#IT WAS LIKE TEN YEARS NEVER HAPPENED

[fluffypotatey]

i fucking love when a friendship doesn’t decay

[piratespencil]

This is so funny to me. Reducing them down to their simplest attributes. Turning them into symbols.

[demadogs]

when youre casually listening to music and then suddenly hit like a truck with the realization of how perfectly it fits a character or a ship and its like oh..... i fear i'll never be normal again...

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath

After waking up from a ten year stasis, Gordon finds himself back in the ruins of Black Mesa.

Notes: Hi half life fandom this is my first fic posted for HL. Also this is the first reveal of my HL au: Aftermath! So thats pretty neato, anyway hope you enjoy this short little prologue thing

Blackness was all he saw; darkness for miles, with pure nothingness filling the gaps. He couldn’t feel, see, or hear, and even trying to think of a single thing was proving to be a greater challenge than he’d expect. His thoughts blurred together into a sludge of meaningless ramblings, leaving him unable to process where he was, or how he got here. He had vague memories flashing in his mind, glimpses of concrete corridors and alien fauna. It was maddeningly barren, with the silence being enough to drive a man mad. How much time has passed since he arrived here? Has it been seconds? Days?  Time itself felt nonexistent at that very moment, simply a construct that meant nothing in this place. It felt as if he was in a dream, trapped in his own head as he traversed his own subconsciousness, floating in a vague void, unable to act or react to anything that could possibly be in there. He all but gave up hope of escaping this dark Hell he had found himself in, until he felt himself being pulled by an invisible force, and abruptly, there was light.

Gordon’s senses came back to him as fast as a train crash, the feeling of barely healed fractures and lacerations coming back to him as his nerves fired. Ringing flooded his hearing, with the HEV’s computer voice, an artificial voice he came to despise, sounding muffled and making it hard to process any of the words being said to him. He couldn’t move, his limbs feeling as if they were being pinned down by a massive weight, as if he was on the bottom of the ocean. The numbing pain shot up his legs and arms, though despite his wishes, there was no way he could even scream, with his throat tight and his vocal cords useless. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, with the weakness draped across his body making even that menial action nearly impossible. He began to wonder if the infinite void he was in before would be better than reality, with the idea of feeling nothing rather than feeling everything to a painful degree seeming like a better option than what he was forced to bear.

As he laid on the rubble, he began to hear something new past the waning ringing; footsteps approaching him. Gordon desperately wanted to move, to protect himself from the new danger, yet as much as he tried, his limbs refused to budge. Soon he realized it was multiple sets of footfall coming near, and soon, he began to make out a voice.

The words slurred together in his mind, making the message hard to decipher, but a few words cut clearer than others:

“Breathing. Freeman. Alive. Help. Out.”

Gordon felt his limp body being moved, raised from the ground by someone, or something, being dragged across the concrete floor to somewhere else. Despite his foggy mind, Gordon couldn’t help but consider the worst; Xen creatures dragging him elsewhere to slaughter him as he did to them, and Military personnel taking him somewhere to question, torture, or even execute him were among the possibilities his short-circuting mind had come up with. However, before he could even do anything to try and prevent whatever fate might befall him, he felt himself drifting off, falling unconscious yet again.

He slowly stirred awake once again to hear the sound of an engine running and tires rolling across a gravel road. He was almost afraid to open his eyes, yet when he gained the strength to do so, his eyelids opened and he took a brief glimpse around. Through his blurred vision, he saw he was in the backseat of some sort of vehicle, laid across the seats. His metal HEV pressed against his body awkwardly, making any movement he could make uncomfortable. His head was supported with a wadded-up hoodie, and his body was covered by a thin blanket that had been thrown onto him. It was strange to see simple kindness extended to him, though he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a trick to make him let his guard down. He glanced towards the front seats, seeing the back of the drivers head, but not who was in the passenger seat. They were speaking to one another, but yet again the words fell out of Gordon’s grasp. He felt himself beginning to drift off again, and despite his wishes to stay awake, he grew limp as he fell unconscious yet again.

When Gordon next woke up, he was greeted with cold air around him. As he was pulled out of unconsciousness, he began to hear rhythmic beeping beside him; something he immediately recognized as a heart monitor. Gordon felt as if a weight was taken off of him, and when he gained the strength to open his eyes again, he saw the reason why. His HEV suit was missing, and he was instead wearing a pale blue hospital gown from what he could gather. He was laying in a bed, with its stiff mattress, albeit uncomfortable, feeling like heaven compared to laying on the cold concrete floors of Black Mesa. He saw bandages covering parts of his body, old blood seeping into them. Past his bed however, he could barely make out anything, with everything being blurry and hard to make out. He must have lost his glasses somewhere, but it was the least of his worries as the pain began to seep in. 

All his limbs felt sore, making it hard to move a single finger. His leg had a throbbing pain in his knee, and he felt as if he was being slashed with knives whenever he attempted to move his arms. His heart felt heavy and his lungs stinged with every breath. When was the last time he took a break to breathe? It felt like the days worth of fighting for his life hit him all at once, making him feel nearly paralyzed, and too tired to do anything to fight it. He began to wonder if it was best to be asleep; at least he wouldn’t have to think or feel. He began to wonder how he got here, racking his brain to try and bring up any clue of what had happened. The last thing he remembered before he woke up was being knee-deep in what he could assume was blood, staring up at something…he couldn’t even begin to describe. He killed the thing keeping the portal between earth and the border world open, so why did he feel so…empty? It felt as though his accomplishment meant nothing, as if he was missing something deep inside. He closed his eyes, attempting to fetch his blotted out memories for a shred of explanation, all before he shot his eyes open, a single image returning to his consciousness.

The man.

Gordon’s memories became clear as day when he remembered the man in the dull, navy blue suit. He remembered its unnaturally piercing eyes, staring deep into Gordon’s very being as if it was examining his very soul and regrets. He remembered its face, with it looking aged, yet it felt ageless at the same time. He remembered the unnatural way it stood, as if it was being held up with strings. He recalled the way it spoke to him as if it never spoke in its entire life before that very moment. He never got its name or its motivations, but something about remembering the man and its almost human facade caused his heart to skip a beat. Paranoia crept up in his mind, and the feeling of being watched began to be overwhelming. Something wasn’t right, as if something he didn’t see was coming after him. He needed to get out of here before it arrived.

Gordon forced his arms to move as he sat up in his bed, wincing before he turned to step out of bed, clasping the side of it with one of his shaking hands. As soon as he put weight on his leg, however, he collapsed onto the linoleum floor, ripping his IV out of his arm in the process. He let out a small squeak; the closest he physically could get to a scream, a pathetic noise that reminded him just how helpless he truly was at this moment. He pushed himself up as much as he could, arms shaking at the exertion, but he couldn’t get back onto his feet. As he tried to get off of the floor in vain, the door to the room opened, and a person appeared in the doorway. It was a nurse, coming into the room only to be greeted by Gordon unsuccessfully escaping his bed. She appeared surprised, immediately approaching him to help with getting him back onto the bed, despite his best tries to escape her grasp. She said a few things to try and comfort him, but Gordon couldn’t process the words before she quickly left the room, coming back with another doctor, presumably for help.

Gordon hated the fact he was back in the bed, with a new IV being attached and bandages being replaced. He wasn’t sure when the next threat would rear its head, and he needed to be prepared for when it did. Yet, he was all but incapable of doing anything of use, and he had to accept it. He could barely even move, less shoot a gun or swing a weapon at anything. 

“Dr. Freeman?”

Gordon was surprised to finally make out what someone was saying, looking up at the doctor who had just finished reattaching his IV. 

“You’re lucky to be alive,” He stated, almost smiling slightly. It was unclear if it was to try and make light of the situation or if it was relief. “Even more lucky to be awake right now. Though please, don’t try getting up again, alright? You might reopen stitches.”

Gordon stared at the doctor’s face blankly before leaning back and staring at the ceiling as the doctor continued talking.

“A couple of scavengers found you back at the ruins of Black Mesa, or, at least that's their story. You’ll have to speak with the police about the entire situation.” the doctor continued, “The Vortigaunt said you were lucky to be found in there, apparently had to drag you out of there.”

Gordon’s brows furrowed, not recognizing the word “Vortigaunt” despite the doctor bringing it up so casually. He looked back at the doctor with a puzzled look on his face. 

“I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you’re alive,” The doctor chuckled, trying to make light of the situation despite Gordon not reciprocating the cheerful atmosphere. “You’ve been gone for a long time, so a lot of us thought you would never return.”

Gordon’s puzzled expression turned to a look of borderline anger, wanting to ask so many questions but being unable to; he didn’t even know if the doctor knew sign language, and he didn’t have paper to write on, that is if he had the strength to hold a pencil.

“You look…upset,” The doctor said, his smile fading, “I can understand why, but if it brings you any comfort, you have hundreds of thousands of people who were wishing for your return. You’re a hero, you know.”

Gordon doubted that sentiment.

“We…believe you were in a coma, sir,” The doctor glanced at his nurse, as if he wanted help breaking the news, “...one that lasted ten years, so you're...lucky to be alive at all.”

The doctor continued to explain the situation, claiming that Gordon was lucky to have his brain still functioning despite being asleep for that long, but the words went through one ear and out the other. Gordon didn’t process the doctor trying to speak to him, only staring into the wall behind him as he leaned back in his bed. He didn’t even blink once as reality seemed to become meaningless, dissociating as his brain wouldn’t even allow him to process the time lost. To him, he was gone for a few mere moments, but an entire decade had passed in the time it took him to escape the void he was in for a brief, yet agonizing time. He wondered if his friends had forgotten about him, if they were even alive after the Resonance Cascade; they almost certainly believed he was dead at the very least. Gordon had been dead to the world for so long, he felt surprised anyone came to rescue him at all. After all, who would rescue the man who caused so much death in the span of a few days? Was he supposed to go back into normal society after everything? Was he supposed to be praised as a hero, despite the fact he was just a lowly scientist who just wanted to survive?

Gordon wished to go back to sleep. Being awake felt more agonizing than the temporary stasis ever did.

[where-the-water-flows]

you ever think about how di feisheng absolutely has a moment (several moments) of total fridge horror about how he spent ten years in the jianghu ICU cave in varying states of helpless/weakness

and he absolutely wouldn't have suspected a thing until it was way the fuck too late if saintess had decided to go full torture pool noncon wedding at like. any point in those ten fucking years.

just like. at full power, and knowing that saintess was working against him, she still managed to cripple him and attic wife him (wet edition). and he got out of that because li xiangyi and li xiangyi's disciple and kinda the entire baichuan court showed up to rescue his ass.

but prior to that, any point in that ten years of seclusion, he'd have been at less than 60% of his power, defended by... wuyan? maybe?? who was also presumably doing his own healing, and medicine demon (maybe) who is explicitly Not Good At Fighting.

and no one would be looking for him. no one would be coming to help. if anyone found out he was being held by her, it would be -- at best, it would be what the demon lord deserved.

[inbabylontheywept]

My thoughts on this are a little fuzzy, but it's a sort of AI-fucks-up-the-world scenario that I call The Cacaphony. And I just wanted to share what it could look like.

Imagine a world where the chatbots have gotten good enough that it takes 10 minutes for the average person to spot them. We're getting there already. Once that happens, companies and governments will start releasing instances of these things onto forums to try and push their products and ideologies.

Now imagine that these bots are cheap. Less than $500 a year kind of cheap. Suddenly, you're reaching into an online space where you know that humans are outnumbered.

What happens then? Do we see the rise of a twitter blue-checkmark system for every single social media site? Do we see large platforms break irreparably in favor of small isolated discord cliques?

I don't know. It fascinates me. I can see some sites that just absolutely would never be able to survive. Reddit and 4chan would be obliterated. Twitter would die unless it went back to its old blue checkmark system - and even then, the only people that would ever be taken seriously would be the blue checks. Even tumblr would find itself in a tough position. Imagine how many fewer people you would follow and reblog if you had to spend 10+ minutes checking them to make sure that they were absolutely a real person. Imagine a tumblr where self-doxing started to become the norm. There would be a set point where the site just crystallizes, and it would basically never recover from it.

It boggles me, to see companies that would get rekt by this scenario pouring money into making it happen. Twitter should not want The Cacaphony. Nor should Reddit. Nor should Google, if we're being honest. And yet each of them lines up to cheerfully sharpen the sword that will one day strike them down.

[marblerose-rue]

ten years ago today i made my fursona :-D

[kitnita]

★  —  jason robertson for after hours; november 4, 2023 (x)

what's it like being part of arguably the greatest draft class of all time – greatest dallas draft class of all time – with oettinger and heiskanen? so the stars took heiskanen and oettinger in the first round, you in the second round, so it was a very productive draft. is that lost on you, that class? no, I mean, it's, it's — it's truly a special moment, I mean, we always see it, uh, and think about it when it's ever brought up, how special it is. you know, you don't find a franchise goalie, a franchise d-man, and a player … a forward like me in, uh, one round very often. so, um, very — you look back on it now and uh, we hit all of the spots, and six years later we're all pretty, uh … producing, and being big parts of this team. and hopefully and ideally we're gonna be big parts through these, uh — our carers.

[lucy-ghoul]

why are you, as an adult in 2024, still hung up on reylo. why are you still mocking the shippers. why do you believe yourself to be superior only because you dislike a stupid ship from a fucking space fairytale. girl (gnc) get a grip

[triglycercule]

im on vacation how can i make this about the murder time trio. mtt fresh out of a flight and the minute that they leave the airport dust stops horror and killer for the smoke break. because being around a smoker is like that. and while horror is dying and coughing from the cigarette smoke and killer is pretend coughing to make dust feel terrible theyre both simultaneously roasting the shit out of dust for being such an addict smoker. cancer speedrun GO says horror. refreshing his signature smell says killer. dust just glares at them and blows smoke in their face (horror literally takes damage he's at 0.7 HP)

[derrygirlstrash]

Not to start shit, if you know me you know I'm a "ship and let ship" kinda gal and saying this I truly have no problem with James/Orla as a ship it harms no one and plenty of people like it, I like people having fun... that said...

I have never understood the common argument that James/Erin as a ship makes no sense and James/Orla should have been the ship instead. Often one of the arguments is that James/Erin wasn't set up while James/Orla was and I'm sorry... what? James/Erin have at least one ship heavy episode each season as well as plenty of background moments and several significant moments in Erin's Diary.

Even if you ignore all the background moments of the two holding hands, being inside each others personal space, the times where they're clearly matching and whatnot. There is at LEAST the implication that Erin would ignore her supposed crush for James, that she cares what he thinks, that Erin is James's type, that they're aligned in creative values and match each others energies, that Erin thinks he's handsome, that James thinks she's beautiful, that she can't imagine her life without him, etc.

James/Orla have some touchy moments... that's kinda all they have as far as romantic coding and I don't see how those two hugging in the Season 2 finale is somehow more significant than what setup James/Erin have throughout all the seasons.

Honestly, while I can see Orla liking James - you could build a case for it and convince me even though I see Orla as ace/aro in my own personal headcanons... no one has ever been able to give me a convincing argument for James liking Orla back. It kinda feels like you have to ignore that he never has a reason to fancy Orla back and just project onto him that.

Which, again, go off if that's your bag I think their friendship is fun and I could see making a ship out of it, but the common argument is that the SHOW makes a better case for James/Orla and like, no? No it really doesn't? It's just not main girl/main boy and some people really don't like that trope or Erin as a main and I think that if you say the show didn't set up James/Erin well and you argue the show would have been better with James/Orla based on what's in the show, you just might not like Erin very much?

I've also never been able to make sense of the argument that James/Erin is somehow the trope that 'guys and girls can't just be friends' like, is that not also James/Orla? Y'know, besides that Orla isn't a girl. They do use she/her during the show time period though and some people who argue this think Orla is a girl, they just think they're not THE girl. So somehow it's better even though it's the same thing.

Basically what I'm saying is that shipping is fun and we all oughta do it. Every ship besides the obvious ones is potentially fun and I'm down for it, but there is one ship the show was setting up and we all know what that ship was and I think it would be better if we all were honest about it.

PS: "James was gay the whole time!" Truthers, if you made it through this post somehow I'd like to offer a compromise: James Maguire is the most bisexual coded male character in media history we can all win here.

[spn2006]

okay this destiel post is actually making me crazy because THIS is what i mean when i say no one knows what queerbaiting means anymore. brother they capitalised on destiel every time they made a new season of supernatural

[aparticularbandit]

real talk, though.

if vision quest is about white vision regaining his memories. even if she's dead, wanda should be in that.

you can't give me wandavision and then pretend that vision's memories wouldn't largely involve wanda. or you can, but then that would carry a through line of wanda caring more about vision than he does about her (or, at least, that his priorities were/are different - which you can support with infinity war and his decision to go jump into battle and leave wanda once he noticed the avengers needed his help). and regardless, she would and should still be part of those memories.

that would be the best place to confirm or deny what the mcu official timeline is speculating re: wanda's death because a white vision who truly regained his memories would also probably seek her out, depending on how he relates to those memories, even if he doesn't accept them into who he is or decides to be.

[maxthesillyy]

I dont want to be rude, but can you please explain more about how Max is infantilozed? Like do you mean by the fandom or are there other things? Just curious seriously.

oh it’s definitely a fandom thing more than anything,, if i could i would give specific examples of things i’ve seen people say about max— but unfortunately the internet is far too large and i am far too tired to do that.

but in a general sense, i would say max is most commonly infantilized by how some people treat amberpricefield as chloe and rachel being the cool, mature, badass ones and have max be the shy, blushing-nonstop, cant say the word sex, stuttering mess.

it’s definitely not That obvious all the time, but most of the time it’s still pretty noticeable— at least to me. i’m sure you could see it eventually if you scroll long enough in the amberpricefield tag.

also, this might be a different thing, but another way max gets infantilized is how people really like to treat max as if she can do nothing wrong ever. for example, the people who got upset at DontNod making max being a part of the vortex club in the alt timeline— only getting mad because they think max is too sweet/kind/anxious/etc for that kind of enviroment, as if (and i say this with love in my heart) max has never been an asshole or a little bitch (but thats a whole other post i could make). point is! it’s infantilizing to think a character can do no wrong ever, and thats how people treat max a lot of the times.

this is genuinely a really good question— i just have zero real idea how to answer it other than what i said,, it’s just something you see a lot when youre in the fandom for a while.

[oceaneyesinla]

I don't think I'm ever going to stop being excited opening this site and actually having notes

My ask box gets USED NOW! People TAG ME IN THINGS! I have FRIENDS!! People tell me they LIKE MY WRITING?!?

I have never seen so much purple in my LIFE

[queerstudiesnatural]

i think my brain should be studied i'm being fr