#she's the man ao3

[ein-keiser]

She's the man - 2006

I'm surely not the only one remembering that movie, but seriously i think it calls for some ao3 re-write or in general more fics ending as the MC realising she is in fact Bi and ends as WLW love or the MC realising "Shit maybe i'm not a women?" like it's a perfect thing for wlw[bi] but also Trans representation!

And for everyone who does not remember here:

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[fanaticloser]

I need a tag that says “Fake dating but one of them thinks it’s real and the one who knows it’s fake actually falls for them and there’s angst but they end up together in the end”

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade: I used to categorise the events of my life as "my life before everything went to shit" and "my dreadful existence after everything went to shit".

Wade: Now it's "my dreadful existence before I met Logan" and "my colorful life I enjoy living after meeting Logan". He's my entire world.

Laura: So, you are the world saving type. You saved him.

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian, in his Robin suit, answered his phone while speaking with Commissioner Gordon.

Damian (confused): Yes, unknown caller?

Talia (cheerful): Mommy is visiting! It's Talia, by the way.

Damian (blushing): No… No, turn back around. Go back to the palace!

Batman (sharing the same frustration): Please tell me she isn't close by.

Damian (nervous): Mo- Talia, when you say "visiting," you mean you're arriving in town, but not close by?

Talia (with a chipper tone): Well…

Suddenly, a grappling hook landed on the precinct, and Talia climbed up effortlessly. Batman and Robin didn't notice, but Gordon did.

Gordon: She's right behind you guys.

The father-son duo turned around and groaned as Talia clapped her hands, excited to see Damian in his Robin uniform.

Talia: Tifl! Give your mother a hug!

Damian: No!

Damian ended the call and tried to run away, but he wasn't quick enough to escape from the roof to safety. Talia tackled him to the ground and hugged him while spinning around.

Damian (mortified): Mother! No! Let me go!

Talia: My baby! My baby! I've missed you, my baby!

Damian (shouting): Why can't you be emotionless like Grandpa?!

Gordon (amused): Tifl… Mother… Bruce, you had a child with Talia?

Batman: I don't like to talk about it. And can you not use my government name right now?

Gordon: Come on, we're friends. I figured out your identity years ago.

Batman: Don’t remind me. Give me a minute; I have to pry my baby mama away from my child.

Batman walked over to break up the smothering hug that Talia was giving Damian while Gordon watched, chuckling.

Gordon: Good for him – I'll wait over here.

Damian (squirming): Mother, I can't breathe!

Talia (while giving her son kisses): Shush, let me love you!

Batman: Talia, you are embarrassing us!

Talia promptly kicked Batman in the stomach sending him back as she kept hugging her son who could only groan as he kept smelling his mother's perfume.

[erinwantstowrite]

i got a couple comments/asks about this so im just making a post teehee:

peter is an unreliable narrator

not that we can't trust him for most of what he's saying, but there are a few things that we can not trust. one being his perspective that tony doesn't see him as a son (which is the most obvious) but another being that gotham hasn't noticed spider-man or peter parker. jason's pov when meeting benny and maps (and co) was indeed a glimpse into what we didn't see in peter's pov. it's not that he doesn't care about these instances, but he has so much going on that he has zeroed in on what we actually saw. what was a seemingly insignificant moment for peter, so insignificant that he didn't mention it, was a very impactful moment for maps. he made a small difference in his neighborhood without even realizing. there's also the fact that peter doesnt want to get attached, and that's another reason he has distanced himself emotionally from these actions. there is a POV later from maps that might shine some light on this + a scene where we see some familiar faces. and there's also a scene in Ned's POV later that highlights New York missing spider-man. Peter also isn't aware of just HOW large that portion is. when he thinks about home, he thinks about the Avengers and then the people he knows personally. but the city does miss him

[drbtinglecannon]

Anyone else here think about Laios/Shuro/Kabru or is it just me

[thefabulousfab-3]

It’s crazy how all the hatred for Colin can be boiled down to, “he’s not toxic enough”.

[pokemon-radical-red]

I hate it when I headcanon a character who’s canonically a girl as a trans man and make ships of him and a character who’s canonically a guy and I refer to it as a gay/mlm/guyxguy/whatever ship and someone gets mad. Like omg let trans people have FUNNNNN. Why are queer headcanons and genderbends cool until they’re saying that the character is trans???

“OMGGG you’re so misogynistic I can’t believe you would erase FEMALE representation!!!”

and like half of the characters in the franchise are women, and a total of… NONE of the characters are trans men. Also, my headcanon doesn’t change the source material. If my stuff upsets you, you can block me and go engage with the source or maybe every single other fanwork, since mine is the only trans man hc for this character that I’ve ever seen.

or when people are like “WTF??? this is so transphobic!!! how dare you imply that a character who looks like that could be a trans man?!?! do you think that trans men are women or something??? she uses she/her, and you’re misgendering her!”

No, I don’t think that being a trans man makes you a woman or vice versa. That’s why it’s a headcanon, and the headcanon is that this character is actually a trans man and not a woman at all! You’ll never guess what pronouns most trans men had to use at some point in their lives, and you really won’t like it when you find out about pre-(or no-)transition trans men… or trans men who are in the closet… or trans men who don’t know that they’re trans yet.

“But the character is a kid!!! Saying they’re trans is sexualizing them.”

I’ve seen this one from other queer people. Like did you miss when all of the homophobes said this about your identity, or do you think that bigotry is only bad when it’s directed at you?

“Why would you say ‘testosterone could fix her’??? Are you trying to call her a delusional woman?”

Why would your brain even go to that first? This literally has to be a bad faith reading, because there’s no way that someone could see what I said and get this unless they were specifically looking for something to be mad at me for.

(Note for anyone unaware: “Estrogen would’ve fixed him!” was a meme going around at the time I said this. I’m not sure if it’s still super big, but this was a joke to the effect of that.)

“So girls can’t be tomboys anymore? You just wanna trans everyone?”

This is like actual real life transphobic rhetoric. This isn’t even just shitting on my headcanon, but in fact, sending transphobic hate to a trans man. Thanks 👍. Maybe you should go send JK Rowling another message about how much you loved her essay instead of bothering me.

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[mintypsii]

follow up to this comic aaghhh i love them sm

[just-puddding]

Here is a meme for a fic that only exists in half put together drafts and my head

He bit some kid at the playground <3

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

I was talking with a friend about the canon named women of Les Mis and decided to experiment to see who those are according to Les Mis fanworks.

Behold: your top ten women of Les Mis.

[girlishwhimsies]

just saw an ai fanfiction post on instagram. just how. like man. i haven’t seen it in this fandom but it so crazy. this story is so full of characters who are so messy and complex and beautiful and was written with so much love and is performed with so much intention and fun. how do you know all this and choose to use something as soulless and evil as chatgpt. there’s no use for it

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Our Benefactors: Entanglement

After failing to meet the expectations of her employers, G-man receives an unexpected visit from them.

Word count: 2173

Notes: In a way, this is practice for writing Gman dialogue, but also I was inspired to write more for this au in general. I'm pretty proud of it so I hope you guys like it-

The droning sounds of the machinery outside of the cell was near maddening, with the monotonous and repetitive groans of the Vault’s interior drilling themselves into her skull. The loud shots of neon-green electricity that struck the outermost layer of the Vault’s prison rang out like gunshots, though the prisoner inside did not once flinch to the sounds, no matter how abrupt they appeared to be. The sounds simply became nothing but background noise to her own head, tuning out the Combine’s magnum-opus in favor of her own thoughts. Where she stood, within one of the few rooms that were trapped in the cell along with her, she simply stared towards the window before her, not necessarily through it, but rather looking inwards. She observed her own reflection, seeing the face she had chosen many years before that moment, along with the snow-white sweater she wore; chosen in favor of the suit she was given.

The occasional tapping of her dress shoe clad foot and her quiet humming were all she chose to hear among the sounds around her; remaining in her own isolation, waiting for her to sense the presence of her next business interest. Although her patience was to be admired, considering the lack of importance time holds in her line of work, she couldn’t help but notice a hollow feeling inside, along with a fog of the mind she had not encountered before. Nevertheless, she waited, standing in the middle of the room she inhabited, with nothing but herself to keep company. Until, that is, she noticed a familiar presence make itself known within her mind.

As if it was nothing more than a slight tug on her subconscious, it lingered, causing her to let out a soft sigh; Despite it not being the presence she had hoped for, it was one she had no choice but to listen to regardless. She leaned over, gently grasping the handle of the black leather briefcase that was resting beside her leg before standing up straight, adjusting the collar of her sweater and checking to make sure her earrings were in place. She closed her eyes, listening as the groans of metal machinery slowly faded into oblivion, all before she spoke; a stifled, gritty voice that came from her throat.

“You have arrived…earlier than I anticipated.”

When her eyelids flipped open, she found herself within an inky-black void rather than the shattered remains of the apartment room she was in only seconds earlier. Fragments of light flew by, always out of reach, yet seeming so close. She stared forward into the darkness, not seeing anyone, or anything, but as if in a sixth sense, she could feel non-existent eyes staring back at her. The flickered lights in front of her began to wane, being obscured by a formless mass, looking similar to a column of smoke. She waited for an answer to her observation, and after a few moments, one returned. The presence spoke in countless voices, dissonant and indecipherable; however, she understood each and every word spoken to her.

“You are still trapped within those walls.”

“Walls mean…nothing, in this work,” The Convict said in response, “I feel…confident, that things will…sort out, as soon as the…well…replacement, arrives.”

“You seem so sure that your investment will pay off.”

“Have I not told you that…things are under my control?” She questioned.

“We do not believe that they are,” The Employers echoed back, with an air of contempt that did not go over Her head, “That is why we have decided to speak to you today.”

She simply raised an eyebrow slightly as her Employers continued.

“So far, we have not been given a reason to believe your planning will result in anything beneficial for the Organization.”

“Things are, admittedly, going poorly. Something this…unprecedented, will absolutely result in some more…haphazard planning, on my end,” The Convict explained as she stared towards the black void in front of her. “However, I have already made my investments very clear in how they will have good returns. Especially in the…coming days, hm?”

“The investments you feel so confidently about are the very same as the investments that have led to your own entrapment,” The sound of the Employers hivemind were grating on her ears, as if they wanted every word to hurt, “If you had followed the directions your Employers had provided for you, none of these unpredicted events would have happened.”

“Now, I understand that this was a…major change in the state of this timeline that had…somehow, gone under our radar until it was already irreversible,” The woman’s eyes reflected a pale blue hue, the flicker of their light only barely showing her growing irritation, “However, I am sure you are aware that I have located a more suitable…replacement…for Mister Freeman.”

“So far, Alyx Vance has failed to prove her worth despite your propositions,” The Employers’ response made a near sour expression appear on Her face, “We have been given no reason to believe she ever will.”

“She will become of use when the time is right for her,” The Convict stood up straighter, unknowingly tightening her grasp on her suitcase as her unused hand gestured with every statement she made, “When that will occur is…unknown. However, I have already foreseen her arrival, along with her agreement to the…deal.”

“You admit to being clueless to when your own plan will come to fruition.”

“You can see it as well, I presume,” She said, “So, I must inquire, why do you assume what I am doing is…incorrect?”

“You fail to understand the simple facts of your situation,” Despite having no eyes she could see, it felt as though they were staring straight through her disguise and into the very essence of her being, “You are trapped. You had chosen to be imprisoned by your opposition–”

“In order to lead Miss Vance to her goals,” Her inflection soured, and her words cut off the statement her Employers were making, “I have already created a plan that will…lead us, to the goals that we had decided on since…even before Mister Freeman had started working with us. It only requires more time–” “Alyx Vance has no desire to heed your call.”

The statement felt targeted in a way She couldn’t identify.

“You depend too much on Alyx Vance to rescue you from the shackles you had put yourself in,” The Employers continued, “You fail to consider human error in your calculations. You are waiting for nothing.”

“She will have to,” The Prisoner responded, her eyes glowing and her tone lowered, “If she wishes to succeed in her desire to…remove the grasp of the empire on her species, she will have to–”

“How long has it been since you have been placed within your cell?”

The Convict hesitated, looking away for a single second before answering, “Two months. Give or take.”

“If she has not arrived within that span of time, what makes you believe she wishes to arrive in the future?” The Employers questioned, their presence feeling more overbearing in Her mind than they have before, “You mean nothing to her. To humanity, you do not even exist. To the Combine, you are nothing but a liability. To the Organization, you are nothing but an embarrassment.”

The Convict remained quiet despite her slightly open mouth, wishing to say something, though the fog in her mind rendered her incapable of forming the words. After a few moments however, the fog cleared just enough to let her speak.

“Embarrassment?” She questioned, “I have given so much to this cause; I had even started the chain of reactions necessary for our goals. The incident at Black Mesa was…my idea, yet you call me an embarrassment?”

“You have failed to foresee and thereby prevent the occurrence of Gordon Freeman being hijacked by the opposition,” The Employers voices lowered, “Due to this, he is incapable of completing the tasks laid before him. Currently, his work remains only half finished, with what was done being unraveled as we speak.”

The Convict’s confusion over why she was incapable of thinking of a response was interrupted by the Employer’s speaking yet again.

“Due to your neglect, irresponsibility, and recklessness in regards to your own actions,” The employers stated in unison, “We have made the decision to relieve you of your duty. Effective immediately.”

The words were as impactful as a stake through her false skin. She stared into the formless mass before her, face molded into a look of confusion and disbelief before the words finally pushed past her throat and out her lips; “You…you can’t be serious about this; I still have so much I need to do to possibly–”

“Please forfeit the briefcase provided to you, along with any and all privileges given by the Organization.” 

She looked down at her briefcase, staring at it for a moment as her grasp on it tightened. “This is unacceptable.” She stated, her voice quiet yet furious. “Your actions were unacceptable,” The employers continued to stare at the small entity before them, “Consequences such as the ones you had inadvertently caused will not go unpunished. Due to your ignorance, recklessness, and inability to perform your duties, you, along with the timeline you were chosen to look over, will be deemed ‘unimportant’, and will no longer be a priority to the Organization.”

Before she could respond, she felt an invisible force tug on her briefcase, yanking it out of her hand and causing it to fall to the ground, dragged into the darkness until it was out of sight.

“You have been relieved of your duties,” The Employers stated, “We will not use any form of intervention on your behalf. You will now remain in the cell you had trapped yourself in until you witness the death of this universe.”

The convict stepped forward, hands shaking and expression furious. “I have a plan; One that will revert the timeline back to its previous…more desirable state.” She raised her voice, speech stifled despite how hard she was trying to get the message across, as if her own mind was preventing her from making her case, “You refuse to even give me a chance to rectify the issues we–?”

“We have provided the benefit of the doubt to you and your investments multiple times in the past,” The Employers spoke back, their voice loud in her mind, “We have come to the  conclusion that you are not worth the liability and disappointment. We apologize for what may seem to you, an inconvenience. However it is what is best for the future of our Organization. Goodbye. We do not plan to speak with you in the future.”

“What…?” As she stood in shock, she felt herself being pulled back, all while a rectangular doorway appeared behind her, its white light reflecting off of her back. She reached forward with one arm, as if she could still reach her employers, all while she felt invisible arms grasping her limbs, stronger than she was, dragging her towards the doorway. “You can’t leave me here; don’t leave me alone here!  You can’t DO this I–DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!”

Before she could even process the change in environment, she looked around, the sound of the Vault’s machinery once again flooding her mind as she found herself back within the cell’s broken and warped walls. She remained still, stuck in a sense of shock before she slowly lowered her arm back to her side. Her wide eyes stared at the floor in front of her feet,all while she felt a dull pain inside her head that she had never experienced before. Pain itself was alien to her, yet now it felt as though a part of her own subconscious was forcefully removed. A hollow emptiness had settled within her consciousness, as if a large portion of herself had simply vanished.  It was silent; not outside her mind, but rather within it. The voices of her Employers were nowhere to be heard. For what felt like the first time in her existence, she was alone in her own head. 

Underneath the fury she felt towards her abandonment, a new, unfamiliar feeling arose within herself, locating itself within her chest cavity. She felt weak, locating a nearby armchair before stumbling towards it, sitting upon it with a blank look in her eyes. She stared forward, supporting her head with one of her trembling hands as she thought to herself, though no meaningful thoughts came from the scrambled mess that was her own mind. 

She was alone, though it didn’t feel comforting. The Isolation was beginning to weigh heavier than she had anticipated it would. She couldn’t stay there; she refused to be a prisoner of the Combine forever. However, her employers were right; She truly had no idea when, or if, she would be rescued. Patience meant nothing anymore, because now, she had to sit through the time she had often glossed over in the past.

She was a god ensnared within the belly of the beast.

[dootznbootz]

Since my OdyPen are likeminded in personality/views/behavior in many many ways, those "Ship meme questions" are pretty interesting for me.

Because yeah. Likeminded. Many of those questions have the same answer from both.

And in a way that's super fun for me because everything I write with my goobers, I always try to keep in mind that, at least in behavioral/personality, they would both react/behave the same.

Like, I know I focus a shitton on Penelope as I adore her and love exploring her character so so much but understand that Odysseus would do the exact same shit. Just as Odysseus in my one fic is taking care of her as she is sick from her own recklessness, she would (and will. Different circumstances but you know) do the same for him.

It's actually super fun (as much as it is frustrating too. I'll realize partway through an idea that it's actually OOC and that I got too excited lol) to keep in mind while writing/creating. It keeps me on track :3