#but yeah this is ten years of his life

[gravedigg]

Angel Eliou Argyros, 1989 - 1998

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

I haven’t said this enough recently but I’d like to take a moment to remind everyone…or idk…whoever sees this post…

That I love Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Thank you.

[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.

[redladydeath]

Okay, so last night I decided I wanted to do something with Vox and body horror and this story concept ended up manifesting in my brain. Massive CW for psychosis that's not actually psychosis, as well as self-harm and body horror.

Vox and Alastor meet in the 1940s while they're both doing electrical engineering work for the war effort. Vox is only 22, so he falls fast and hard for Alastor, who decides to use the younger man's infatuation with him to his advantage. One night while they're out drinking, Alastor convinces Vox to make a blood oath with him. He tells him it's just symbolic, but in reality, there's magic involved; if Alastor kills him, he'll get all the years Vox was supposed to live added to his own lifespan, which is dwindling. He lures Vox into the woods and tries to murder him, but is shot by a hunter who happens upon the struggle. Vox nearly loses an eye, but survives the encounter and is able to go on with his life, albeit with some pretty intense trauma.

Twenty years later, it's the 1960s. Vox has been a successful television presenter for 10~15 years now. He's rich and is married with children, but is less than an ideal husband/father. When he's not at work, he's usually with Valentino, a young male prostitute who he's been having a secret affair with for the past year or two. The two of them are currently somewhere between a sugar daddy/baby arrangement and a legit relationship. Vox is overall pretty content with his life and hasn't thought about Alastor in years. That is, until things start to change.

At first, it just seems like a bad cold; his joints are stiff and he has the chills constantly, but that's nothing too unusual, and he continues going about his daily life. But then the delusions start. Vox begins hearing things whenever a radio is on– words and phrases that shouldn't be coming out of it, said in a familiar tone of voice. He starts seeing shadows moving just out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look at them, they're gone. When Vox looks in the mirror or watches clips from his show, there's something different– uncanny– about his own eyes that makes him feel like he's looking at a stranger. It must be stress, he thinks; he's been working himself too hard.

But things only get worse. Vox's body is stiff and jerky and cold– suddenly very cold to the touch, although no one other than Vox can feel it. Food and drink and cigarettes lose their taste. His emotions feel muted– all except fear. He starts hearing this loud, irritating humming when he's in the studio which makes it hard for him to work. People are starting to get worried. He's acting erratically, asking if they can hear or feel things that simply aren't there. His wife thinks he's building towards a nervous breakdown, but Vox knows that's not true. Something's happening to him, something no one can perceive but him.

Things continue to deteriorate. Vox thinks he can hear metal creaking when he moves. His face won't show up on camera anymore; the footage always ends up damaged for reasons no one can explain. He smashes the family radio in front of his kids when he clearly hears Alastor's voice coming out of it, taunting him. He asks Valentino, who hasn't even been to church in the past decade, to connect him with his childhood priest because he thinks he's being possessed and wants an exorcism. If the Protestant God won’t help him, maybe the Catholic one will. It still doesn't work.

Things come to a head one night when Vox, desperate to prove to himself and everyone else that he's not crazy, takes a knife and cuts deep into the hand he used to make the pact with Alastor all those years ago. He cuts and cuts and cuts until finally– finally– he sees it: metal and wires and no blood. He was right. He tries to show his wife but only succeeds in scaring her out of her wits. He flees the house and takes the family car. He needs to go see Valentino, show him, ask him for help. He crashes the car into a lamppost while trying to drive with one hand. A cashier working late in a nearby electronics store tries to help him, bringing him into the shop to wait while he calls an ambulance.

When the cashier leaves him alone to go make the call, Vox hears it again. He hears Alastor's voice coming out of a radio, telling him that his time is up. He's been living on borrowed (or rather, stolen) time for the past ten years and now it's time to come join him, down where they both belong. Vox can feel his "bones" cracking, his skin stretching and tearing. He can't hear anything except Alastor's voice alongside the blaring static emitting from all the TVs and radios in the store. He's dying he's dying he's dying– until he stumbles into a fusebox and the whole store is engulfed in an electrical fire.

When the firemen dig through the rubble, they never find a human body.

[widowshill]

— But it's almost midnight. — Oh, that's the point! At the stroke of twelve, he turns into Dracula. C'mon, Vicki – he won't bite.

pose ref.

[nartml]

i miss my little brother

[im-smart-i-swear]

Ok so Buddy works in space McDonalds right? Does that mean others have a job somewhere as well?

ill admit that in the comic i used space mcdonalds mostly for comedic effect........ i mean they propably worked at a space fast food restaurant at some point, but it definetely wasnt their only job!

okay so after eeneks unexpected family reunion the clones, eenek and zora all decide to stay on znahors ship for the time being(it gets a little cramped but its bearable), and they just kinda start going from place to place after that?? before picking them all up znahor already was doing essentialy that, anyway- he traveled from planet to planet, occasionally helping the locals and then fucking off elsewhere. so thats what they do! they jump from one star system to the next, never staying anywhere for long, trying to not bring any unwanted attention to themselves, and they get by mostly by doing random odd jobs(some more legal than others..) and stuff.

they all(ecept for taka bc hes like 10) get their fair share of shitty jobs, but they dont really have a choice, do they? the war is over, sure, but obviously such a long conflict leaves an impact on the world. the chaos is on one hand a blessing, bc an odd bunch like three galrans and a gaggle of humans dont bring much attention in a sea of refugees, but it also means that sometimes things get messy, and making ends meet is difficult.

out of the clones, buddy has the most experience and knowledge about how alien worlds function, so they often end up with jobs that require communication and frequent interaction with other people- basically what im trying to say is that they work customer service. a lot. they survive it by remembering how infiuriating diplomacy was and telling themselves that hey! at least them fucking something up wont put the fate of the universe into jeopardy this time!! stickbug often works alongside them, but he hates interacting with customers even more that buddy does and tries to avoid this kind of job as much as he can(my man spent too much time trying to please everyone in his childhood and is OVER IT). i mean all of them get a customer service job from time to time but bud is the one whos least terrible at it

im not sure if the others have any preferred jobs tbh, but the idea of soup trying competetive fighting at some point would be interesting to explore i think........

[m1zumono]

‘alright, when were you gonna tell me about this?’

‘we didn’t know what it meant.’

‘alright, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me.’

‘call you? are you kidding me? dad, i called you from lawrence, alright? sam called you when i was dying. i mean, getting you on the phone? i got a better chance of winning the lottery.’

‘you’re right. although i’m not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you’re right. i’m sorry.’

[neverendingford]

.

[canisonicscrewyou]

she’s insane she’s a wet cat of a human being she’s got daddy and mommy issues up to here she’s pathetic she’s everything she’s a breakthrough case she’s in hiding she’s forever mourning she’s a mom she’s got trauma she doesn’t even know how to find a therapist for she loves her friends and she secretly loves attention and if one things for certain she’s never stepping foot inside of the TARDIS ever again (a lie)

[monstermonstre]

anyway just went to the barber and it was so funny how he kept going on about how long my hair was (it didn't even go to my shoulders) and how it didn't suit me and how better it was now that he had cut it shorter not realising i used to be an attractive woman with hair down the middle of my back

[cloysterbell]

Just rewatched The Runaway Bride and I can confirm that Love Don’t Roam still absolutely fucks but in other news look at this fuckin gif I found deep in my collection

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

And now for a brief interruption on all my Wingfeather posts because I rewatched the first two episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender last night and I had some thoughts about my boy Zuko.

Probably someone has pointed this out already but that’s never stopped me before so let’s go:

So the first few episodes of a show are always very important for showing us the basics of what a character is like and Avatar does that well both subtly and overtly. It is interesting then that Zuko, who has been being set up as a villain, does something very not-villainous in episode 2.

So Zuko shows up on his warship and knocks a hole in the Southern Water tribe’s home and storms out demanding to see the Avatar. He’s trying to be intimidating and commanding.

But he doesn’t actually hurt anyone? Like, he whips fire out at the villagers but it doesn’t even singe any of them (we see Iroh do this earlier too btw, he literally shoots fire at Zuko’s face but it doesn’t touch Zuko, and the fact that Zuko doesn’t even flinch at that after what he’s been through is a whole ‘nother post). Sokka attacks him (multiple times) and Zuko doesn’t even fight him back, just defends himself by blocking/disabling all Sokka’s attacks. The only time we see him look like he’s going to attack anyone there is when Sokka’s boomerang whacks him in the head, but even then his anger is solely targeted on Sokka, who may be inept and untrained but is still a warrior and has been attacking Zuko this whole time so he’s been asking for a fight, Zuko’s just finally taking the bait. (he also never orders his soldiers to hurt anyone/search/attack)

When Aang shows up he does the same thing. He attacks Aang specifically, and while his fire flies out and scares the villagers he’s still not trying to hurt them, he just wants Aang. And when Aang asks if Zuko will leave if he goes with him Zuko nods in agreement.

And then he does it. Zuko leaves. He doesn’t go back on his word when he gets what he wants, he doesn’t burn the village to the ground, heck, he never even ransacked it looking for the Avatar! And like, I need to stress here that if Ozai or Azula had been there they would have razed the village to the ground for harboring the Avatar. From how quickly he accepts Aang’s offer, this thought never even occurs to Zuko.

To bring this back to my original point, the show is trying to tell us here that Zuko isn’t really a villain. He’s an antagonist, because he’s a source of conflict for the protagonists, but he’s not a true villain (which is why we get Zhao in the very next episode). Zuko just desperately wants to please his father and go home and he’s willing to go to extremes to accomplish that- but he’s not inherently a terrible person either. And I think it’s really important that they showed us that in episode 2.

Side note because I’m sure someone will mention it: Yes, I know Zuko attacked Kyoshi Island later and did burn it down, but it was a much bigger settlement and it had actual warriors to protect it instead of being solely comprised of women, children, elderly and two teenagers like the SWT was. It’s the difference between a battle and a massacre- Kyoshi Island was a battle, the SWT would have been a massacre.

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

Haurchefant......

[solitarysurvival]

jake and his #trauma is really like, so boxed up and buried in the backyard that he does not even a little bit remember where he put it, or the extent of what would be inside if he were to open it. like bro has held off the complete emotional and mental meltdown due to scheduling conflicts and also no longer perceives pain in a normal or healthy way and he is fairly sure he should feel grateful to be alive but the thing is he is not and,

[rainbowsunshinegeesus]

ive been secretly playing bass for like a month and my family has no idea