will think of something. But we don’t have any sketchbooks in the house or paper. Or pencils.”

“It’s fine. What’s with that?” Rebel asked, pointing her chin at the items in Harley’s arms.

“Oh, this.” Harley held up the jacket and tossed it towards her, “This is for your first official debut. I think you are about my size. With the bats focused on Calendar Man, they won’t be paying attention to some stationary store theft. A bit lacklustre for a crime. But baby steps.”

Rebel stared at the mask and jacket. Was she actually going to do this? Step out of the light and go into the dark side.

Pamela noticed her hesitation, “You don’t have to do this. You can back out if you are not ready.”

Rebel shook her head and put the jacket on, “Let’s do this.”

“Atta girl.” Harley then looked over Rebel’s clothes which were the standard Arkham-issued orange jumpsuits, “How about we change clothes first. yeah?”

Rebel looked over herself, “I think that’s a great idea.”

A few hours later, Harley and Poison Ivy were seen robbing the shopping district with a new partner with the name of Rebel.

------

(Part 3)

-----

taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo, @iloontjeboontje, @buginetye, @angelwreckedd, @anoires-blog, @ever-since-i-was-young, @shutupandactuallylisten, @its-maemain, @vel-vee, @kashlyn, @officiallydarkgeek, @jayjayspixiepop, @cmouse, @transheso, @thecrazyfantrolls

[glitchedmagic]

i think the ao3 fic title trend of

lyric from a song (second part of the same lyric)

has fundamentally altered the way i listen to music. sometimes my brain hears a pair of lines and starts backwards-constructing an imaginary fic that would use that title

[tennessoui]

I adore the TA AU, but I feel like it needs a few more snippets before it could go on Ao3 and feel like a proper fic (not b/c of word count, but because it feels like there are a few key emotional moments missing). (What there is is so good!)

i guess that's the question though, like. a lot of my ficlets i have are just that--ficlets, meant to either lead into another ficlet eventually or lead into answering asks about the ficlet where i then talk more about the au and it gets all fleshed out.

is posting just a ficlet enough on ao3 or is it dishonest to what the au is on tumblr?

i think the ta au is a good example of that, where there are multiple ficlets but it may not feel complete in ficlet form because part of the au is the short ask answers and tags and head canon reblogs that can't be translated over easily to ao3 because it was born on tumblr and it's by it's nature a tumblr au

another example i think would be the princess diaries au where there are 2-3 really good ficlets i like a lot that i think people would like to read but they are by no means close-ended and they're written to leave the concept open to embellishment later on

so when it comes to aus like those, do i wait, do i try to write more, do i keep them solely on tumblr....and when it comes to aus that are JUST one ficlet but left-open ended, does that get to go on ao3?? do i wait?? do i try to write more?? at that point, is that no longer a copy-paste over project and an active effort to translate from tumblr norms to ao3 ones?