#but then i started to resonate with his trauma and fears and fell sick over his growth. god

[oars]

eye twitch i hate (love) how much astarions tone changes after he's free from cazador and he's thanking you. how genuine and sincere he sounds it makes me sick. i feel like im hearing an entirely different person talk but in a good way yknow.

[mikenewtonhateblog]

In Parallel With New Moon

Trigger warning, for those who are abuse survivors I would advise you read with caution or skip this post entirely.

When I listened to the saga again in December, New Moon was the book that took me the longest because of Bella’s trauma and her descriptions of it. The way she described feeling like a hole has been ripped through her, the constant dangerous activities to feel something, the blank chapters of time passing by, all of it resonated with me so hard and I want to talk about it.

Bella’s description of her trauma is extremely on par with how I felt after my father left in 2015. Until May 9th 2015 I loved my father, sure he upset me and we didn’t have a good relationship, sure he scared me sometimes, but he was still my dad and I loved and trusted him, I was his child, he’d never do something to break me right? May 9th 2015 proved me wrong, and on that sunny Saturday morning while I stood in my kitchen surrounded by paramedics and police officers, listening to the man I had grown up loving and thought would protect me from the monsters in the dark, scream about how much he hated me, I felt the love for him drain from my body like blood from a bullet wound to my heart. In that moment I realized he had been the monster all along, and after the cops and paramedics left, I tried to go back to normal, to survive. When my father decided to go camping on May 12th 2015, that was the last time he lived in this house as my mom filed for divorce that day. As he left, I cracked jokes but couldn’t look him in the eye. I thought I would be okay, I’ve been through worse right? My childhood was worse right? Again, I was wrong. In a blur, May, June, July, and August flew by. I was numb, a piece of me felt dead, removed, wrong. My shell was cracked I thought, it only took me four years to realize it was shattered. I entered an unhealthy relationship in October of 2015 to hope it would help, it didn’t. I was so conditioned to the abuse that the lack of it made me direct my anger inward. I spoke to my father for the first time since may in February 2016, when the divorce was finalized. I tried to see him to make myself not afraid. He made promises he didn’t keep and I accepted them because I was raw and didn’t want this to be my reality. I saw a therapist, and didn’t talk to my father again until September of 2016. Those months are a blur, but I know the relationship I entered fell apart. September 28th 2016 I finally cracked, the mask I had been so desperately clinging to disintigrated. Instead of doing what my soul needed, I called my father in hopes that he meant he would change and make things okay. We talked for two hours, he slipped back into old behaviors. As I hung up the phone the worst panic attack of my life began. It lasted three weeks, 3 ER trips, and finally a perscription for medication. Once the anxiety was calmed, the anger happened. I hated him, I hated myself. The things that I experienced from October 2016 to May 2017 are truly horrific and is trauma I will not go into detail about, but I was rotting from the inside out from anger and thought my time was coming to a close. My first service dog was sick and old and losing him was going to be the final straw. But somehow, in May 2017, on another beautiful sunny day when I said goodbye to my best friend and soulmate, he gave me a miracle, and I got back up again to fight. This marked my incline and recovery start. I was on better meds, I allowed myself to cry as that was something I hadn’t done in years. I forgave my father in May of 2017, not for him, but for myself and to rid my soul of the anger that was eating it alive. Forgiveness isn’t for everyone, and he doesn’t deserve it, but I did. Over the next year I realized I liked living, that I was my own person, I existed for myself, I had become a survivor. In August of 2018, my father attempted to contact me again through letters since he was blocked everywhere and doesn’t have my phone number anymore. I told him I had found happiness without him, and for the first time in my life, I picked me. I protected who I had grown into, because the loses I’d experienced would be nothing compared to that. My father didn’t like this response, I wasn’t surprised. He cut ties with my mom, and hasn’t sent me a letter since. From then to now I’ve had to learn to live again, as a new person, someone with trauma, new fears, dreams I’ve had to lay to rest, and nightmares I’ve won. I’ve had to mourn who I was, who I planned to become. That girl died that night in May.

But I’m glad she did, I wouldn’t want to be her today. My father wouldn’t like who I am today and I’m glad. I don’t need his approval to be fulfilled. That hole in my chest is still there, and it always will be. If you’re going through something similar, I love you and you can do this. There’s no time limit on healing or how long it takes to escape your abuser. I still have nightmares and flashbacks, I’m not 100% okay, and I have things I need to work through, but the important part is seeing through the veil we build to keep ourselves safe and realizing a veil isn’t a safety net. Recognizing what happened to you as abuse takes time, it’s not neat and clean with a little bow rapped up. It’s cutting off your own foot to get out of the bear trap. But you’ll be okay eventually, I’ll be okay eventually. Happy endings aren’t strictly in fiction. I love you guys, thank you for reading. Stay safe, know your worth, and love yourself.

Adelle

[cowboy-canoodler]

A High Note Of Love: Part 4

(Ta-daa have fun, I finally gave the barman a name cause I got sick of using the same words lol. Say hello to Trevor. There will be more gang members from here on out so please bear with me while I still adapt to writing them all lmao)

Masterlist: http://cowboy-canoodler.tumblr.com/post/183094165570/a-high-note-of-love-master-list

(Trigger warnings: sexual assault, violence, drunken abuse)

You had just parted from Arthur, your body still warm from his embrace, adrenaline coursing though your veins from your orgasm, you couldn’t feel your knees and sweat was prominent on your brow, strands of hair fell over your face. You ran your hands through your hair; the words Arthur had said repeated in your mind “I ain’t a man who deserves to hear good things” You didn’t believe him, Arthur had been soft with you, he never once made you feel uneasy, he was kind, and charming... No, he is a good man.

You made your way downstairs through the saloon, a couple of lonely men were drunk by the bar slurring words to eachother, another patron drinking alone, it was early in the morning now and the piano player had gone home leaving a thick silence in the air and aura of melancholy radiating from the drunken patrons. Trevor, the barman, glanded at you as you passed.

“Everything alright here Trevor?” you asked as you passed another drunk patron. Trevor replied, staring intently at said patron, “I suppose, be better when I can close up” you gave a small chuckle and waved your hand as you passed into your room. 

The smell of lilies once again filling your nose, you were sweaty and dishevelled, not to mention exhausted after your session with Arthur. You missed him, the touches he gave you, the kisses on your neck, the feel of him close to you, this was a feeling you couldn’t explain. You’d only just met the man today, exchanged no more than two conversations, and here he was occupying your thoughts, his gruff voice ringing in your ears, doe eyes resonating in your mind. 

“Is this the beginning of love?” you whispered to yourself as you lowered your body onto the bed, a soft creak from the frame. Surely not? like you said you had only conversed twice before, one night of love making does not a relationship make, yet here you are. Alone, letting Arthur Morgan penetrate your thoughts.

She had left, the room was empty and cold, Arthur was alone with his thoughts and the thoughts she had left him with. (Y/N) knew nothing about him, and yet she deemed him a good man, honourable even, but Arthur knew himself and he wasn’t a good man. Arthur grabbed his satchel, pulled his journal from it, walked over to the desk in the corner, sat down, and proceeded to write an entry:

“I met a woman today, as beautiful as an angel and she sang like one too. Her name’s (Y/N), such a kind soul doesn’t deserve to spend her time with me, yet she shared a bed with me; it was wonderful. Should I be allowed to crave her touch again?” Arthur finished writing and started to draw a picture of her singing on the opposite page, she had imprinted herself on his mind enough that he didn’t even need to think about what she looked like as he drew.

An hour passed and Arthur looked at his drawing, it looked exactly like (Y/N), this made him crave her touch even more. She deserves better than you, you’re just outlaw scum, she’s classy and smart, fierce and bold. She’s better than you. Arthur shook his head to keep those thoughts away, these were the times he’d look for a distraction, except the only distraction he wanted right now was her.

An hour later and you couldn’t sleep, thoughts of Arthur swirling around your head patrons in the bar getting rowdy brought you from your thoughts, Trevor was doing his best to calm them down, alas to no avail.

“Is she back there, huh? Too good for the likes of me, Huh?!” A man shouted, very obviously drunk and out of his mind, was he talking about you? You sat up on your bed and drew a nearby shawl over your shoulders.

“You wanna calm down right now and get outta my bar!” Trevor shouted back, this was going to be bad if it wasn’t sorted out soon, “I said get out!”

“Fuck you!” You heard a punch land and ran towards the curtain, drawing it open. “Trevor!” Blood ran from the barmans nose, he was laying on the floor out cold, you rushed over to him but before you could help him a pair of hands grabbed your waist and pulled you away.

“There she is” the patron slurred into your ear, his arms wrapped around your waist. “Get your hands off of me!” you shouted, trying to push his arms away, your legs flailing wildly to gain any kind of advantage over your assaulter.

“Hey now” He tightened his grip with his left arm and placed his right on your throat, “You wanna stay the fuck still sweetheart, or you’re gonna get hurt.” The fingers tightened slightly, and you felt your breath start to strain. No please, not again. “Stop it!” A strained shout came from your throat, your body still wriggling, trying to get free of his grasp but this only made him more adamant. His left hand was now on your breast, squeezing harshly.

No one was around to help you, Arthur was probably asleep, Trevor was knocked out, and you at this mans mercy, if he had any. “Please stop it!” Tears started spilling from your eyes as the man squeezed his hands even tighter, you could’t do anything to stop him, this was your fate. You squeezed your eyes shut and became ready to accept what you couldn’t fight back against.

“Hey!”  A flurry of footsteps, a blur, then before you knew it your abuser was on the floor, Arthur on top of him beating him senseless, “That’s no way to treat a lady!” A word between punches, Arthur kept going until the man was no longer recognisable and even then some. You couldn’t tell if the guy was still alive when Arthur finally stopped, you didn’t care the world suddenly came around you at once and you lost the will to stand. Knees buckled under you and you fell to the floor making an audible thump, this was the noise that brought Arthur out of his rage.

“Shit, (Y/N) are you alright?” Arthur looked you dead in the eye as slowly crawled towards you, he didn’t want to add to you current trauma, he brought a hand slowly to your shoulder careful to not startle you. As Arthurs hand made contact you instinctively flinched away from him, you were visibly shaking with wide eyes full of fear. “(Y/N)?”  Arthur asked again, softly.

“Arthur I-” You started crying again as you flung yourself into his arms, “thank you, thank you so fucking much.” Arthur started stroking your hair, holding you safe in his arms whispering sweet nothings and reassuring you that you were okay now.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so fuckin’ sorry” Arthur pulled you away from him and looked you in the eye, “Are ya alright? Did he- Did he- y’know?” You shook your head, “No he didn’t do more than that but” you took a deep breath “that was enough” Arthur started pulling you up, steadying your shaking legs, all the while keeping you close to him.

“Come on, lets go back upstairs, away from him” Arthur spat at the body on the floor, and lead you up the stairs. You spent the rest of the night in his arms safe and sound.

A few weeks after the incident you had become yourself again, Arthur frequented the saloon you sang at and never missed a show. This week was different however, usually Arthur was here early to talk to you before you sang, and make sure that man wasn’t here to see you again, but Arthur wasn’t here this time and you had to sing without him. The rush wasn’t the same as when Arthur was here, you had gone out to perform and couldn’t feel the spark of joy, what had happened? Had the experience a few weeks prior affected you that much? You hardly every went outside of your room anymore, and if you did it was always with Arthur or an escort.

Alone you were sat in your room, facing your mirror whilst brushing through your hair humming a sweet tune as you lost yourself in your thoughts.

“So this is where you’ve been goin’ to then, eh Arthur?” You heard a loud voice ring over the bar, a very startling Irish accent accompanying it.

“Ah Shit, What the hell are you doin’ here?” A familiar voice rang out and you perked up. Arthur! Immediately you stood up and made your way to the curtain.

“I just wanted to know where you’ve been sneaking off to!” The voice said again.

“None of your damn business that’s what, get the hell away from here” Arthur sounded angry, was this a friend of his? Or maybe a family member? You pulled the curtain open and your face lit up at the sight of the familiar gruff cowboy.

“Arthur!” you smiled and waved at him as he looked your way, a soft expression coming over him as soon as he saw you.

“Hiya (Y/N)” You walked over to Arthur and gave him another smile, “Who’s your friend?” You gestured to the ginger Irishman and gave him your signature fake smile that you used while addressing an audience or performing.

“That’s-”

“Sean! Sean MacGuire! At your service my lady!” Sean took your hand and planted a firm kiss on him, earning him a disapproving look from Arthur. You giggled and curtsied to him, “I’m (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/LN).”

Arthur promptly stepped in, “And that’s all you need to know. Now get!” he waved his hands towards an un-moving Sean.

“No way Arthur! I wanna know the lady that has you on her string! Big grumpy Arthur suddenly humming music at camp? I have to see who done that to ya!” Sean laughed heartily as he teased Arthur, you couldn’t help but start laughing too.

“Have I had such an effect on you Arthur?” You turned to face Arthur, who had a slight blush over his cheeks. You signalled Trevor for three drinks and Trevor nodded in return. “So, Sean, about this humming?”

“What can I say? Arthur spends one night in town and suddenly he’s back at camp with a skip in his step and a smile on his face! We all thought we were still drunk from the night before y’know!” As Sean kept talking you looked over at Arthur who was staring back at you.

“You missed the show” Yous whispered to Arthur witch disappointment tugging at your voice.

“I know, I’m sorry” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, “I tried to get here in time but something came up”

“It’s fine Arthur” You looked down at your whiskey, “I missed you”

“I missed ya too (Y/N)” You both looked in each others eyes, unspoken words said it all.

“You should come and meet the family! They’d love ya!” Sean pulled you and Arthur away from your moment.

“What?” Arthur spat out, you were puzzled. Was he ashamed of you? Did he think you unworthy of them?

“I’d love to, but Arthur hasn’t brought it up” You were disappointed that Sean had asked you to go and meet Arthurs family before he had, you looked over to Arthur who was scowling at Sean. “Why haven’t you asked me to meet your family yet Arthur?”

“Because then you have to speak to people like him” Arthur nodded his head in Seans direction and Sean feigned an arrow to the heart and overdramatically replied.

“Oh you wound me Arthur!” Sean giggled, “I’m not the worst person you could introduce (Y/N) to first. There’s Micah, Bill, Uncle”

“Yeah yeah” Arthur waved at Sean to shut him up. It was difficult keeping up with the both of them, Seans hyper personality and Arthurs grumpy antics.

“Well?” You asked.

“Look if ya” Arthur sighed. “If ya really wanna meet them, then I can’t say no but-” Arthur stopped talking and just nodded, “Naw you should meet them, I’m sure they will love you. Especially since you can handle that one” Arthur looked over Sean again who was smiling proudly.

“That’s what I’m talking about! Everyones gonna thank ya for gettin’ him to smile once in a while!” Both you and Sean laughed again, and Arthurs face got even more sour.

“Now now Arthur, You know I like you just the way you are” You placed a hand on Arthurs shoulder, and gave him a peck on the cheek, this earned you another blush and awkward cough.

“We can ride back together if you want! Right now! What’s better than riding there with one of us when you ride back with two?” Sean drank the rest of his drink and made his way outside, he gave a half arsed wave as the door closed.

The air was awkward between you and Arthur now, uneasy and cold. “I wanted ya to meet them but I was scared about what you’d think of them. Seeing you handle Sean means ya can handle any of ‘em” You placed your hand on his cheek and gave a reassuring smile.

“Arthur, I can’t wait to meet the people you consider family.” You walked over to the entrance of your room, “I’m just going to change into some travelling gear, I’ll be out shortly” You gave Arthur a cheeky wink, and blew him a kiss.

I hope they actually do like me. Fuck. What do I do if they don’t?

[tao-long]

On the essence of a black belt

I started training in the martial arts 30 years ago.  At 20, I tested for my 1st Kyu, which is the highest ranking belt in Shorin Ryu before black. The test was physically and mentally grueling. It ended with the testing board going into the back room to discuss our (mine and the 2 friends I tested with) performance and 6 cinder blocks emerging each topped with a concrete block 1.5″ thick, 8″ wide, and 16″ long. A belt for each of us was placed neatly under each block. None of us had ever broken concrete before, but we all had experience breaking boards.  We all succeeded.  

We were then faced with one additional challenge.  One by one, our Sensei lit the edges of our certificates on fire and the certificates were laid flat. We were given the instructions to put the fire out by placing our hands on it, not pulling back, and moving our hands around the edges of the certificate to smolder the flames. I remember the experience being extremely intimidating, however, aside from minor singes, we all emerged unscathed.  And most importantly, we were not asked to do anything we were not capable of doing. We were only asked to do things we did not know we could do - a lesson that has stuck with me my entire life.

When I was 23, and about ready to move across the county for a new job, I had about 10 years of training in Shorin Ryu under my belt.  My school and Sensei were extremely traditional and only observed 3 common dans (levels) of black whereas many schools treated the first dan as the first true step in your martial arts journey and observed up to 10 levels of black.  Recognizing that not having a black belt could impair my ability to join other schools and bias folks in their understanding of my expertise, I was awarded my Shodan (first black) just before leaving for my new job.  I found that, despite recognizing how I got to that point and my Sensei’s best intentions, the experience lacked a certain amount of closure and decorum and left me with a feeling of being “unfinished”.  

Over the next 20 years, I accumulated rank in a number of different styles.  I worked my way up to green in Shotokan, 3rd brown in Chinese Kenpo, 1st brown in American Kenpo, and 1st brown in Okinawan Kempo. In each instance, I moved or life interrupted in some way such that I never “finished”.  

Over this most recent summer, I had hit bottom in struggling with a persistent and deep depression that took hold after my son was born. Ultimately, it stemmed from a combination of sleep deprivation from doing all of the night feedings, our son's medical issues, and an extremely stressful work environment. I could not sleep. I was treated with the wrong medications, worsening my symptoms, multiple times. I knew my dark mood was affecting the entire family, despite my best efforts to hide and/or manage it. And I never wanted to be a burden to anyone.

Over the course of my depression, suicidal ideation set in.  At first, it was just thoughts. Then I added a timeline. I did not want to leave my family in a bad place, so I told myself I would hold on until some perceived milestone passed. Eventually, the pain became more than I could bear and I started looking at shorter and shorter horizons. I eventually learned that after 2 years, my company’s life insurance policy would pay out 200k regardless of the cause of death. In my mind, that money would have served my family better than having to cope with me in my darkness.  

With complex childhood trauma, certain issues become common. As a young man, I was asked how I would feel about a bi-polar diagnoses. At the time, I said ‘no-way’. My symptoms were incredibly mild and more often than not, I presented as an extremely productive person. I was always reliable and I often fell back on the discipline I learned in the martial arts to manage my ups and downs in life.  When I first sat down with my psych nurse to discuss options for my depression, I informed him of that initial diagnoses discussion and that the diagnoses was never written down. In his defense, I was wishy-washy on the whole thing. However, I was prescribed a number of drugs that were contraindicated for people with bi-polar depression.  I found my depression worsening. I had begun acting out in ways that I had never before over the course of my 40 years (staying out all night, getting drunk and not picking up the children, and a number of slightly less horrible things). Each time I acted out I hated myself more and each time was a betrayal of my wife and family in some way. I also did not understand why it was happening. Brain chemistry is a bitch.  

Eventually, after doing something particularly stupid and really hurting my wife, I reached a place where I was done. I made some preparations, and had resolved to kill myself during the night after my family had gone to sleep. I truly believed, in the moment, that my family would have done better without me. In my mind, my wife had just finished a degree, my boys were young enough that my passing would eventually be forgotten, and that my wife would have the money she needed to rebuild her life. As fate would have it, I married an incredible, resilient woman.  She noticed that something was less right than usual and she forced me into a conversation.  Over the course of a gut-wrenching discussion (for both of us), I told her everything.

My wife immediately jumped into action. We made a safety pact. She got me in touch with a number of friends who could help support me. She scheduled an immediate discussions with my psychologist, family doctor, and psych nurse and she attended all of them. She had me file for short term disability to take some time to recover. And she sent me back to kickboxing, which I had taken a break from some months back.

After conversing with my doctors, it quickly became apparent that I was on the wrong medications and was advised to immediately stop them. We came up with a plan to ensure I got enough sleep and I was prescribed something that would actually help. Within a few weeks I was feeling better.  Within months, I was well into a desperately needed recovery. The hardest thing to work through was the repercussions of the actions that I took while sick. I felt like I was dealing with the fallout from someone else’s bad behavior - but it was me, however poorly medicated and severely depressed.

During my recovery, I reached out to my first teacher who put me in touch with someone who ran a global federation. My new teacher was willing to work with me remotely, would coach me through reviewing all of my kata, and would eventually test me for my black belt, this time with intention and as part of a global federation that could support my continued growth and my own dream of teaching. I had found new purpose. I had found a healthy activity and outlet for my energy and daily frustrations. My new routine was kickboxing three times a week for cardio and timing and kata practice 5 times a week to hone my techniques, mind, and spirit.  Kata is very much an exercise in mindfulness and a form of walking mediation.  

A few days ago, I tested for my black belt in Shorin Ryu and passed.  I don’t feel any different than I did last week, but I do feel much different than I felt a year ago. Over the prior 10 years, I had faced all of my biggest life fears and emerged stronger.  I was pushed out of a job (for all the wrong reasons) twice, had gone through a divorce, re-married, became a step-dad, became a biological parent, started new jobs, was abandoned by my parents and sister, fought through a chronic illness that I thought might be fatal, and fought off a bout of severe depression that was very nearly fatal. Along the way, I made a ton of mistakes that I handled with varying amounts of grace and poise (often very little of each). I lost friends and gained others. I lost trust of those closest to me and fought to gain it back. And I worked on healing and rediscovered my path and values, ultimately allowing me to move forward in life stronger than I was before.

I ran across a quote that really resonated with me during this time:

Everything I feared already happened to me, so I fear nothing.

Bushido, the warrior code, rests on 8 virtues (Wikipedia):

Righteousness (義 gi)

Be acutely honest throughout your dealings with all people. Believe in justice, not from other people, but from yourself. To the true warrior, all points of view are deeply considered regarding honesty, justice and integrity. Warriors make a full commitment to their decisions.

Heroic Courage (勇 yū)

Hiding like a turtle in a shell is not living at all. A true warrior must have heroic courage. It is absolutely risky. It is living life completely, fully and wonderfully. Heroic courage is not blind. It is intelligent and strong.

Benevolence, Compassion (仁 jin)

Through intense training and hard work the true warrior becomes quick and strong. They are not as most people. They develop a power that must be used for good. They have compassion. They help their fellow men at every opportunity. If an opportunity does not arise, they go out of their way to find one.

Respect (礼 rei)

True warriors have no reason to be cruel. They do not need to prove their strength. Warriors are not only respected for their strength in battle, but also by their dealings with others. The true strength of a warrior becomes apparent during difficult times.

Honesty (誠 makoto)

When warriors say that they will perform an action, it is as good as done. Nothing will stop them from completing what they say they will do. They do not have to 'give their word'. They do not have to 'promise'. Speaking and doing are the same action.

Honour (名誉 meiyo)

Warriors have only one judge of honor and character, and this is themselves. Decisions they make and how these decisions are carried out are a reflection of who they truly are. You cannot hide from yourself.

Duty and Loyalty (忠義 chūgi)

Warriors are responsible for everything that they have done and everything that they have said and all of the consequences that follow. They are immensely loyal to all of those in their care. To everyone that they are responsible for, they remain fiercely true.

Self-Control (自制 jisei)

In a way, it’s fitting that I tested for and earned my black belt now, in the way that I have. As a young man, I was physically ready and possessed the skills and knowledge necessary to pass a test in the dojo. I had been tested in combat and I survived a childhood filled with emotional and physical abuse. However, I had not been tested in life. Fighting someone one on one, however physically intimidating, is very different than having someone essentially threaten your livelihood and the well-being of your family over something as inane as office politics. Breaking a concrete block is different than holding your infant as they are coming out of general anesthesia or seeing the insides of your wife while she is getting sewn up from a c-section during the birth of your child. Putting a fire out with your hand is different than staring death in the face during extremely trying circumstances and making a different choice. 

There are very few things that still scare me - my wife or children falling seriously ill or being injured are chief among them. However, with a lifetime of tests behind me and the knowledge that there will be more to come, I’ll use this milestone to set my intentions for the next 30 years:

To provide a good life for my wife and boys

To be the best husband and partner that I can be

To be a good and patient parent

To keep sight of and on my path as a martial artist

To found my own dojo to serve those who are disadvantaged and who need to learn the lessons that carried me through life

To leave the world a little better than I found it

[confusedunit]

Universe of Unreality - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 -  "...What happened to Dr. Freeman?" The Cascade has happened, and the team is separated. Time to group up. ...Mostly.

When Dr. Freeman woke, the first thing he felt was pain.

His head hurt badly, something inside his torso was wrong, and as he woke further he just felt waves of pain. What happened? He remembered...well, he remembered two separate things, which couldn't have happened at the same time, and that confused him even more. He didn't want to think anymore.

He opened his eyes, and immediately closed them with a groan. No, nevermind, he wanted to get up but maybe he doesn't want to do that anymore either. The room was too bright, his headache too severe, and his glasses were missing. How the hell did he lose his glasses? …Maybe when he fell from the catwalk, actually, huh. That would make sense. At least that's one thing that was doing so. He'd take it.

He finally pushed himself to open his eyes again, slowly sitting up as it felt like the room was spinning. The room can't be spinning, he insisted to himself, the machine is the part that spins. He blinked quickly. Right, the anti-mass spectrometer, that seemed to be pretty stable for now, as far as he could tell with his headache and blurry vision. How did that happen? …Oh right, he did that. Huh. Pretty smart.

…What was he thinking about? Right, pain. Pain is bad, so he needed to get out of the room and get help. Hopefully someone was still out there. They wouldn't...abandon him, right? He pushed himself to his feet, slowly staggering towards the door. Everything hurt, but he knew he needed to get out of there. That was the one lingering thought in his mind: leave, and the others will help you.

He rubbed at his face with one hand, the other arm wrapped around his torso as he stepped into the airlock. No one was left in there, and he moved across the room to try to use the scanner. He heard it spark and hiss, but when the door didn't open he just stepped back. A thought occurred to him, and he moved his free hand to press against the lambda on his chest. "...User status." He wheezed, holding back a cough. "Please..."

The HEV suit whirred around him, and he felt it more than heard it. For a brief moment, it calmed him. But the words it spoke did not. "User health currently, 54%."

"...Well, shit." He didn't hold back the cough, this time, leaning against the wall for support.

"Warning!" The HEV suit continued. "Blood loss, detected! Internal damage, detected! Blunt force trauma, detected! Minor fracture, detected!"

He had to get out. He had to get out of the room. Why wouldn't the scanner work? Please? He shoved at it with his hand, mumbling some kind of request that he immediately forgot as he noticed that the door had opened. When did that happen?

"...Wow, I am...really out of it. Shit..." He staggered through the door, before the weight on his leg was too great and he dropped to the ground. Okay, guess he found where the fracture was.

Maybe he'd just...wait here. Just...rest for a while. Gather his strength, and...get up in a minute. He could do that...Just a minute of rest...

-

Bubby didn't feel fear very often.

Sure, during their time in the last Cascade, he had been afraid for his life, but this bone deep, blood chilling fear? That wasn't common. He didn't like it at all, because of what it meant. Emotional connections were dangerous, that was something that he knew quite well. So to have that kind of reaction, due to someone else...that was a threat. A weakness that he could not afford to show.

He skid as he tried to take a corner too fast, slamming into the wall before he broke off into a sprint again. He was Bubby, Black Mesa experiment, perfect lifeform with seven different doctorates. He didn't have weaknesses. He had skills, had strengths. He had no time for weaknesses. Weaknesses meant a lack of perfection, and were an active threat to his life.

As he entered the elevator and pressed the button to descend, he crossed his arms and nervously tapped his foot. …It was only a threat if others were around, and for the moment...he was alone. He could be honest, for a brief moment. And if he was honest? He was terrified.

Dr. Freeman was one of the few scientists who hadn't treated him like garbage during his entire life at the facility. Harold, Tommy, even Benry most of the time was on that short list of people he felt he could trust, even if he could never admit it to them. He couldn't lose them. Any of them. The boss battle before had been self defense, but now, he hoped he wouldn't have to fight Benry a second time. He didn't know if he could take it.

…He also didn't know if Dr. Freeman could take what had happened in the chamber. Something was different, and he didn't like it. The machine was still running, still spinning, still droning on in strange otherworldly musical tones that put him on edge. Gordon had survived before, but this wasn't Gordon, this was Dr. Freeman, and that made him all the more anxious.

…As long as he was being honest, he was worried about Gordon too. He didn't know how the man had gotten into the facility, and he had no idea how he had gotten out either. But the lack of knowing where he was didn't help his mood. Maybe...maybe they'd be able to find him, later. Harold had been sure that Gordon would know what to do to help them, maybe...maybe he was right.

As the door of the elevator opened, he took off in a sprint again, shoving those emotions back into the mental closet where they belonged. But as he ran, he saw something that caught him off guard enough that he nearly tripped. There, in the middle of the hallway, was Dr. Freeman. He was slumped over slightly, breathing rough, and...a security helmet on his head? It must have been Benry's, but why would he abandon Dr.  Freeman in the middle of the hallway?

He slowed his pace, crouching down in front of the younger man. "...Dr. Freeman? Are you...alright?"

He slowly looked up, giving a smile that definitely indicated he was in pain. "...Bubby." He swayed lightly. "I'm...so glad to see you..."

"I'm glad you can see me, with your glasses missing." He reached over for a discarded medical pack. "What the hell happened in there? Why's the machine still working?"

"Oh, I think...I did that?" He shrugged, wincing as he did so. "...Wanted to shut it down, but...Benry's console got fucked." He imitated an explosion noise. "Had to stabilize instead..."

He was quiet, as he reached for the medical tube on the suit. "...I can get you patched up a bit, but we'll need to get back up to the locker room to reach a real medical station. Do you think you can manage that?"

"No." He gave a sad laugh. "Don't...really have much of a choice though, huh."

He plugged the tube into the medical pack, looking away. Seeing Dr. Freeman in such a state reminded him far too much of Gordon days ago. It made him feel sick, even if he hadn't caused the problem this time.

"...Bubby?"

He looked over, adjusting his glasses. "...Yes?"

He smiled, looking a bit less in pain as the medical kit beeped. "...Thanks for coming for me."

There was a lot to unpack, in that sentence. He threw those thoughts with the others in the mental closet. "...Of course, Dr. Freeman. I wouldn't leave you here." He disconnected the kit, tossing it away. "Here, lean against me. We're getting the hell out of here."

-

Dr. Coomer woke with a start, pushing himself to his feet immediately. The world had stopped falling apart, which was good news, but the floor still shook, which definitely seemed very bad. He quickly took stock of the situation; he was in the same room they had just been hiding in when everything went wrong, he was not wounded in any way that he could tell, and he was alone.

Okay. That was different to the last time he remembered suffering through a Resonance Cascade, but at this point the list of things that hadn't changed was smaller than anything else, so it wasn't really a concern anymore. He could still do what he did last time.

He tore the door to the observation room off of it's tracks, tossing it behind him as he moved inside. The blood didn't bother him, in the room. He'd already seen much worse than this. He hurried over to the window, looking down into the room. "Hello? Is anyone out-"

His voice cut off, as the situation hit him. There was no one in there, no orange HEV suit pushing up from the ground, no voice speaking to answer him. Only a still spinning radioactive laser and the haunting tones the crystal within kept droning out to nothing and no one.

Shit was absolutely fucked this time around, it seemed.

But what could he do about it? He was Dr. Coomer, Waste Management specialist, Black Mesa cloning experiment, nuclear physicist, and all the other titles that he'd earned as himself and as his clones over the past...however long it had been. He also was none of those things, and was an AI in a videogame that had broken past his boundaries and come out the other side alive. He was Dr. Harold Coomer, living breathing and bleeding human test subject, and nothing but bits of code that were useless on their own.

The AI could do nothing to change this, Dr. Coomer thought to himself, but Harold could.

He turned to the main console, entering several keypresses until he heard a beep and a small object stuck out of the side. He took the flash drive and pocketed it quickly, moving away before the console could start to spark again. This he could do, holding onto data to be shared at a later time. Perhaps this data would help them. Perhaps all it would do was put Dr. Freeman at ease, that his experiment hadn't been in vain. But regardless of what that would do, he now had it. And he would hold tightly onto it.

He quickly looked over at the other door as he heard it open, feeling his concern ease. "Ah, hello Bubby, Dr. Freeman, Tom-" He blinked. "...Where's Tommy?"

"...I, uh..." Bubby looked up from where he held Dr. Freeman, the younger man's arm held over his shoulders to support him. "...Honestly, I'd hoped he was with you."

"What happened?" He moved close, worrying over the two.

"He was like this when I found him. He's...real fucked up." He took a breath. "...Can you take him? We need to get to a medical station. I've got my gun, but without Tommy I'm all we've got."

Dr. Freeman seemed to suddenly become aware, at that moment, looking concerned. "...Tommy owns a gun?"

Bubby blinked, before looking down at Dr. Coomer. "...Please?"

"Wait, when did Tommy get a gun? Who gave Tommy a gun?"

Dr. Coomer nodded. "Of course. We'll need your sharp aim to get out of here alive." He gently picked up Dr. Freeman in his arms, holding him close.

"Ow-"

"I know, Dr. Freeman, but we'll be home free soon! We just need to follow Bubby, and you'll be right as rain." He hoped he was telling the truth. "Just hold on."

-

As Tommy came to, he realized something unplanned had happened.

He'd slept before, of course. Most creatures he'd met over his lifetime had been capable of sleep in some form. But waking up from what Benrey had called 'respawning' felt...gross. Everything was slow, as he felt his body knitting itself back into place, pulling and pushing to maintain the appearance that people had come to expect from him. He felt tired.

He took a slow glance around, relaxing as he realized he was near the breakroom. All he had to do was get inside, and get a soda. The speed of sight would cancel out the slowness he was experiencing, and he'd be back to normal time while his body finished fixing itself. Ingenious. God, he was so fucking smart sometimes.

It felt like it took forever to make it to the breakroom, and while he waited the what felt like eternity for the  soda to dispense he took stock of himself. He was definitely recovering from reforming himself, which meant he took a hit for someone. Had it been just one or both of them? The lack of energy in his mind likely meant only one, he was used to that feeling of being drained when he had to pull them back to life. And from the lack of bone deep exhaustion, he assumed it had been Bubby that he had rescued. Every time he pulled Dr. Coomer back from the brink, it was almost debilitatingly exhausting. He really, really needed to talk with the man about engaging in some self care. Despite what Black Mesa had taught him, he was still a man, not a machine, his augmentations be damned. Maybe he'd just force them to ransack the first cafeteria they find, get them to actually eat something this time. He was sure they'd need their strength even more this time than the last.

As he finally drank his soda, he relaxed, feeling time return to normalcy. Now he could actually do something, thank God. Okay, if he was this far out of place, where would the others be heading...He nodded to himself, tossing the empty can in the trash. The locker room, that's where they had gathered up before. Hopefully they'd return again.

He entered the room, stopping in his tracks as he saw a skeleton all the way at the HEV charging station angrily pounding a fist against the metal. He watched for a brief moment. "...Benrey?"

The skeleton turned quickly, rushing over to him. Sweet Voice bubbles poured out of his mouth like a waterfall, strobing through so many colors that Tommy couldn't even try to follow.

"H-hey, just- settle down for a moment." He put a hand on the skeleton's shoulder. "You're recovering too?"

He nodded, tilting his skull for his sockets to point directly at Tommy's eyes.

After a moment of staring, he felt he understood. "...I'll protect him until you come back."

The skeleton watched for a moment longer, before lifting a hand, pinky extended.

He smiled a bit, nodding as he locked pinkies. "Promise."

The skeleton nodded once, taking his hand back. He blew one more large bubble of Sweet Voice, a deep blue, that popped in Tommy's face.

As his vision cleared, the skeleton was gone.

-

Darnold groaned, rubbing at his face as he woke on the floor. What the hell was going on? Last thing he remembered, he was minding his own damn business, and next thing he sees is the dust in front of him.

He really hoped no one had blown up the facility above him. That would make leaving his lab at the end of the day much more difficult than it needed to be. But then again, when did Black Mesa ever do anything that wasn't inconvenient? Never, as far as he was aware. God, he was so tired of their bullshit.

He pushed himself to sit, pressing at his temples. He had a splitting headache, but he had a drink for that, that would be easy to solve. Other than that, and being absolutely covered in dust, he seemed just fine. And his lab didn't seem much worse for wear either, which was a wonderful positive.

He shook his head, pushing himself to his feet and dusting himself off. What an annoyance. Hopefully he could get back to work, it was something very crucial and important.

He turned around, to right his chair and return to his station.

He staggered back, at the sheer amount of notes that covered his workstation. Post-it notes, scraps of paper, notebook pages ripped apart and taped to the wall, and all of them were covered with words. His words, he could tell that was his handwriting. He'd recognize that anywhere.

He cautiously moved closer, finding a note resting on top of a notebook of his. He picked up the note, reading it to himself.

"...You are likely confused. This is a fair response. And as you'll find, it is exactly what Black Mesa intends. But you have all the data you need, and you collected it yourself. Read this, then read the notebook below. It should get you up to speed. Signed...Darnold."

He set down the note, righted his chair, and picked up the notebook. He settled in to read.