#Happy Pride from Black Mesa

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Fuck it, you guys are getting my Half Life pride headcanons

Gordon Freeman: Demiromanic and ace, He/him

Barney Calhoun: Bisexual but can't ever get in a proper relationship, he/him

Dr. Kleiner: Unlabeled. I have no idea what he is, he feels like cis and trans, and gay and straight at the same time. He/him I guess

Adrian Shepherd: Straight, ace. He/it

Gina Cross: Lesbian, she/her

Colette Green: Same as Gina. Neither of them feel like they like men to me

Eli Vance: Cishet, He/him

Alyx Vance: Cupio and pan, she/they

Gman: Gman (any pronouns)

[leafnighthybridwolfsbane]

Sandwing Headcanons

I had fun drawing this one! I nearly forgot one of the back legs, so that was interesting. I kinda based this one on red sand and the mesa/badlands. This one is a bit more simplified than the others, but honestly it was a nice break from doing more detailed designs.

Tribe Headcanons

The black sclera and cheetah-like marking helps them see through the blazing haze the sun creates on the sand. Especially sand that is nearly white.

The tufts of fur on their ears helps keep flies and other insects away from their ears.

Sometimes a Sandwing will grow a beard and resemble a Bearded Vulture, though this is extremely rare in the tribe. Maybe 1 in every 10,000 of them get the genes to be able to grow one.

Some Sandwings are also born with retractable fangs like a venomous snake's.

The bearded plates on their necks can puff out as an intimidation tactic.

They also can cry blood as a way to scare off oncoming dragons that might try to kill them if nothing else works.

Their scales match the palette of the sands that they hatched in. This means different natural sand colors can influence the color of a Sandwing's scales. It is near impossible to have them hatch the color of dyed sand. When it does happen, they are considered defective.

Sandwings are the third largest tribe in general, beaten by a a few hairs by the Nightwings.

Their wings are made for long distance travel, making staying in the air for long periods like a walk in the park. They are only beat by Skywings when it comes to flight time between landings.

The top of their wings are colored the same as the sand they hatched in. The bottom coloration of their wings matches their lighter colored underbellies.

Sandwings have the easiest time getting freckled scales due to their length of time in the sun.

Sandwings tend to show emotion though music, dance, and their festivals. Most dragonets are even pushed to learn something to help with one of those three things instead of actually feeling out their emotions.

Sandwings are considered the best ambush predators out of all of the tribes due to their tails and lack of outward showing emotions. A lot of assassin groups either are lead of Sandwings, made up of mostly sandwings, or are purely made of sandwings.

Most tribes mistake them for being an angry tribe. They're not. They're a vengeful and ambitious tribe. If a perfectionist could be put into a single tribe, it would be the Sandwings. They hold their pride high, but not on a faulty pedestal.

Their patience is unmatched, even by a Nightwing's standards. Having them angry at another dragon is silent, but it oozes into the atmosphere is a scarily silent way.

On a lighter note, Sandwing scales are warm to the touch, like a heated rock on a mid-summer's day. They're unfazed by the chill of an icewing's scales.

On that note, fire scales were once such a common ability in Sandwings that Sandwings used to be their nickname. They used to be called Sunwings.

Their spine sail is to help them regulate their internal body heat.

Lore Headcanons

One of their greatest exports in the past was their assassination services. The Scorpions Den used to be this mystical den of assassins before it became a place for what most of the tribe would consider "Undesirables".

Festivals dedicated to the longest day of the year are full of joy and laughter. Their hard, almost completely unreadable, outward expressions melt into this calm and most of the time happy celebration.

It took several centuries for Sandwings to show the array of emotions they do now. Some say that it was because a cowardly queen had used her subjects in a manipulative way that broke the tribe of feeling anything. Others say it was almost like an animus curse. No one really knows.

Survival is their main priority due to them having this sixth sense of having a strong gut instinct about what another dragon will do. Though they are getting better with trusting other dragons under the current queen's guidance.

Current exports include tanned hides and poisons. With their aloof nature, business is done upfront. They take trades and deals seriously, so backing out with enough time or a good excuse means you aren't cut off. They tend to talk to other Sandwing traders, meaning a dragon will not be able to scam others, or waste their time. Scammers are killed on sight. There are no questions asked.

Betrayal upon one is betrayal of all. Sandwings, no matter their position in life, will back one another unless they have done something egregious. Family units are commonly not broken, but in recent years it's not unknown of.

Keeping a singular bone of one family member, be it blood or not, is considered a sacred thing to the individual Sandwing. It means that dragon was extremely important to them. It is sacrilege to take or destroy it. This is the highest form of disrespect and other Sandwings will plot the dragon's death if that Sandwing doesn't kill the dragon.

Sandwings take marriage seriously before the ceremony, but all marriages are considered another festival that has been known to last weeks. A honeymoon isn't necessary due to the weeks long festivities. This is the longest another dragon will see a Sandwing be open about their emotions.

Drawing Inspirations

Their bodies resemble an American Short Hair. These cats give the best build that would be similar to a Sandwing.

Sandwings having primarily desert reptile patterns would be the best, but other desert/savanna/badlands animals would work as well.

The behaviors resemble a more strict regimen household where showing emotions would cause the inhabitants to be severely reprimanded.

Bearded dragons/toads are great for references for the expansion of the neck plates expanding.

Wings of Fire Headcanon List

Skywings

Icewings

Mudwings

Leafwings

Hivewings

Silkwings

[optimistic-smiler]

Yo but like Tommy growing up around Black Mesa most of his life and learning from the scientist and books that are there. He gets really excited one day ( he's like 15 or so now) and announces that he's going to work there when he gets older only to get laughed at by the scientists around him.

" What? Absolutely not!"

" We're not a daycare Thomas! Actually that's probably a better suited job for someone of your.... intellect."

" Maybe work on your GPA before spewing such nonsense! I bet he won't get a single degree at this rate..."

" I don't know guys. Ma-Ma-Maybe Daddy will give him a helping hand...."

And of course this really upsets Tommy. Because he's smart! He knows he is! He knows this facility like the back of his hand and how procedures and experiments work! Some of these scientists even come to him when they need help!

Do a few things get passed him? Yes! But hey that's what studying is for!

" prove em wrong..." Tommy looks up from his homework to see Benrey staring at him, game tossed aside, " I know youre smart. you know your smart. prove em wrong....get a million more degrees then those old geezers. 100 percent perfect run man."

" You're....You're right! I am- I'm going to prove them wrong! I am gonna work at Black Mesa by passing that exam with flying colors! I am a scientist!"

" heellll yeeeeah! goooo Tommy woohoo!"

And so he begins studying hard with the help of Benrey ( moral support and what not).

He refuses his dad's help to get him into a higher up school even though he's already in one. He was going to do this on his own! He was going to prove he was just as worthy of work at Black Mesa as these mean scientists without his dad's help. Which Gman respects. If his son needs him he'll be there.

With all his hard work he's able to get into a prestige college at a young age. He spends a good portion on his youth working his way up from there. Benrey is there with him through it all, encouraging him every step through thick and thin.

When graduation comes around he has top honours in all of his courses. He's walking across the stage with pride head held up high. He could hear Benrey hollering in the crowd. He knows they are recording. He takes his degrees and turns towards the crowd. He's never seen his dad so proud....

The next week he's pacing around his living room staring at a package sent from Black Mesa. Benrey is watching his from their spot of the couch messing with their new security helmet ( they passed the exam with flying colors and said they were Tommy's own personal guard now)

" open it bro....I'm like....dying of anticipation." He rolls his eyes before carefully taking the package. This is it....years and years of working his ass off has brought him to this moment.

He opens the package and pulls out the paper inside, " ahem....Dear Thomas D. Coolatta. After reviewing your resume we are...please to announce that you have been accept for employment at Bl...Black Mesa. We are happy to have such a bright mind in our facility..."

Oh...there are tears in his eyes. Benrey is right by his side staring down at the paper. " holy shit...bro you did it."

They jump when Tommy practically squeals jumping up and down waving his hands. He scoops Benrey up in his arms and spins them around, " I did it!! I...I'm happier then a frog in water on a hot day!" He laughs holding Benrey close," Thank you....for being there for me..."

They smile and return the hug, " no prob man always knew you could do it. now...let's go rub this shit in old people faces!!"

You bet they decorate his office with all his degrees and acceptance letter. Tommy worked hard to get where he is! I'm sure he is probably one of the smartest, if not the smartest, scientist in Black Mesa!

[purplecatghostposts]

Jumbled AU Character Information Time!

What’s the Jumbled AU? Another Roleswap except it’s less swap between two characters and more... Jumbled! Created for fun of course!

I ended up tweaking it all up a bit and I’m pretty happy with it now!

Meet The Crew:

FORZEN-

“No, I’m right there with you. Black Mesa is the worst.”

- Takes Gordon’s role as Team Leader

- Graduated from MIT and was recently hired by Black Mesa. He’s been there less than a year and he’s already regretting it.

- Gets stuck in a HEV Suit and would very much like out of it, thank you very much.

- Originally wanted time be a streamer but his mother talked him into going into Science like everyone else in the family did. Forzen and his family have a rocky relationship and this is one of the reasons why.

- Hates his job and is miserable but he does it anyways because he’s good at it and it makes him money.

- A lot smarter than he looks or acts.

- Very protective over his team and is quite the shot. Prides himself a little on his good aim.

- Carries around a ‘Lucky Bayblade’ wherever he goes. Insists it’s kept him safe as a kid and as long as he has it, he will make it through alright.

- Is a single father as his partner left as soon as the kid was born. Forzen is determined to be a good father because of this. His kid’s full name is Scythe Kronos (Yes, that’s all their first name) but Forzen also calls them Scye for short. Forzen will do anything to make it back to his kid. He doesn’t want them to end up orphaned.

- Loses his right eye in the betrayal. Without his depth perception, his aim is worse than ever and he struggles to protect his team.

- Gets a robotic eye from the Cybernetics Department later that gives him better aim than before.

TOMMY-

“Get- get out of my way or I’ll make you.”

- Takes the place of Benrey as inhuman antagonist.

- Is a Shapeshifting alien who takes the shape of a human to blend in for his mission. Has a lot of power but never got to properly learn how to use it as he was separated from his father when he was young.

- Sunkist is his alien pet who takes the shape of a golden retriever to do the same. She fights alongside him.

- Initially takes on Earthly Interests such as Beyblades, soda, and certain TV shows as a way to blend in but actually starts to like them.

- Takes on a job at Black Mesa as a security guard so that he can search for his dad. Doesn’t actually find him until the Resonance Cascade.

- Tampers with the experiment and causes the Resonance Cascade in order to lower Black Mesa’s defenses so he and his dad can make their escape.

- Makes a deal with the military that if he sells Forzen out, they’ll leave everyone else alone. However, the military double crosses Tommy once they realize that his dad is a valuable experiment to Black Mesa. Tommy is not happy about this.

- Eventually comes to the conclusion that his dad will never be safe as long as Black Mesa is around. Goes to Xen with the others, keeps his cover the entire time, and once they reach Xen’s power source, Tommy takes it for himself and tries to destroy Black Mesa and everyone in it.

- It’s all for family. Step aside or you’ll just get hurt.

GORDON-

“There’s absolutely no way that’s up to code... You guys seeing this?”

- Takes the place of Tommy as Main Support.

- Has worked for Black Mesa for a while now but isn’t entirely fond of it. He’s aware it’s morally gray at best (And that’s sugar coating it) but he can’t quit because he’s bound by contract to stay there for a certain amount of years. At least it pays well, right?

- Lost his arm in a lab accident a few years ago. Luckily, cybernetics fitted him with a robotic prosthetic. The one who made him the arm also outfitted him with a gun-arm he can put on. Gordon didn’t understand why he would need it but after the Resonance Cascade happened, he’s glad he has it.

- One hell of a shot, especially when he’s freaking out a bit (“Gordon going ham!” @ himself).

- Has been a bit obsessed with safety regulations since he lost his arm (But honestly who wouldn’t be?) and is constantly baffled by Black Mesa’s OSHA Violations.

- Has a son back home, Joshua, who he would very much like to make it back to. Forzen and Gordon swap telling stories about their kids sometimes.

- Helps Forzen out after he’s lost his eye and tells him that he can get help from Cybernetics given Gordon knows a guy from the department.

- Is pretty good friends with Tommy and while he does try to stop him from destroying Black Mesa- he hates the place too but there’s a lot of scientists there who are bound by contract just like he is- Tommy spares him from his attacks.

- Seems to be fairly good friends with the mysterious being who keeps popping up, Bubby. Apparently Gordon has helped hide him away more than a few times when he gets stuck so he owes him.

DARNOLD-

“Uh oh... That might be one of my evil clones...”

- Takes the role of Dr. Coomer as the enhanced scientist with clones.

- Has biological enhancements such as built in rocket boots and extendo arms but they were all given to him when Darnold tested his own potions. He mostly uses these to get the group out of trouble.

- In the same situation as Gordon when it comes to being bound by contract. Neither are very thrilled about it but at least Darnold has been in Black Mesa long enough that he can influence change.

- Head of the Mixology Department but took interest in Xen for a while and oversaw the experiment that caused the Resonance Cascade.

- Signed onto the cloning experiment and now has a lot of clones that help around Black Mesa. Darnold is pretty friendly with them and tries to help some escape when the Resonance Cascade. Unfortunately a lot of them die, which gets to Darnold.

- A few clones drank his Evil Powerade and went rogue a while ago. Fortunately, they’re version of ‘Evil’ is essentially a cartoon mad scientist/supervillain. Unfortunately, they’re still a bit of a nuisance and the gang has to look out for tripwire traps and a few of their minions.

- Carries around a lot of potions to help. Has a strength potion that is particularly helpful in a pinch. Also has a special Forbidden Potion that he uses in the final battle.

- One of the few people that treated G-Man like a person rather than an experiment and thus, has his favor.

- Introduces Tommy to Earthly things and customs. Doesn’t piece it together that he’s an alien until later.

- Tried to help in the betrayal but Tommy held him back, saying it was for the best. Runs as soon as he realizes he’s in danger and hides away from the rest of the team. Actively avoids Forzen and Gordon for a while out of stress but eventually has to step in when one of his Evil Clones captures them.

G-MAN-

“Oh believe me, I am just as... Eager to get out of Black Mesa as the rest of you.”

- Takes the role of Bubby as Black Mesa’s favorite experiment

- If Bubby is like Shadow the Hedgehog, then G-Man is like Mewtwo.

- Is an alien that has been alive much longer than Black Mesa itself. A powerful one at that.

- Black Mesa started hunting him down as soon as they learned of his existence. G-Man had just created Tommy not too long ago and was weak when they came. Managed to protect Tommy but was captured as a result and imprisioned in Black Mesa.

- Nicknamed Project Goodman as Black Mesa wished to one day use his powers for their own benefit. The nickname ‘G-Man’ came later and stuck.

- Has a lot of powers relating to the mind (I.E. Levitation, telekinesis, telepathy, etc.) but Black Mesa keeps power dampeners on him so he can’t escape, no matter how much he may try. G-Man and Tommy search for a way to get these off of him, but little do they know that Black Mesa has other ways of ensuring he can’t go rogue...

- Started acting polite and professional a while back and keeps up the facade as it keeps him out of trouble and gets him more freedom. He now works as a scientist to ‘Help’ Black Mesa but is just biding his time until he can make his escape.

- Absolutely despises being in his tube and tends to get aggressive when in small spaces because of this.

- Has very few scientists he actually likes. Darnold is on this short list as he is kind to him.

- Finally reunited with his son after so long and wants nothing more than to escape together.

- They were so close...

BENREY-

“Oh yo, what happened to your eye, dude? Psh, no worries, I got a cybernetic eye for ya that’s gonna look sick as fuck!”

- Takes the role of Darnold as the guy who has a solution to a certain missing body part.

- Is one of the best in the Cybernetics Department and was the one who made Gordon his arm and gun-arm when he lost it in the accident.

- Became weird friends with Gordon after he helped him out. Benrey may or may not send cryptic messages and cat photos at 4AM to Gordon, who is very concerned for his health.

- The Cybernetics Department was originally supposed to be laid off due to budget cuts and the Mixology Department was going to expand and take over the lab but Benrey refused to leave his lab like everyone else and hacked the doors so nobody could get in. They would’ve dealt with it but soon after, the Resonance Cascade happened and Black Mesa has bigger worries than a rogue cybernetics scientist so Benrey just kinda. Stayed. He’s the only remaining member of the Cybernetics Team.

- A good mechanic and a master hacker. He ends up hacking into the security cameras and the VOX to watch the team as they go. He speaks via the VOX- and never tells them who he is- but as soon as they reach his lab, Benrey greets them like old friends.

- While he does like to mess with the team a little, he’s pretty helpful for the most part. He opens up a few locked doors and gives a few heads up every once in a while.

- “ROCKET. LAUNCH. GOOD.” Yeah that was Benrey. Gordon actually hits himself once he realizes it’s Benrey because everything suddenly makes sense.

- Gives Forzen a cybernetic eye that actually gives him better aim than before. Said eye also “May or may not have other sick features.”

- Benrey refuses to elaborate on this.

COOMER-

“OH HO HO HO, BAD MOVE! TIME FOR ME TO GO IN FOR THE KILL!”

- Takes the role of Forzen as minor antagonist.

- Joined the military because of his Ex-Wife’s pressuring to do so. They’re both still in the military but they don’t talk anymore.

- Volunteered to test out a new serum that would genetically enhance him to be an one man army due to his love for Science. He didn’t expect for it to work like it did.

- The serum gave him superhuman abilities such as strength, high leaping power, endurance, regeneration, and other such. However, there was a side effect to the serum as it also gave him a bit of a bloodlust. “I crave violence” is very literal now.

- Very powerful but unfortunately a bit of a loose cannon. They only send him in if they’re getting desperate since he causes a lot of collateral damage.

- Can calm down and have regular conversations but it takes a lot of effort. The serum screwed with his head a lot.

- Is sent to take down the Science Team. 90% of the time, they have to run from him and shake him off their trail other than fight him as he’s a lot stronger than the rest of them.

- Kidnaps Gordon rather than Sunkist at one point and holds him hostage. The Science Team has to work together to take him back.

- Saved Bubby’s life once and now whenever Coomer gets into real danger, Bubby teleports him away. Bubby is one of the few people who can calm Coomer down for long periods of time and Coomer is very fond of Bubby.

BUBBY-

“Who I am is none of your goddamn business.”

- Takes the role of G-Man as a powerful being who keeps showing up.

- Originally was created by Black Mesa and worked for them but in an experiment gone horribly wrong, Bubby abruptly disappeared with no trace.

- The accident gave Bubby dimensional powers over Time and Space but unfortunately, Bubby struggles to figure them out and they’re rather unstable at first.

- Because of their instability, Bubby sometimes randomly will teleport and get stuck in places he doesn’t want to be in. This happens far too frequently in Black Mesa but luckily, Gordon knows him and starts hiding him from Black Mesa whenever he gets stuck.

- This also happened once when Bubby ended up in the middle of an active battlefield and nearly got killed had Coomer not saw him get teleported in and rescued him.

- Bubby has taken a certain fondness for both of them and watches over them from the shadows as his own way of saying ‘Thank You’.

- Black Mesa is vaguely aware that Bubby is still out there but he’s become a bit of a cryptid to them. There’s some security footage of him teleporting in but all security footage gets really staticy and stops working after he appears in it.

- Bubby absolutely despises Black Mesa.

- If he wants something changed, he will change it, by force if necessary.

- Starts watching the team closely after the Resonance Cascade. At first thinks that some of them are aligned with Black Mesa and actively tries to stop them until he figures out that they’ve all fallen victim to it as well and becomes somewhat of an ally.

Anddd that’s the team!

That took a LONG time to type out but hopefully it’s interesting! I’m having a lot of thoughts about this AU currently so if you’re curious at all, send me an ask and I can talk about it more!

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 23: The End

When the white light cleared, Tommy was in a starfield and his hands were empty. The burn wound on his shoulder was already healing over, the pain ebbing and melting away as scar tissue scrawled pale starbursts over his skin. His heart pounded as he cast his eyes around, meeting only streaks of multicolored light, galaxies and nebulas passing by like landmarks on a road trip.

His breath left him all in a rush as he realized where he was. His father had come to pick him up.

The man in the suit materialized as soon as the thought crossed his mind, clean and pressed as always, hair neat and black as cast iron. His shadowed eyes swirled like the stars around them as he regarded his son. They stood, facing one another in the void, standing on nothing. Tommy waited for his father to speak first.

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” the man in the suit said with a smile.

Tommy stared at him, robbed of words. Birthday? Today was his birthday? Slowly, he raised his hands to clutch at his hair, drawing in a thin, shaky breath so he wouldn’t fall apart completely. The dissonance of something so routine happening in the midst of this disaster made him want to scream.

Birthdays had always been mundane to him, another insignificant turn of the wheel. But after what he’d just survived, he wondered if it was something worth celebrating. He was indescribably tired.

Thirty seven. Thirty seven revolutions around the sun. It was the worst day of his life.

He didn’t know how to respond to his father, who had plucked him out of Xen for a chat after turning his back on him hours before. There was definitely not a ‘thank you’ on his lips, and his mind was clouded with all the ways he could accuse his father of abandoning him, none of them coherent or respectful. He eyed the other man wearily and finally settled on asking, “the others?”

“Alive and well, I assure you,” his father answered. “I must congratulate you on your success in dealing with this�� little issue.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he computed. “Success?”

“I certainly would not have been able to remedy the situation without the help of you and your associates.”

He laced his fingers behind his head and tilted his chin to the star-streaked void above him so he no longer had to look at his father. “You couldn’t have just taken care of this on your own?”

His father chuckled grimly. “Hardly. At least, not in a manner as quick and efficient as this one.”

Efficient? “Do you know how many people died?”

“I can say with confidence, Thomas, that far more would have died if the four of you had done nothing at all.”

Tommy dropped his arms from behind his head and instead pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, inhaling heavily through his nose. He didn’t answer, fighting for control of his facial expression while his father examined him. This man couldn’t possibly grasp the scope of what Tommy had just lived through, what the week’s events had done to him. He didn’t have that kind of perspective, being a god and all that; all that mattered was that his plan had worked.

Success. They had succeeded. Mission complete, crisis averted. He felt awful.

His father broke the silence evenly. “I took the liberty of upholding our little family tradition,” he went on. “The entire venue has been rented out, as usual, and I will be personally extending invitations to your new... hm. Friends.”

Tommy paused from kneading his eyeballs in consternation to give his father a puzzled look. “The scientists?” he asked. He could think of no one else.

The man in the suit eyed him with amusement. “Yes, the scientists,” he affirmed. “The experiments known as Bubby and Harold Coomer, as well as your ‘Mister Freeman.’”

“He’s not my-“

“I am well aware of the nature of your relationship,” his father spoke over him, “and I will be having a little chat with him before we convene at the entertainment center.” His eyes glittered not so much in threat as in curiosity.

This didn’t feel to Tommy like the appropriate course of action to take at all. He still recalled clearly on day two of this disaster, when Gordon had told him he planned on sleeping for five days after this was over. Sleep for five days and get a Big Mac. After everything the man had just survived, that was the bare fucking minimum of what he deserved, and Tommy had half a mind to drive Gordon to a McDonald’s himself.

“You can… probably just send him home, I think,” he intoned quietly. That was all Gordon wanted, this entire time. Everything he fought for, everything he endured. Home. Home. He just wanted to go home. Tommy’s stupid birthday could go on without him.

“I’m afraid Mister Freeman does not have a home to go to. Black Mesa, including his living quarters inside, was completely destroyed.” He lifted his brows in a way that didn’t quite line up with the tone he was attempting to convey. “He might as well have a little fun before he goes house hunting, hm?”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Some reward for saving the world. “Can you at least – I don’t know – do something about the hand?”

His father threaded his fingers together behind his back. “I can do something about the hand,” he said conclusively.

The galactic landscape passed on in silence. Tommy kept his gaze on the void beneath him, refusing to meet eyes with the man who was so clean and spotless while his son looked like a dead thing Sunkist had dragged in from the back porch. Exhaustion made his bones heavy and his posture downcast.

After a thoughtful pause, Tommy’s father went on. “I suppose you need some time to yourself. I trust you’ll be able to find your way... home, from here, yes?”

Distractedly, Tommy splayed his fingers, feeling the power that had abandoned him on Xen sizzling beneath the surface of his skin. His pulse ticked down to a more manageable pace and he nodded silently. His father was right once again.

“I shall take my leave, then,” he concluded. His visage began to fade as he leapt from the dimension. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Tommy raised his eyes just in time to watch his father disappear.

He didn’t have the energy to cry once he was gone, though he could feel from the prickle behind his eyes that he probably needed to. Proud. He was proud of him. What was that pride worth, at the death of so many innocent people? Tommy felt cold deep in his chest, and it wasn’t just from floating in the vacuum of space.

He missed Gordon already.

---

The Chuck E. Cheese location in Las Cruces, New Mexico, was a place Tommy Coolatta knew quite well. He expected the venue to bring warm familiarity with it after the past week’s events, but he wasn’t fully prepared for the heavy thump of nostalgia in his chest as he opened the door. The rows of tables, the multicolored lights, the arcade games, all called back to happier days he’d spent with his father here. Once he’d outgrown what was essentially a children’s casino, the two of them had kept up the birthday tradition as a little joke within the family. Besides, one was never really too old for a round or two of skee ball.

The venue was empty, save for the disinterested staff. Tommy ordered a cheese pizza, found himself a seat at one of the tables, and waited.

It was strange, being here. The music and the flickering lights would have made the experience feel otherworldly if Tommy hadn’t literally just been in another world. He felt remote and detached, like the past week’s events were his reality and the entertainment center he sat in was merely a fever dream. Tommy closed his eyes and took in the smell of pepperoni and grease and whatever cleaning product the staff used to wipe down the tables. Underneath it all the iron scent of blood still lingered on his skin. He desperately needed a shower.

Bubby and Coomer arrived after a while via portal, dropped unceremoniously from the ceiling in front of a staff that was perplexed but not paid enough to care. The older gentlemen looked just as haggard and warweary as Tommy felt, joining him at the table as soon as their eyes lit on him.

They helped themselves to the pizza he was working on. They didn’t talk. There was nothing to say.

Weirdest birthday ever.

Bubby eventually made an offhand comment that he had never been to a Chuck E. Cheese before. His tone of voice was neutral, but the pinch of his eyes betrayed his curiosity as he flicked his gaze between the arcade games.

“Never?” Tommy asked at length.

Bubby nodded. “I’ve never left the facility,” he admitted.

Dr. Coomer exchanged a surprised look with Tommy as music thumped in the background. After some thought, the scientist wiped his hands on his napkin and gave Bubby a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Chuck E. Cheese is an excellent example of what the outside world has to offer, Dr. Bubby,” he told him, smiling tiredly.

Tommy snorted into the slice of pizza he was eating. The remark was almost enough to lift his mood away from the pit of anxiety in his stomach. Maybe he really could call these gentlemen his friends. Or, at least, he might learn to do so in time.

Bubby and Coomer excused themselves to try their hand at the arcade games. Tommy remained seated, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, too antsy to partake. He checked his phone, only to find it waterlogged and dead. He tossed it onto the table in disgust. Who would he call, anyway? The one person he wanted to talk to wasn’t in his address book.

His father was taking too long. Why was he taking so long? What was there to discuss with a man who just put his life on the line to seal an alien rift? Tommy watched the remainder of the pizza grow cold on the table before him. He ached in every way there was to ache.

Just as he was beginning to debate leaving his seat for a couple nervous rounds of air hockey, space split open across the room and a portal appeared. Tommy froze, watching the air shimmer and warp as someone stepped out of it.

And there was Gordon Freeman, alive and exhausted, blinking in disorientation as he touched down onto solid earth.

Tommy ran to him, chair clattering to the floor in his haste.

Gordon’s eyes barely flickered in recognition before Tommy collided bodily with him, arms flung around his neck. The HEV suit dug hard and unyielding into his chest, a discomfort ignored in favor of the other man’s arms returning his embrace, warm and solid. A shaky exhale sounded in his ear and he felt tears spring unbidden to his eyes. He made it. This wonderful, insane survivor. He made it, and he was hugging Tommy so hard he thought his spine might snap.

The other man’s voice was broken up with relieved laughter. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday, man.”

Tommy wasn’t letting go of him just yet, staccatoing his response into Gordon’s neck. “Sorry, I was - I forgot.” The sound he made was a sob disguised as a laugh, or perhaps vice versa.

“It’s okay,” Gordon chuckled, and it sounded like he was fighting for control over his voice, too. “We were a little busy.”

Tommy’s shoulders shook with mirth, awash with joy and wonder as he clung to him. The lights and the music around them didn’t matter, nor did the stars or the hungry void beyond. They could figure out their new reality one fragile step at a time. As long as they could stand together, feeding each other with laughter, they could find their way.

---

The party didn’t end up being too bad, even if the timing was a little weird. For all the exasperation Tommy held with his father at present, it still meant a lot that a man who played time like it was a pickup basketball game still tracked how many times Tommy had orbited the sun. The Science Team played a couple arcade games, ate their first real meal in days, and took turns splashing their faces and cleaning the blood from under their fingernails in the bathroom sink. It was an interim recovery, a pit stop on the way to rejoining life.

By the time it was over, everyone felt a little more human. Human enough, at least, to step outside the liminal space they found themselves in and return to Earth. Far flung explorers, lost inside themselves. Off in search of home, whether that home was found or they built it with their own two hands.

Tommy stepped out to the parking lot, the asphalt washed white and stark in the floodlights. The cool night smelled like juniper and sagebrush. He waved goodbye to Bubby and Coomer, who decided to make their own way from here after bidding him final birthday wishes. His father had vanished a while ago to deal with some cosmic follow-up to the Xen issue. Thankfully, Tommy got a pass on that.

That left Gordon, who he found leaning against the side of the restaurant, staring vacantly out at the parking lot with his eyes half open. The jingle of a staff member’s key ring startled him out of his reverie, and he slid a look first to the manager locking up, then to Tommy’s quiet approach. He was smaller without the HEV suit on. Softer. It had been a group effort to prise the armor plating off of him and carry it to the dumpster out back, leaving him in just the black utility coveralls worn underneath.

Where once there was a shield was just a man. Gordon smiled wearily at Tommy as he leaned his shoulder against the faux sandstone next to him.

“Is someone coming to pick you up?” Tommy asked.

Gordon sighed, turning to stare back at the vacant parking lot. “No,” he said, his voice small. “I’m still kinda… I was just trying to - y’know - I was gonna figure something out,” he shrugged. “I guess.”

Tommy tilted his head to the side, studying him. “It looked to me like you were falling asleep,” he observed.

A short, humorless exhale escaped him. “I was doing a little bit of that too, yeah,” he admitted.

His glasses were still smudged to hell and splintered with cracks. Carefully, Tommy reached out to remove the frames from Gordon’s face, sliding them off as gently as he could. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose. He did his best not to jostle it.

Gordon cleared his throat, returning his gaze from the parking lot to watch him pass a hand over one lens and then the other. “Do you have a ride coming?” he asked.

In the process of literally bending physics to fix the man’s glasses, Tommy tried not to smirk. “I’m - I can teleport, Mr. Freeman,” he reminded him.

Gordon chuckled softly. “Right. How could I forget?”

“But if you need to go somewhere, I can take you,” he added.

The lenses were repaired, for the tenth time over. Tommy inspected them for a second before sliding them delicately back onto Gordon’s face, somewhat hesitant to remove his hands as he withdrew. The first time he did this, Gordon was telling him all about what he wanted to do once they made it out of Black Mesa. Even then, it had seemed like an impossible dream, stacked as the odds were against them.

Now that they had done it, that it was real, Tommy felt like they had been handed some a measureless gift. He wasn’t quite sure yet what to do with it, and he guessed Gordon didn’t have much of a clue, either.

They held one another’s gaze. Gordon’s eyes were as full and clear as a starfield in the wilderness, dark and vast and deep. The lights in the parking lot hummed in the silence. Tommy had never felt quite so lost before, yet never quite so certain of where he needed to be.

“Thank you,” Gordon said finally, his words holding enough weight to indicate that he wasn’t just grateful for the glasses repair or the offer of travel.

No response seemed an adequate enough reply, so Tommy just smiled at him. For all the nightmares he endured in the past week, he didn’t regret a second of it if he got to see Gordon looking at him like this in the close desert night. He’d completely fallen for him, as hard and as fast as a meteor burning through the atmosphere.

He felt the threat of tears returning in the tightness of his throat, so he dropped his gaze and cracked a joke. “So… did you still want to get a Big Mac, or-”

“Oh my god,” Gordon cut him off, grabbing Tommy by the lapels and pulling him in.

This kiss was so different from their first one, it may as well have happened in another lifetime. The loss and pain and almosts were replaced with a fierce, blooming hope, a warmth and possibility passing between them in the breaths they took. Tommy raised his hands to tangle in Gordon’s hair, slow and reverent. This was magic, this was sunlight. They may have just lived through hell, but as Tommy kissed Gordon, he knew that he had found heaven right here, in the person he loved.

When they broke apart, it was soft and gentle, and it wasn’t goodbye.

They stood there, foreheads touching, under the soft full moon. Gordon unknotted his hands from Tommy’s lab coat in favor of winding them around his waist. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

“This is gonna sound - like, this is probably a stupid question, after everything, but like,” Gordon stammered out, breathless and rosy. “D’you wanna get dinner sometime?” he asked. “Y’know, like, somewhere nice?”

Tommy drew away to look at him, a slow grin unfurling on his face. “Was Chuck E. Cheese not fancy enough for you, Mr. Freeman?”

Gordon threw his head back to laugh, clear and sweet, and it was the loveliest sound in the world.

Chapter 22 <--- 

[cecilspeaks]

145 - The Veterans

Fake it till you make it. Mike it till you like it. Book it till you look it. Welcome to Night Vale.

More soldiers of the Blood Space War have returned home to Night Vale. Another craft landed in the corn field of John Peters – you know, the farmer. Beings of astonishing structure emerged alongside four human figures in space suits. The astronauts removed their helmets to reveal they are Night Vale residents James Peters – you know, the brother of Johns Peters – you know, the farmer; twins Drew and Dan Christiansen, and Junior Blay. These veterans of the interstellar conflict were welcomed by the citizens of Night Vale with hugs, a brass band, and delicious unsold baked goods left over from last month’s PTA bake sale to support the Blood Space War.

The returning soldiers thanked the gathering, but warned Night Vale of the Polonian armies of star system Lakaia 9352, who are encroaching at this moment upon our own galaxy. Admiral Junior Blay of the 63rd mountain cavalry said the Polonians are ruthless killers. They are three times the size of humans, with hundreds of sharp teeth up and down their many boneless limbs. They have only one eye, which really messes up their depth perception, (Blay) said, but that eye can also shoot out lasers, so it’s sort of a six of one way, half dozen the other

The crowd did not hear most of what the veterans had to say, as they were mesmerized by the beings of astonishing structure standing atop the landing ramp of their disc-shaped craft. “Oh those?” Sergeant Dan Christiansen said. “They are allies. They’re from the Battlestation Wolfgang. They have no home planet, as it was destroyed millennia ago by the Polonians.” The crowd pointed and shouted “interlopers of astonishing structure” at the beings, but Lieutenant Drew Christiansen said: “Oh, they have no oral or written language. They cannot understand your noises.” Drew then did a kind of b-boy pop and lock dance move and the beings of astonishing structure replied with a balletic prance before entering their ship and departing. They said: “Thanks, but this place is weird.” Drew Christiansen interpreted for the crowd.

Dan and Drew Christiansen were born in Night Vale in 1912. They became tax accountants. They had wives and children. They donated to the old Night Vale Opera House and were avid sports fans. They even started the first ever semi pro sand hockey league. Dan passed away in 1994 of liver cancer, and Drew passed away weeks later of a heart attack. They were survived by their wives, children, and grandchildren. But upon returning to Night Vale this week, these 107-year-old men looked to be in their late 20’s. The Christiansen twins have attempted to reunite with their families, but they were unrecognizable to their grandchildren who are now middle aged. And when Dan and Drew tried to apply for jobs, they were declined on account of an antiquated law that makes it illegal to hire the dead.

Junior Blay, a 50-year-old man, said he was born in 2022 to Oliver and Linda Blay of Old Town Night Vale. The Blay family was contacted about this and said they had not planned to ever have children, so Junior will likely have been an accident or a dramatic change of heart. Blay was wounded in his combat assignment and returned home for treatment. He suffered third degree burns across his abdomen and arms and needs a skin craft, but the Night Vale VA has to wait for approval from the Red Mesa VA to clear his procedure, which could take weeks.

Jim Peters was honorably discharged from service and was heavily decorated with chevrons and medals. But his face sagged with exhaustion and history. His brother John was the first to greet him, but Jim could not match his brother’s tearful enthusiasm. Jim had seen too much, experienced too much, to ever feel normal again.

In light of the physical, financial, and spiritual crush on these men, the City Council announced that it would paint a giant American flag atop City Hall and play John Philip Souza’s famous patriotic march, “Bodak Yellow”, at all hours of the day over a loudspeaker. And the whole town cheered proudly, for they were truly taking care of our vets.

Let’s have a look at sports. The Night Vale High School wheel chair basketball team, captained by junior point guard Janice Palmer, won their semi-final game last night against Cactus Park High School 72-58. Forward Quinn Booman led the team with 20 points and also had 8 rebounds and 10 assists. The Scorpions fell behind by 16 points in the first half, but really found their inspiration at halftime. Coach Jacobite McPhee told his team not to get down on themselves because it’s impossible to make every single shot, you just have to have fun. McPhee then took out an acoustic guitar and sang the following original song.

[Joseph Fink sings] Physics is a science of made up numbers and rules So we can only make joy and pass the ball like fools. To win it leaves our hands of free will it’s true Cause you never ever know what that ball is gonna do. Physics is a science of made up numbers and rules So we can only make joy and pass the ball like fools. Yes we can only make joy and pass the ball like fools.

The team relinquished their illusion of control and dominated the second half offensively. The Scorpions face Pine Cliff this Saturday afternoon in the district tournament final, so let’s all get out there and support our team, really root for the ball to go into the… the hmm hmm, the the, you know the thing that the ball is supposed to go into. And this has been sports.

Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald at the Intergalactic Military Headquarters, speaking from an inflatable raft atop an infinity pool filled with Remy Martin Black Pearl Cognac, said he and his top strategists in the Intergalactic Military Headquarters still have no idea what the Blood Space War is about. But they’re glad to learn that the Polonian armies are approaching. “We’ve got all this money piling up for the war and we’re getting bored with hosting Lamborghini demolition derbies,” Archibald said. “The government keeps sending us cash and we’re like OK y’all, but like what are we supposed to do with iiit? And the feds are like, I don’t care start a war or something.” But unfortunately the government allotment for an interstellar war was wiped out on a failed investment in a tech startup that was pitched to them as “the Uber of Netflix of Facebook” by a 7-year-old wearing a suit. So, the Intergalactic Military Headquarters was forced to ask for contributions. Hence, the PTA bake sales. Additionally, the Sheriff’s Secret Police were able to provide several armored combat vehicles, two tons of enriched uranium, and a satellite activated missile launching system, all of which had been donated to the Secret Police by the US army.

Sheriff Sam said they had wanted to keep all that high-tech battle gear, but using a nuclear submarine to stop Night Vale citizens who were fishing without a license, created to what Sheriff Sam referred to as “less than satisfactory optics”. Archibald said he was appreciative of the Secret Police’s charity, but he’d just received word that the Polonian ships are already within the outer limits of our solar system. So not sure there’s much left to do, really. He then took out a roll of 100-dollar bills from his shirt pocket and ate it like a Snickers bar.

An update on the high school basketball tournament. The City Council announced that there will be a parade for the team, win or lose, next Tuesday evening. The parade will feature giant floats in the shapes of famous basketball players, such as Oscar Robertson, Larry Bird, and Little Bow Wow. There will also be a celebrity appearance by Lee Marvin, who will be celebrating his 30th birthday on Tuesday. Aww. Happy birthday, Mr. Marvin!

The City Council expressed civic pride in this talented team of young athletes, and enjoined all of Night Vale to come out in celebration of sportsmanship, regardless of the outcome of the championship game. “Of course,” the single-bodied entity of the City Council said with uncharacteristic mirth, “we think our team will win.” The City Council’s many faces then winked in unison. “Also,” the City Council added, “If you look up in the sky, you’ll see that a large chunk of the moon just exploded and the Earth is surrounded by enemy space crafts, but there’s not much we can do about that, so let’s just cheer on our basketball team.” The City Council then held up their many fists and squealed: “Yay team!” as pieces of the moon began to thunder down around us.

Let’s go now to today’s Weather.

[No Good Day” by Windows to the Sky https://windowstosky.com]

I’ve just received an email from Harrison Kip, archeology professor at Night Vale Community College. Kip told me that while on a dig in 1993, he and his team of researchers found remnants of several spacecraft buried deep in central Nevada. Kip was studying fossilized remains to determine eating habits of early North American habitants, but what he found were several triangular titanium vessels, each roughly the size and shape of a Burger King. He tried to check his notes from that excursion, but those pages had been torn out of his journal. Despite this, he’s positive the ships he can see above our Earth are identical to the ones he found crashed in the desert 25 years ago. Inside those ships were creatures the size of hippos, with long dangling limbs covered in sharp teeth. Kip remembers calling the college to ask for more funding for this research, but before he could do anything, a black van drove up to the dig site and several men wearing business suits that were patterned in desert camouflage got out, they arrested Kip and his assistants, and had them reprogrammed.

Kip said the reprogramming was successful until today, when he heard my news reports about the Polonians, and his memories suddenly returned to him, and now he believes he knows exactly what has happened in the Blood Space War and how we will end it. He’s going to type up his notes while they’re still fresh in his mind, and get them over to me asap. Oh, this is so very exciting! Science saves the day. Once again. Uh huh, here’s a follow up email from Harrison. It says: “Hey Cecil, disregard whatever I said earlier, I don’t even remember what it was. Some guys I didn’t know showed up and put a metal helmet on me, there were a bunch of wires and knobs and lights coming out of it and it felt so peaceful and comfortable, like when you’re eating Belgian waffles with ice cream or binge-watching Terrace House, anyway I don’t remember what I sent you earlier since (--) have been deleted, so whatever it was it couldn’t have been [angrily] that important? Sincerely, Harrison?” No! No, this is terrible. OK, I’m going to forward Harrison’s first email back to him to see if it rejogs his memory. We’ve gotta learn exactly what- Hello? Hello there? Listeners, there are some men entering my studio. They’re wearing business suits made from a desert camouflage patterned fabric! Oh, Gucci, I love it! They’re, they’re putting this crazy hat on me and it has a bunch of lights and wires, hang on Night Vale, listen to this interview I recorded earlier today with John Peters – you know, the farmer. These boys are here trying to get me ready for fashion week, I-I-I think?

John Peters: Jim came home this week and I was real happy, happier than a pig starring in its own TV show about pig detectives solving pig murders. My brother taught me to play football when we was boys. He’d throw the ball and say: “Johnny, move your hands together like salad tongs when the ball gets near you, that’s called ‘catch’.” I tried so hard to catch that ball, but I never could. [chuckles] We had fun. Jim taught me so much and he took care of me, running off the bullies at school, buying me soda pops and candy canes from this man who lived in a trunk of a broken down ’56 Chevy in the alley behind the post office. I’m almost 60 years old and my brother left for the war back when I was 15. And to see him again, boy to see his face after so long, he ain’t changed one bit. He literally is the same age as when he left, 22 years old. But he’s not the same Jim. He don’t wanna throw the football or go looking for discount sodas and candy in weird alleys. No, Jim looks sad. His body’s strong but his mind seems so weak. I saw him crying the other day and told him what our papa always said to us: “Jim, boys don’t cry. Not without talking through their feelings with someone else.” So I put my arm around young Jim. I must have looked like a granddad - me so old, him so young - but our memories of each other were the same age. Jim cried into my shirt and said, “Johnny, I’ve been in that war darn near a hundred years. That’s a lot of space travel, not a lot of fightin’ but when there is fightin’ it’s gruesome.” Jim said he didn’t wanna see no more war, but he said that in his last battle he risked his life to disarm a bomb that would have killed ten of his fellow soldiers, and one of them was the General. “The General has a plan for ceasefire,” Jim said, “the General has a plan for peace. But I think the General needs me, Johnny.” I said, “Jimbo, I need you.” But I knew that I’d been without him for 40 years, while this General was with him for nearly 100. I knew I was lyin’ to Jim and myself. Jim hugged my neck and kissed my cheek. He donned his space suit and walked out into the corn field and disappeared. I think my brother is gonna save us all. Anyway, it’s a sad story, but it’s also happy. Like a goat playing a piano, stories carry lots of different emotions all at once.

Cecil: [sounding high] Alright, listeners, I’m back. I don’t remember what I was talking about, nor where I got this really cool hat. But City Council announced that the space ships that were surrounding our planet are gone. But they were deeply unnerved by the fact that the ships did not retreat, they simply disappeared. The City Council then added that the moon is still broken but honestly, they see this as a crisatunity to buy a new one.

Oh, don’t forget to come to the basketball championship parade on Tuesday.

Stay tuned next for simultaneous panic and relief, As you realize all of your emails are gone.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Develop your chi. Really work that chi hard. Get sixpack chi. Totally swole with chi. Roll up those sleeves and welcome people to the chi show.

[bunny-heels]

You can pretty much safely assume that G-Man wanted to kill Breen for a very, very long time

It’s speculated that G-Man told Breen about the possible outcome of the resonance cascade and how he can use it to his advantage since he talks about Gordon having a contract and being a pawn. Breen no doubt really wanted to use that chance, considering Eli implies greatly that he’s acted this slimely and bastard like even when he was Black Mesas Administrator. And there’s no way Breen just brushed off the fact that Eli and Kleiner and many others survived the incident, which already makes you think Breen and Eli specifically probably already had a grudge against each other back in Black Mesa.

G-Mans Employers have more power than him. First cause they’re his Employers, they tell him what to do. They’re the ones who told G-Man to put Adrian in the void storage because they didn’t trust him since he could actually speak. He had to consult his Employers before hiring Gordon. He’s the one who was most likely ordered to bring the crystal to Black Mesa to start the cascade. If he was stronger than them then he would be smart enough to try and do things on his own, nor would he need to consult them before preforming an action. He can’t kill them either. Not only would he possibly not be able to stand a chance, but he has no reason to. Because they listen to him and order him to use percautions.

Mind you, he was the one found and saved Alyx. Of course his Employers would be considered as to why he chose a child out of any other viable options besides Adrian and Gordon, but G-Man obviously has good enough communication with his Employers that they’re willing to give him a chance as long as he can prove that it’ll work if he can make it work. And he has no reason to think of killing them if they disagree with him. He most likely was already taught to do as they said, and that even if he planned the idea he’d be greatly punished. Why would he even think of killing a force greater than him that he knows he can’t kill himself?

And Breen finding out that Eli was alive would cause him to be upset, inevitably. So who’s he going to consult and question about the survivor of the incident? The guy who caused it and gave him the proposition he’s in now of course. And when saying she’s going to become much useful in the future, how’s Breen supposed to react to that? Happy that the man who he has a large grudge with is alive and not only that but also his legacy? No. He’s gonna be furious. He’s gonna question why he’d even think of that. He’s gonna wonder why he bothered to let Eli live, let alone his child. He’s gonna burst out saying that she’ll probably grow up to try and kill him. And he’s gonna be saying what he should’ve done. ‘You should’ve left her with her mother.’ ‘You should’ve ignored her.’ ‘You should’ve let her die.’ ‘She’s just a baby, a mere child, she’s of no practical use to anyone, why didn’t you let her die?’

And the man who saved her isn’t going to like that. He doesn’t like being told by some CEO that he should’ve thrown away potential. He doesn’t like being told by someone who sides with the enemy that he should’ve let her die. He didn’t like being told that the thing he saw worth in was worthless or useless. He didn’t like being told what to do or should’ve done. What does he know? He’s a man who quickly gave into power because he wanted it so bad. And he doesn’t even understand his own position or what he signed up for. And he’s weak. Weaker than him. So weak in fact that it would be so easy at that moment to ‘quell’ him and have it be completely out of the blue.

But now he can’t do that, what good would it do? There’s no point in killing something that he knows has no power over him. He’s trying to tell him what to do, exactly, he can’t do that, because he’s not an Employer. He’s not of higher power. He can’t do anything to stop him from what he’s doing. Plus, his Employers would also find it useless, and probably a bad idea. Killing the one human who could convince the entirety of humanity to give into their ideologies and life style? No. That’s a death sentence. That’s asking for another 7-Hour War. But like Eli said ‘they probably won’t last 7 minutes.’

So he’s just gonna have to wait. He’s gotta wait until the very perfect moment to where Breens life will finally end. Waiting until his death comes meaningful enough to be entertaining. And when it happens, he’s going to be watching it. He doesn’t want to miss the day of when everything he thinks he’s worked so hard to get for such a long finally comes crashing down on him. Because killing a man at the top of pride is better than killing him at the start.

Silencing him was out of the question, murdering him wasn’t.

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk

[thezeekrecord]

GAGEGN ch22

[index/summary]

REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta's employment opportuinty (declined)

Tommy opened his eyes, immediately faced with a black void.

It wasn’t completely featureless, Tommy noticed with some mixture of comfort and terror as he looked around him. There were thin streaks of white zipping past him—like he was traveling in some sort of tunnel, watching tiny dots of light go by around him. He stood there, barefoot, in his pajamas, fully certain he had just been in bed a second ago. Tommy shivered and turned around.

“Hello, Tommy.”

Tommy found himself face-to-face with...what had he said to call him? G-Man? Tommy stared at him with wide eyes, expression blank, carrying his trademark briefcase to his side.

“Uhhh...” Tommy started, looking around the void they were in. “Where are we?”

“You don’t need to—concern, yourself with that, Tommy.” G-Man replied coolly. “I brought you here, because, you are rooted deeply within the...storyline, if you will. I have been...watching, and learning, ever since our last conversation. I have a theory that, if we work together...we could hold incredible power.”

Tommy paused, shuffling his feet on the cold not-surface below him and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “...I don’t...really want in—uhh, incredible power, though.”

“You don’t?” G-Man questioned, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you...humor, me, then? I want to show you something.”

“I don’t really want to.”

G-Man didn’t move a muscle. It was sort of eerie—he didn’t even blink or breathe, he just stood there, completely still. Eventually, Tommy caved and nodded.

“...Okay. But I really, umm—I really need to get back home soon, I need to be on time to start driving. We’re going on a—”

“A road, trip...yes, I’m aware.” G-Man nodded. “Not to worry. This is a place that exists outside of a human’s...conventional, understanding of time, and space. Now, I want you...to think back to Black Mesa.”

Tommy was silent, thinking about his old dorm, his HR office, the Nihilanth’s enclosure, and workspaces he shared with Bubby and Dr. Coomer.

“Are you envisioning it, Tommy?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now, do not, imagine someone you already knew. But I would like you...to think of someone who could, reasonably have existed, at Black Mesa.”

“...Like...make someone up?”

“Precisely.”

Tommy paused, drumming his fingers on his thighs as he thought. “...Okay. Ummm...I’m th-thinking of...someone named...M—uhhh, Mart...Martin...i.”

“...Martini?”

“Yeah.”

“Like the drink?”

“I’m not—I’m not really good at thinking of names on the spot.”

“What department did Martini work in?”

“Uuuummmm...” Tommy crossed his arms, tapping his heel against the cool surface he stood on. “Martini worked in...the Biodome complex.”

“What hours did Martini work?”

“Uhh—...what’s...what’s the point of this?” Tommy asked.

“Bear with me, Tommy.” G-Man replied. “What was Martini’s schedule?”

“Ummm...Martini was—uhhh, Martini worked in the observation rooms, so...g-...grave shift?” Tommy suggested tentatively. “So like...I guess...9:30pm to 6am. Tuesday through Saturday.”

“Did Martini like their job?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What sort of person was Martini like?”

“...Uhhh...theyyyy...were really passionate ab—uhhh, about their job. They were sort of...uhh, competitive, about how well they could do their job, and I think wanted to...climb the ladder, I guess? They...had a lot to prove. They just—they wanted recognition for their work.”

G-Man nodded. “Excellent. I think that should be enough. Now, let’s, go back.”

G-Man turned around. As he walked further down the strange void, he indicated for Tommy to follow. A sharp outline of a doorway of light formed in front of them; G-Man stepped through confidently, disappearing inside. Tommy stared at it in awe. He remembered this—it was just like that first time he’d been inside the Nihilanth, when he wanted to go home. Slowly, Tommy stepped through as well, closing his eyes against the blinding light.

****

Tommy experienced the jarring sensation of going from one cold, non-existent surface to a new, still cold, very real surface beneath him. He opened his eyes, finding himself inside an observation room of the Black Mesa Biodome complex, overlooking the strange fauna below. Tommy blinked a few times in surprise, looking at all the people milling about around him. They were all...familiar.

It would be easy to dismiss the repeated sights of Dr. Coomer and Bubby. There were prototypes and clones—Tommy knew this very well. However, there was something else he really hadn’t put a lot of thought into; now that he was faced with it again, though, after living what felt like a completely normal life post-game, Tommy finally recognized something that sent a deep shock through the core of his body.

They were all him.

Tommy stared in awe at the other Tommys who walked busily back and forth, staring out the window, making observations. It was dark outside; Tommy knew, on some level, that it must have been about 9:25pm.

“What’s...this?” Tommy asked G-Man.

“Just you wait.” G-Man replied, nodding towards the door.

Tommy looked to the side, watching it open and close. Another Tommy stepped in, a bag slung over his shoulder and a clipboard in hand. Tommy stared, realization hitting him in a harsh wave. That wasn’t just another Tommy—that was Martini. Tommy watched them in shocked silence as they set their bag down, taking a seat at the desk in front of the window and getting their work station ready wordlessly.

Nobody in the room acknowledged Tommy or G-Man—but that was a fact that was much easier for Tommy to swallow than everyone looking exactly like him. They weren’t actually physically there; Tommy didn’t need any sort of confirmation to know this. He shoved his hands in his pockets, picking at the seams inside them.

“Ummm...why do...they all look like me?” Tommy asked.

“You didn’t put any...consideration into the, appearance, of Martini.” G-Man answered simply. “I’ve been...experimenting some with this, ability, myself. I don’t have much of an imagination for, picturing what a human might look like. I went with what I am familiar with.”

“You made all of these people?” Tommy questioned, finally looking at G-Man. “...And you made them all to—to look like me?”

“Why not?”

“...It’s sorta weird.”

“Can I not...take pride in, the creation I took part in?”

Tommy grimaced. “This is...super, super weird. All of this. I don’t—...I don’t like it.”

“What do you...dislike, about it?”

“Uhhh...all of it?” Tommy said tentatively. “I don’t—...I don’t like you...stepping into my life and messing with things. And I don’t like—uhhh, I don’t like how you act like...prideful of me, when my whole life isn’t really your business, and I don’t like you just...making...copies of me? Or asking me to make a copy of me, and then—and then I...”

Tommy paused, looking at Martini. He took a few steps closer, placing a tentative hand on their shoulder. They didn’t notice the contact.

“All of these copies are...gonna die in the resonance cascade.” Tommy murmured. “I just—I just made someone, only for the sole purpose of dying.”

“That’s what all humans are, Tommy.”

Tommy made a long, displeased noise, squeezing Martini’s shoulder. “That’s really—I hate that. Don’t say that.”

“It’s not anything...against humans.” G-Man replied, approaching Tommy and placing a hand on his shoulder. Tommy shrugged away from him. “Death, contributes to the ecosystem. All humans, have the pleasure of being a part of...a certain simplistic oneness. It’s beautiful, wouldn’t you say so?”

Tommy made another uncomfortable sound, crossing his arms and pacing back to where he’d been standing before, back turned to G-Man.

“Would you prefer...I stop, using your, likeness, to populate Black Mesa?” G-Man asked gently.

Tommy nodded vehemently.

“Noted. I will stop using your likeness...in my, experiments.” G-Man said. “Now...it seems you are, rather distressed. Would you like to, go somewhere to...ease your nerves? We can go anywhere.”

“I wanna go home.” Tommy muttered.

“Think of home, then, Tommy.”

Tommy closed his eyes. He thought of his neighborhood, with the houses of his friends. He thought of his own house, just starting to feel like a place he’d really settled into. He thought of Sunkist, how she’d been taking up most of the bed when Tommy tried to go to sleep that night. He thought of Darnold.

Darnold, the greatest roommate he could have possibly ended up with. He was so grateful to be living with him. He was such a sweet man, so passionate about his interests, driven, funny, and understanding. Tommy could have ended up anywhere, in any number of shitty apartments after the trauma of the resonance cascade, and still be happy, as long as he had Darnold there.

Tommy felt the air around him change. There was a breeze, now, and a fresh, outdoorsy smell. Tommy heard the sounds of trees rustling and birds singing. He opened his eyes, looking around; finding himself stood directly in the center of a mountain road. There was a car parked off to the side of it, in front of some railing surrounding a scenic rest stop. He heard a voice speaking—a voice he knew well. Tommy circled around the car, wincing at the feeling of gravel beneath his feet until he could see him.

Darnold was there in his pajamas, sat on the hood of his car as he stared out at the mountain range in front of him, talking on the phone with someone. Tommy let out a small breath, hopping up onto the hood of the car in the space beside Darnold.

“Like...y’know. Tommy’s the son of an alien and has powers. Dr. Coomer has all those helpful cybernetic enhancements. Bubby’s a super powerful tube-grown guy. Benry’s...uhhh...I actually have no idea what Benry is.” Darnold said to the person on the other end, leaning over a little bit and supporting himself with his free hand. “But you know, that sort of thing. That’s all, like, kickass backstory stuff that had significance in the game. It added to the experience of the story, right? So like, I wasn’t really anybody special, just because I wasn’t...needed, beyond giving you a new arm.”

Tommy frowned, looking out at the mountains in front of them. Then he looked back down in the silence that followed as Gordon spoke on the other end, at Darnold’s hand resting on the metal of the car. Tommy placed his hand gently over Darnold’s with a quiet sigh. As predicted, Darnold didn’t react; Tommy squeezed his hand a little bit, as best as he could manage. His hand was warm, the skin over his knuckles sort of rough and irritated, but a comforting feeling under Tommy’s palm.

“Are, you, sufficiently calmed?” G-Man asked, practically materializing to Tommy’s side. He stood next to the car, staring out at the mountains.

Tommy furrowed his brow. “What do you want?”

“I am, quite, fascinated with the...subject of reality.” G-Man said. “Most specifically, what is wrong about this reality—that, we, reside in. None of this is...how it was meant to happen, you know.”

Tommy didn’t respond.

“It was...something about, Gordon Freeman. The player.” G-Man went on, ambling towards the railing leaning his palms into it. “There are...powers, beyond the others’ understanding. I have learned, to, shape it, to my will. And passed that knowledge on to you, my son.”

“...I hate it.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t—I just wanna...live a normal life.” Tommy said uncomfortably, curling up on the hood of the car and hugging his knees to his chest. “I wanted...I wanted people who consider me a part of their family. And now I have that. Sunkist, Darnold, Gordon and Josh, Dr. Coomer, Bubby...and...Benry—they’re my family. Why should I change anything?”

“It is not as though, this, power, hasn’t already been...utilized.” G-Man said, turning to face Tommy. “Dr. Breen, and the United States government, are not known, for their...generosity. Do you, truly, believe they would simply, hand you all the money you needed to live...comfortably, for the rest of your lives?”

Tommy frowned deeply, staring at G-Man intensely.

“That was...the most direct, role, I was allowed to take on, to date.” G-Man continued. “Truly, it was Gordon’s—the player’s—will. He was the one, who wanted a simple, comfortable life for...himself, and the rest of you. I simply provided...let’s say...an explanation.”

“So...Gordon’s the one in control of this reality?”

“In some sense, yes.” G-Man replied with a nod. “In another sense...no. It is...a strange, arrangement, that I still do not quite have a full understanding of, just yet. However, that power is not...all-encompassing. This world, is only shaped for your experience.”

“...M-...mine?”

“You, and your friends.” G-Man said, approaching the car to stand in front of Tommy. “I can only, impact, anything to do with your life directly. By speaking to you—and interacting with you. There is, a stronger force, that puppets the world around you for, your, development. Anything else—anything, outside, of your typical experience, is free to be shaped to my will. Such as...the creation of Black Mesa employees.”

“Wh—huh?”

“I would...like, for you to attempt to shape something.” G-Man said carefully. “Change anything...you’d like, within your friends’ experiences.”

“...Like what?”

“That is, up to you.” G-Man replied, looking pointedly at Darnold.

Tommy looked up at him, too, only now noticing that time was stopped for the moment—Darnold sat completely still, staring up at the sky.

“Is there...anything you would, like to do, for him?” G-Man suggested. “A child of his own, perhaps?”

Tommy grimaced deeply. “What? No! That’s not my—how do you—how do you know that?”

G-Man didn’t respond.

“I hate this.” Tommy said firmly. “I don’t wanna change anything. I just wanna go home.”

Tommy’s eyes widened when everything disappeared around him, replaced by the void with streaks of white in the distance. He wasn’t sitting on anything, anymore, but remained suspended in the air; he carefully moved his legs down, giving him the illusion of standing. G-Man was stood in front of him, just like he had been just a few moments before.

“If you will, not, assist me, Tommy, I will need, to...take matters into...my own hands.” G-Man said. He turned, taking a step to the right; a vague, indistinct ghost of himself split off, disappearing as G-Man continued walking in a small circle around Tommy. “I hope you, understand, this is not out of...malice, towards you. I care for you, as my, son. But, if you are so insistent upon your, independence, well...I’m afraid I am going to have, to, move along, with or without your permission.”

G-Man disappeared as he spoke, his voice still ringing out around Tommy. Tommy whirled around, trying to find the source of his voice. “What—what does that mean?”

“Utilizing your, connection, to the group...I believe I can...speed things along.” G-Man continued, appearing again by Tommy’s side. “There is a point, at the end of the world, where control may be, taken, again. I would like to set things...back on track.”

Tommy frowned, heart beginning to race in his chest. His throat and mouth grew numb, leaving him voiceless against his father. Instead, with a deep breath, Tommy stared intensely at G-Man, focusing all of his energy. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to do—stop time, maybe? Anything—but G-Man only chuckled.

“Perhaps, under my guidance, you would...be able, to, stand a chance, against me.” He said with an amused smile. “But...you most certainly, have, chosen your...humanity, over the power, you could potentially wield. I admire your efforts, though...Tommy.”

Tommy gritted his teeth in frustration, closing his eyes and imagining something he’d hoped he would never have to hold again. In his hand, Tommy imagined the weight of a gun, the grip cool and firm against his palm. He imagined it until he could feel it, then he opened his eyes, finding G-Man and pointing the gun.

“Tommy, your...efforts to, dispose of me, come to quite a shock.” G-Man said with what looked like an overly theatrical frown.

Tommy placed his finger on the trigger.

“I promise you...your friends, will not be killed.” G-Man continued, standing confidently in front of Tommy’s gun. He even stepped a little closer, practically daring Tommy to press the barrel against his chest. “My work, does not need to harm you, or your friends. We could work together, and be...absolutely certain, of the wellbeing of your friends, if you wish.”

Tommy closed his eyes, willing himself to pull the trigger. His hands shook, the rattling of the gun and his erratic breath echoing alone out into the void. He’d killed people before—sort of. They were video game constructs. But then, he had been a video game construct, too; and now, here he was. Those soldiers could have been alive now, right?

Well, Tommy wasn’t sure he cared so much about that, but the point still stood—he had killed before. He could do it again, now that this weird man was threatening his friends and the reality they lived in.

Eventually, something in Tommy broke. He let out an exhausted breath, loosening his grip on the gun, and—

Tommy let out a surprised yelp as a gunshot echoed through the void, leaving his ears ringing. He dropped the gun, taking a step back and pressing his palms to his ears. G-Man stood there, completely unfazed as blood began to seep through what little of the white collared shirt Tommy could see past his suit. He brushed his chest off a little, smearing blood down his shirt.

“Ah. I see.” G-Man sighed. “I’m, very sorry, you felt the need to do that, Tommy. Unfortunately...I do need to get, things, moving along, now. It’s time to go.”

A sharp, flat circle of white formed behind G-Man. Before Tommy could even process what was happening, it grew, surrounding his entire vision, blinding him in a horrible, overwhelming white light.

[previous | next]

next mobile vers: 

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[djsandok]

Heavy Hip Hop Set Reflection

Last night was special because it put my journey as a DJ in perspective. 

(March 13, 2020 - Mesa - My Birthday Weekend / The Last Weekend Before Quarantine)

It’s been a standard question to answer as of late: “How have you been dealing with the quarantine?”

I usually refer to THE QUARANTINE SERIES keeping me busy while explaining that I’m an extrovert that thrives off other people.  This is true with teaching, art, and especially DJ’ing.

I came into last night thinking it was going to be a casual R&B listening session with some old and new friends---I was even wearing my favorite R. Kelly shirt.  Little did I know I’d be playing for the generation that helped me fall in love with hip hop and DJ’ing.

--

I started DJ’ing after a road trip with my family to visit some extended family in San Jose.  I was around 12 or 13 at the time I think.  They weren’t professional DJs but knew the basics of DJ’ing.  I was surprised at how simple the concept of transitioning from one song to the next was.

I saved money and bought my equipment.  Then came my vinyl collection.  Then came the hundreds of CD-Rs I needed to make to play the newer stuff and/or rare stuff.

I didn’t know it then but I know it now.  I was part of the last generation of DJs that were hired because of the record library they had.  To put it in perspective, anyone can be a DJ with a limitless library of MP3s now.  You specifically hired a DJ because you trusted his/her limitations in music.  

It was an absolute honor to build a clientele strictly from referrals.  To this day, I don’t really like to DJ for strangers unless they’ve heard me perform somewhere.  

--

(Bryan Black tattooing my leg in 2012)

It reminds me of a conversation I’ve had multiple times with my friend, Bryan Black.  A tattoo should be a collaboration between the tattoo artist and the client.  A client shouldn’t be forcing their vision of the tattoo while disregarding the artist’s advice.  I feel the same exact way with my DJ clients.

All Bryan and I want for our clients are for them to trust us.  

That trust is usually rewarded with something special, memorable, and most importantly, organic.  

--

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by ej (@sandok_) on Apr 27, 2018 at 3:22pm PDT

(Skratching to Leon Bridges in my classroom in 2018)

I’ve been thinking about how I define myself as a DJ in 2020.  Yes, by default, I’m a Hip Hop DJ.  

However, I’m not really sure where Hip Hop stands today.  I think the “good” Hip Hop sampling era died somewhere along where Kanye’s music started getting overtly self-centered and simply not good.

With the music industry changing drastically because of the internet, it’s probably really easy to find a talented rapper.  Hell, I’m friends with some of the best emcees I’ve ever heard.

But what next?  How do you market them to people on the internet?  How do they make a career out of it?  How do you connect them to producers so they can reach their potential?

That’s why I think the next stage of Hip Hop is centered around artists like Bryson Tiller, SiR, and Frank Ocean.  

Simply put: you have to be able to showcase some musicality that isn’t necessarily based on rhymes and sampling.

--

(Toby, my munchkin cat, posing in front of some the most talented female R&B artists of the century)

Which brings me back to why last night was so special.  I’ve been so stuck on the above mentality for a very long time knowing I’ve been bored of new Hip Hop for a while.

Nevertheless, I get really excited about really good R&B.  And the 21st-Century has definitely been providing.  SZA, H.E.R., Jorja Smith, Lana Del Rey, Snoh Aalegra, Summer Walker, and Jhene Aiko to name a few.

I’d like to think I’m good at spinning that stuff because there’s an intimate feeling with their music that I’d like to share with the listener.

Nevertheless, where does that leave me in 2020 as a “Hip Hop DJ?”  Especially since I tried my hardest to have my roots grounded in the culture.  I learned how to DJ breaks from Dwenz and the Foundation FunKollective, an incredibly influential figure and organization in the Los Angeles Hip Hop community.  Did I abandon hip hop in the 2010/2020s?

Hell nah.

--

My first DJ mentor, DJ Redline, dropped in the set around 8:30 PM.  My sister had some classes with him at CSUF and he took me record shopping when I was in 7th/8th grade.  He let me in on all the DJ secrets with buying records, mixing, skratching, etc.  He even gave me a BUNCH of records which gave me a sense of pride knowing during those times DJs are what their records are.  I didn’t have anything.

Anyway, I decided to drop a LA Symphony track knowing we’re both big fans of them.  

Damn.  That was the catalyst that brought out a BUNCH of memories.

That was one of my favorite 12″ vinyl that I loved showing off back in the day.

I definitely feel spoiled that I have the MP3 and can play it whenever I want.

But, I don’t play it.  At all.

lordnik0n_ was the first to be stoked about the LA Symphony drop.

I later found out he’s the father of a former student.

That student used to tell me his family listens to my recorded mixtapes all the time.

Little did I know that he’s been tuning in to my quarantine series.

The night progressed into a HEAVY esoteric hip hop set that probably lordnik0n_, Redline, and I knew.  

Peep the set here.  It starts around 1:43:00

As a DJ, your job is to play for your crowd, my crowd was two people last night even though there were more watching.

I never get to play any of this stuff.  It was important to me to get a recording of it so I could listen to it later.

--

Last night was special because it brought my journey as a DJ full circle.

I grew up knowing there are really talented Filipino DJs before actually learning the fundamentals.

I learned the fundamentals through imitating radio station DJs (Icy Ice, Melo-D, E-Man, etc.) and other DJ Crews (Invisbl Skratch Piklz, The Beat Junkies, The 5th Platoon, etc.)

I immersed myself in Hip Hop culture by participating in B-Boy events as a DJ and building a record collection.

I built a clientele that trusted my taste in Hip Hop, R&B, Funk, Soul, Rock, etc.

I heavily incorporate my love and appreciation of music and culture into my English Language Arts classroom.

I was welcomed as a resident DJ at Mesa which started a shift in the music they were providing for their guests

--

It’s really hard to describe last night because I was thinking about all those bullet points simultaneously and reflecting where we are during this weird-ass quarantine lockdown.

But something really special happened when I was playing MP3s that I have as vinyl.  All those memories of when I was young, naive, and wide-eyed about the world came flooding back to me.  

All those memories came back and I was able to organically rock a hip hop set as if it were 2004 all over again.

All those memories made me realize that I haven’t really changed much.  My shift in music taste doesn’t necessarily mean I’m abandoning my Hip Hop roots.  It shows that I’m still hungry and wide-eyed about the world and want music to continue to give me the happiness it’s always provided me.

--

(Rampage, High School Sandōk, Sunnynblue circa 2005)

I wish I had more pictures of when I first started DJ’ing.  I think I was insecure because I didn’t want the label of “Bedroom DJ” because I wanted to be something much more.

Kind of ironic now that I’m DJ’ing in my living room for y’all.  HAHAH

--

A huge thank you to everyone that has been influential in my life.  That includes my clients, friends, family, and random people that enjoy my music at a bar/club/twitch stream.

holla.

[epacer]

Class Notes

Jeff Lee, Class of 1966

“If we think back on what we were doing 20 years ago and reflect on how recent it feels in the present moment, it gives us an idea of how quickly the next 20 years will progress,” true words spoken by a longtime friend, fellow musician and occasional guitar student. His name was Jeff Lee, a connoisseur of life, a crafty singer-songwriter, entertainer, black belt, veteran, husband, father, grandfather, and overall good guy, who was loved by many. In our most recent guitar lesson last year, we spent a couple of hours playing, a couple of hours reminiscing about the heyday of the San Diego music scene when his group Oh! Ridge and mine, Stone’s Throw, ruled the nightclubs throughout San Diego County in the 1980s, back in the day when a musician would usually work six nights a week in the same room for months as the house band, and finally we spent an hour or so talking about our mortality, the aging process and how quickly our time on earth proceeds. Little did I know I’d have to craft an article about his life so quickly after our last discussion. Lee died on July 3rd from a mountain biking accident. So, on that note, I now defer to life reflections by the many who loved him and knew him well, paying homage to his life and musical times, beginning with longtime friend, musical sidekick and Oh! Ridge partner in crime, Jerry Gontang.

Reflections from Jerry Gontang and Jeff’s wife, Carol: “If you ever attended an Oh! Ridge show, you have fond memories of the evening. Usually those memories were spawned by founder and leader Jeff Lee. The band prided itself with a collective effort of comedic timing and accurate harmonies that came about by constant practice and a grueling work schedule. 40-plus years of music and humor were kept alive through Jeff’s energy and his ability to read an audience. Parodies and funny songs, along with props and gimmickry, kept audiences entertained and laughing for decades.

Jeff had rewritten a travesty of Peter Paul and Mary’s hit “Puff the Magic Dragon” and it became the group’s most requested song. Other satirical hits included “Dick and Jane,” “Loving You,” “The Fish Song,” “Dead Dog Rover,” and the show closer “Rodeo Song,” plus many others too profanely titled to name here. Is that a smile on your face? His ability to focus and engage one table at a time allowed him and his sidekicks to make everyone in the room feel like they were a part of the show. Jeff’s degree of ribaldry became more intense as the evening progressed and this was made possible by the statement “we’re an equal opportunity offender, we f#@k with everyone,” or “this show is like a door knob, everybody gets a turn.”

The famous kamikaze airplane and drink wheel specials made a lot of bars, restaurants, owners, managers, and patrons happy people. One of his favorite quips,”The drunker you get, the better we sound,” became a motto that audiences revered. The “Toast! Toast back!” routine, borrowed from a fellow entertainer in Sun Valley, Idaho, and followed by a limerick, insured nobody was left ignored. The show usually started out with a docile dinner set and ended with the last set being triple X blue humor. Inappropriate? Maybe, if you didn’t have a sense of humor. Entertaining? Always, from beginning to end. That’s just how Jeff Lee planned it.

His part-time career as a music teacher in the elementary school system caused many double takes from parents who had seen the Oh! Ridge show. A three-battery Mag flashlight kept in his back pocket was used to single out people in the audience. There was no mistaking who he was talking to. Jokes were a good portion of the show and he was always coming up with new material. Not one to be outdone by hecklers, his Don Rickles style of banter left them outwitted and wishing they had never started. At a recent Oh! Ridge reunion that lasted four and a half hours, Jeff was the only member who remained on stage. When asked how he was able to play for so long, he immediately replied, ‘Depends?!’

Although he was the driving force behind the band, he was much more than Oh! Ridge. Jeff and his wife, Carol, were married on October 26, 1980. They have two daughters, Jessica Taylor and Allison Lee; son-in-law Michael Taylor; and grandsons Jackson and Lincoln Taylor. A proud papa and grandpa, he could be seen swiping pictures into his iPhone while giving brief excerpts of the children’s progress to friends and fans intent on hearing updates. A native San Diegan, he attended Crawford High School, Mesa College, San Diego State University, and served in the United States Navy. Attending open mics opened doors to a solo career playing private parties, corporate functions, restaurants, festivals, and coffee houses. Outside of music, Jeff also had an interest in musical theater, playing roles in his daughters school plays and local theatrical troupes. He was an active member of the Ancient and Honorable Order of E Clampus Vitus (ECV), a fraternal organization dedicated to the study and preservation of the heritage of the American West, especially the history of the Mother Lode and gold mining regions of the area. An avid mountain biker and second-degree black belt in karate, he was well versed at getting from point A to point B via dirt trails and more than competent at fighting his way out of a paper bag.”

From former Oh! Ridge band member Ricky Araiza: “Jeff was the instigator of Oh! Ridge; he was the prime mover, the big bang for this period of music for so many friends and family. We had lots of happy moments and good times thanks to our brother Jeffrey and we are all supremely in debt and equally sad for his loss. Bye brother. miss you already!”

From singer-songwriter Joe Rathburn: “I arrived in San Diego in 1979. I had been performing back in my home state of Michigan, making great money in a chain of steak houses. They were part of the Foodmaker chain which owned, among other things, Jack in the Box. The regional manager told me that I could go out to San Diego and get a gig playing at one of their affiliated restaurants, in particular, the Monterey Whaling Co. When I got here I was in for a rude awakening, as those restaurants already had acts that were playing every night, and packing them in to boot. One of those acts was Oh! Ridge. Jeff Lee and Jerry Gontang along with Steve Yarberry owned every room they played with their mixture of comedy and music, with the emphasis on comedy, of which I had very little, and still don’t to this day. But it was always the chemistry and timing between Jeff and Jer that made that act click. Jeff always had a lightning wit and a pocket full of jokes; he was the edgier, racier and more sarcastic of the two, but they both were dedicated to making their audience have a good time, no matter what.

We never really hung out as close friends but they’d always treat me like a star whenever I’d get off of my gig early and rush over to see their last set. They’d always have me get up on stage and sit in. They both were respectful of me and my act, and though I was always kinda chasin’ them, trying to get booked in the same rooms they were in, they were both always supportive and friendly.

One of the last conversations I had with Jeff, I recall poignantly how he and Carol were getting ready to start livin’ the golden years, and enjoy life more.”

From Walt Richards, multi-instumentalist teacher and performer: “Jeff Lee entertained thousands. He gave us laughter and joy through his music. He respected his fellow musicians and encouraged them to share their talents along with him. He was an inspiration and mentor to many in San Diego and an early pioneer in the professional acoustic music scene helping pave the way for many of the musicians who followed. Jeff gave his life to his music and his family. I am so lucky to have known him; I will miss him.” From Ed Douglas: Currently a contented ceramic tile pop artist, Douglas was in the original Scottsville Squirrel Barkers lineup, a legendary 1960s local bluegrass band that featured the likes of Chris Hillman (the Byrds), Bernie Leadon (the Eagles) and Kenny Wertz (Flying Burrito Brothers). He shared his thoughts about Lee, who often sat in with the reunited Barkers from the late 1990s forward. “Jeff and I became good friends. Many of the folk and bluegrass community would gather socially and musically at Jeff’s house on Sundays, he was a great guy who loved music and life.”:

From Al Hollar: “I met Jeff in Tucson in 1978 playing with Oh! Ridge at the Putney St. Pub. He was funny, bright, unpretentious, and welcoming to a wandering harmonica player from North Carolina: he was a large part of the reason I moved on from Tucson to San Diego later that year. He gave me chances to sit in and play with Oh! Ridge, introduced me to dozens of interesting players, and showed me some of the life of an actual performing musician. While I have long since returned to North Carolina and mercifully allowed some of my poorer decisions in California to blur, I will never forget Jeff’s kindness and humor. He had no reason to like and welcome me, and yet he did.”

From singer-songwriter Charlie Imes: “Some people are just genetically designed to make people laugh and smile, and Jeff Lee was royalty among these people. From the first time I saw him and Jerry Gontang play to a packed house as Oh! Ridge, it was clear that Jeff was not only a natural performer, but he also possessed an infectious sense of happiness. That became clearer to me the longer I’d known Jeff. On too few occasions I got to share that energy on stage with him, as our paths kept us busy and crossed too rarely. But he was more than just an ever-present smile and quick wit. He was a great musician, player, singer, entertainer, and friend. There are too few of those in this world and we weren’t ready to let this one go. Even in Jeff’s tragic untimely passing, he reminds us that life is too short and to cherish the time we get to spend with our friends and loved ones. Thanks, Jeff and toast back buddy.”

From fellow troubadour Jeffrey Joe Morin: Jeffrey Joe, who posted this on his Facebook page in his daily top 10 gratuities from July 5. Sadly, Morin passed away 12 days later on July 17th. (Look for a tribute to him in the September issue.)

“Top Ten Things Today I am Grateful for:” • Jeff Lee Singing in my Kitchen • Jeff Lee’s Wise Counsel • His Expert Stagecraft • His Larry Robinson Song • Singing Harmonies with Jeff and Cici • Singing Harmonies with Jeff and Liz • Loving Jeff Lee • Hugging Jeff Hours Before His Death • His Kindness and Joy

*Reposted article from The San Diego Troubadour by Wayne Riker of August 2017 titled “Jeff Lee: A Man of Music, Joy, and Laughter” in the Front Page Section.

[bestforlessmove]

Why Moving Companies Need a Charitable Partner

It's very simple: doing good is good for business. People like doing business with organizations that give back.

Patagonia donated all $10M of its Black Friday sales to environmental causes and recently planned to take on President Trump to prevent the government from rolling back environmental rules issues under Obama's administration.

Bank of America recently partnered with Kiva to promote women's entrepreneurship around the globe. The partnership matches, dollar-for-dollar, what Kiva's citizen lenders provide to women entrepreneurs on Kiva.org.

Coca Cola has been working with the World Wildlife Fund since 2007 to help conserve freshwater resources. From contracting over 1 million tons of sustainable sugar worldwide to protecting 350 hectares of forest in the Pasablen River basin in Gautemala, Coca Cola realizes that water is essential to nature, and essential to Coca Cola. Therefore healthy freshwater is crucial to business.

If these stories tugged on your heartstrings, you know that doing good is good for your soul. But, we keep hearing that it's good for business. How so?

Millennials thrive (and buy) socially

A recent Cone Communications study shows that 70% of millennials will spend more on brands that support causes. With millennials representing $2.45 trillion in spending power (yes, trillion!), corporate social responsibility should be on your mind, movers!

Employee morale

Working with a charitable partner allows companies to boost employee engagement across the board. People like working for companies that have a good public image. People also like working for companies that are in the media for positive reasons. And, happy employees = better output. Nearly 60% of employees who are proud of their company's CSR activities are engaged at work on a daily basis.

On top of general employee morale, think about the the positive workplace environment you're building with a socially responsible team. Instilling a strong sense of culture in CSR from the top down will help to create a positive and productive environment. You need to prove that you care about your employees and your community, outside the walls of your offices and your trucks.

Have you ever run a contest at your company? If you have, you know the extreme lengths employees will go to if it guarantees a win. This past holiday season, we hosted a food drive to benefit Move For Hunger. We gamified it, and before you knew it, huge shipments of razors, cartons of diapers, pallets of cannned corn, and family-sized packs of popcorn started rolling through our doors. Our team got creative because there was a prize pride! When pride is on the line, creativity shines! You should want to inspire this in your team. Here's a pic of just some of the items we collected!

Stronger marketing

If you think about it, with such a focused business, there are only so many things you can market. Your solid reputation, your reviews, your staff and crew, your technology, etc. Eventually, you need new things to talk about, as any business does. By partnering with a charity, you not only do all the good we just discussed, but you also give your company the opportunity to have a stronger public image and increased media coverage.

The media can pick up good and bad stories oftentimes, in our industry, the bad attract more attention than the good. So, give them more of the good! Build relationships with your local reporters and tell them the wonderful things your company does to build a better community. They will eat it up!

You'll be able to better differentiate your brand. Standing out used to be a primary reason for engaging in socially-responsible behavior, but now it's so commonplace that it's nearly expected. Imagine you're choosing between Pepsi and Coke: the flavor is exactly the same, yet one offered sustainable packaging and the other didn't. Most consumers nowadays will think twice about that decision. Use CSR to set yourself apart.

There's also an opportunity for your CSR activities to actually help you innovate your own products. Think about this: imagine you launch a green campaign to spend a bit more money on a more energy efficient truck. In doing so, it's highly likely that your green initiative and your energy-saving goals lead to a cost savings in your fleet costs. Look at that doing good led to cost savings, a better product, and a brag-worthy talking point for your sales team.

Build your community

This should go without saying, but actually supporting your community and helping is probably the biggest driver of business success.

You have an incredible asset: you have trucks. Do you know how many charitable folks in your community need trucks? They need something you have. If you're not ready to start your own CSR initiatives, piggyback on someone else's! If a triathlon needs to move parts of their setup, offer to help. If a big company is donating books to a local library, offer to transport it. If your town goes through a natural disaster, chances are trucks and storage space are in high demand jump right in there!

Not only are your trucks an asset to the charitable partner, but they're an asset to you as well. They're fully branded. Without sounding too self-serving here, helping out in a time of need also means more eyeballs on your brand. And, the kind of eyeballs you want the ones that associate your brand with doing good in the community.

Success stories

We've met a lot of moving companies over the years. But, something we didn't anticipate was the amount of good being done by moving companies across the country. It's incredible. Here are just a few of our friends that not only do good, but put it to work on their websites.

Hilldrup promotes both sustainability and community efforts on their website.

Shleppers was there for NYC during Hurricane Sandy and 9/11. This one hits home for us

Mesa Moving does a ton for the community, but we love the idea of wearing sneaks on Friday in exchange for a $1 donation, which is matched and donated by Mesa at the end of the year.

Brandon Moving & Storage hosts Fill-a-Truck in honor of Move For Hunger.

Hollander Storage & Moving has two charities that they proudly support and split website real estate evenly between the two.

As for Updater...

We couldn't possibly tell you that you should launch a CSR campaign without doing it ourselves. We've officially partnered with Move For Hunger, just like many of you.

From hosting food drives to running 5Ks to even having a member of our team on the MFH board we're committed. We're in the moving industry and, therefore, want to show the world that the moving industry is full of incredible people doing incredible work.

Here's a quick video about our partnership with Move For Hunger (you should make one too!), including awesome aerial drone shots, footage of a truck pull in the rain, and more.