#there's also one for dr kleiner if you even care

[soldiertransgender]

tsp fans know that there's a stanley parable announcer pack in DOTA 2 (?) right

[decks-writing-blog]

Want You to be Happy

Summary: Alyx overheard a rumor about her father and Kleiner's relationship. It bothers her.

~

“Of course I want Dad to be happy,” Alyx said as she looked up from the Combine terminal she was supposed to be taking apart for study. Upon hearing of this opportunity she’d been so excited to rush over and learn anything and everything she could from it. But then she’d just had to go and be nosy about lame gossip and now couldn’t focuson it.

Dog, standing guard lest the terminal still have something in it that alerted the Combine to it being tampered with and thus calling them here, looked back at her in return but of course couldn’t respond. He didn’t need to respond though so Alyx continued, lowering her tools to her lap.

She switched to a whisper, being overheard venting and rambling to Dog was always embarrassing but especially today she didn’t want anyone else to hear her. “And it’s just a rumor anyway, it might not even be true. And if it is then… it’s fine. Isaac…” Damn it. Everyone called him Dr. Kleiner so she should too in professional settings because she was a professional part of the Resistance. … Dad called him Isaac though or Izzy, sometimes even in professional settings. He was the only one. “Dr. Kleiner’s great. He basically helped raise me anyway so if he and Dad are dating then… it should be fine.

“It doesn’t feel fine though. It feels like… like… I don’t know. Like he’s replacing Mom or something. And I know that’s dumb. It’s been more than ten years by now, we’ve all moved on, right? … I think.”

Dog turned all the way around to face her. His head was titled in that way he always did when she rambled at him. He was listening. How much he understood, none of them, not even Dad who’d built him, were entirely sure of. He was really good at listening though.

Alyx stood, still clutching her screwdriver. It really wasn’t hers but Dad’s or Isaac’s. Though the two of them shared and borrowed tools from each other so much the distinction didn’t even matter. Regardless of the source of the rumor of their romantic involvement, they were for sure close. As far as she could remember, they always had been. Whether that made it more or less likely to be true was hard to say.

“I was barely five when Mom died so… maybe I shouldn’t even care that much, right? All my memories of her are pretty foggy at best.” There was a non-zero chance she wouldn’t even remember Mom’s face if not for the family photo Dad brought everywhere they went. “I have more memories of missing her and being sad about her being dead than stuff we did together when she was alive. But… I still wish she was here.”

Would she have been proud of Alyx? Probably, right? Dad was. It would’ve been nice to hear her say it though. And it would’ve been even nicer if her and Dad were still a constant in her life. Even if the Combine had still invaded, it would’ve been easier to have both of them still here, still together. And one more Black Mesa scientist surely would’ve been a boon to the Resistance as well.

Dog took a couple steps towards her, closing the distance. He made a small sound as he titled his head the other way. Alyx reached up a hand to pet him. He leaned into it as if he enjoyed it. Even without words he could sometimes be the single most comforting being in her life.

“Thanks Dog, I appreciate you being here for me. And… I know I’m being a little unfair. I want Dad to be happy, Dr. Kleiner too. Happiness isn’t exactly common these days, you know? So if they’re happy together then…” She trailed off with a sigh. “I just wish they could both be happy without… I don’t know. Without this being a thing.” It would’ve been easier if they remained solely good friends. Which actually, they might be. It was just a rumor, overheard partially on accident.

Dog made another sound that might’ve been him also recognizing it as just a unproven rumor, perhaps even him trying to covey that thought. Probably not but she could pretend like his sounds meant things.

“You’re right, I should talk to Dad about it, huh? Instead of just assuming what other people say about him and who he might or might not be dating holds much truth.”

Dog nodded, apparently in agreement.

With a deep breath, Alyx turned to face the terminal again. Perhaps now that she had a plan to deal with all that later, she could focus better. This was a very exciting opportunity after all.

~

As leader of the Resistance, no matter where they ended up headquartered, Dad always got an office even when he said he didn’t want one. The compromise was that he got a small room, usually off the main lab area, dedicated to him. Despite claiming he didn’t want it, he did always use it which was why he never put up much of an argument about it. Thus finding time and space to talk to him alone was always easy.

He sat at the cluttered desk, looking up from whatever he was working on as Alyx entered. “Alyx, good to see you.”

Alyx closed the door behind her. “Hey, Dad.”

“How’d your mission go?”

“It went well, actually. I brought back as much of the terminal as we could after making sure there weren’t any trackers in it of course. But uh… before I got to it, I spent some time with some of the Resistance folk who were guarding the area. And I may have accidentally overheard a conversation some of them were having about you and uh… Isaac.”

Dad frowned slightly but didn’t interrupt.

“Is it true are two are… dating? ‘Dating’ isn’t really the word they used but it’s close enough I think.” She couldn’t met his eyes at that as her gaze instead shifted to the picture on his desk. It was turned to face him, thus she couldn’t see it from this angle, but she knew what it was; her, Mom, and Dad, taken a couple years before the resonance cascade.

Dad let out a heavy breath as he leaned back in his chair. “Oof, I suppose this conversation was bound to happen eventually with all the rumors going around. I should’ve talked to you about it before letting you overhear something. I’m sorry.”

“So it is true then?”

He stood so he could walk around to stand in front of his desk, putting them closer to eye level even if he was still a good head or so taller. “Before I answer, let me clarify that I will always love your mother. Nothing will ever change that, understand?”

“Um… understood.” Perhaps that shouldn’t be as much of a comfort as it was. Dad still wore his wedding ring after all thus presumably still had some kind of attachment to her memory even if they didn’t talk about her much – it was hard to find time to with so much else going on. But it was good to have it confirmed and reinforced though. Dad still loved Mom, he wasn’t forgetting her.

“I will always love your mother and I will always love you, Alyx, no matter what happens or how I feel about anyone else , okay?”

“Yeah okay, but… well, I sense a ‘but’ coming. You love Mom and me but…” She gestured to him.

He sighed. “Isaac has always been a very dear friend to me. There was a time in college when I had to choose between him and your mother. I’m sure you can guess who I chose. But there is a ‘but’. Things are different now and… we’re not involved or even dating. We just talked about it. Barney overheard part of it and you know how he is so now half the Resistance thinks we’re involved somehow. I wanted to talk to you about it first though. I just… haven’t found the time.”

“To be fair, it’s a kind of awkward thing to talk about. And we’ve been busy getting ready to break into City 17.” It was far from the first time they’d moved but this was a major deal because for once the move wasn’t to run but to get into a better position to do more.

“Yes, true. It’s been brought up now though so… Alyx, sweetie, if Isaac and I were to experiment with being romantically involved, would that be all right with you? If you’d prefer your old man stay loyal only to your mother, that’s fine too. Both him and I are too old to let those feelings or having talked about them make anything awkward or uncomfortable. Not to mention, we’re both a little too invested in the fighting the Combine thing to have a big split anyway. So don’t worry ‘bout us. More than anything I want you to be happy, okay?”

Just a few hours ago Alyx had been agonizing over this. If asked then she’d have had an easy answer; ‘No, stay loyal to Mom’. But she’d had time to calm down and think about it and had gotten reassurance that even despite this, Dad still loved Mom and always would. It was possible to love more than one person, right? And it wasn’t just about Alyx and Dad, Mom would’ve wanted him to be happy too. She’d have wanted both of them to be happy even if it did have to be without her. And happiness was so rare these days.

“If you want time to…” Dad began before Alyx interrupted.

“I want you to be happy too. I’m all right with it if it’ll make you happy. And uh… Isaac’s basically already kind of my step-dad anyway, right? He helped raised me.” It could be argued that he was still helping raise her but she was starting to near seventeen, basically an adult. “So not much really changes.” It’s not like they had time to go gallivanting off on a big romantic adventure. They were too busy leading the Resistance. That would remain the focus, whatever love and happiness they found in between that wasn’t likely to affect much else.

He stepped forward to pull her into a hug. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” It did still bother her a little but more than that, she loved both of them and wanted them to happy too. In time it would likely grow less weird. Maybe it would even be good for all three of them.

[black-mesa-slut-voice]

YOUR BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO CLASSIC HEADCRAB DOMESTICATION

Click below to start reading this comprehensive document!

Note: All of this is written purely for fun by an aspiring zoologist who simply loves genetics and speculative biology! This is only mildly inspired by source material, and isn’t completely indicative of canon. A lot of these things are just speculative or made up for fun!

If you want to use any of this information for your own headcanons, OCs, or fanart, you are 100% welcome to use it, though I would like to be credited!

If you would like to see more things based on these headcanons, ocs, or simply more things or art I’ve done on this subject, check out my #headcrabguide tag on my blog!

HISTORY

In the wake of the 7 hour war and the proceeding Combine invasion, there was a large amount of casualties. However, not all of these casualties were humans. Animals took a lot of hits as well, and in the remaining 20 years before liberation, the resulting environmental tolls as well as continued extermination caused this sixth mass extinction- arguably just as bad or worse than the meteorite that killed the dinosaurs. Nearly 75% of land animals and over 68% of marine animals went extinct in this time frame. 

The most notable toll was on human-domesticated animals. Because of the Combine influence, any animal that was reliant on human care was almost immediately wiped out, both purposefully and inadvertently as humans were no longer available to care for them. All livestock species and most pet species were completely eliminated, leaving humans with few, if no animal companions.

Humans, however, are a very social species, and are naturals at befriending things that are arguably dangerous. Wolves, cats, and even less common creatures such as foxes, snakes, and spiders were kept and tamed and bred for companionship and work despite their danger. When the Combine forces were driven off and humans were once again allowed to practice the art of domestication, they were left with very few options. Some birds, a few select felines, insects, and alien species were nearly all they had to work with. 

And so, work they did. 

Headcrabs, despite their use as a weapon by the Combine, were one of the first alien species to actually be domesticated. It is theorized that this is because a number of factors- first is that the one of the leading rebellion leaders, Dr. Isaac Kleiner, actually possessed one name “Lamarr”, putting the idea in many people’s heads that they could be tamed and kept. The second was their abundance. They were easy to find and acquire, and despite their danger, could easily be captured. Third, they are very easy to selectively breed and mass produce. Lastly, it was quickly discovered that headcrabs are much more intelligent and social than previously anticipated. 

In the wild of their home planet, Xen, headcrabs actually had a very complex social system and niche. They formed large groups- called casts- that staked out swathes of territory. The leader of the group was called a gonarch. The gonarch was a large, heavily mutated headcrab that was the sole reproducer, similar to that of queen bees or ants. Though it was large, fast, and capable of defending itself, it lost it’s ability to easily feed itself, as it’s mouth became much smaller to make room for the reproductive sac. 

Because of that, the rest of the cast was tasked with hunting and feeding the gonarch in exchange for protection and reproduction. The smaller, albeit still mature headcrabs would go out, and attempt to hunt down anything it could- smaller things were eaten or fed to the gonarch, and larger things that had the right shaped heads could be ‘coupled’ with, fusing the headcrab to it’s host and creating a gonome. Though gonomes were more powerful and capable of hunting larger prey and defending the rest of the cast, in turn, they lost their ability to reproduce. Thus, most casts had one gonarch, several gonomes, and many crabs.

Gonomes could come in any species that was large enough for a headcrab to couple with- and is perhaps why headcrabs were actually so easy to tame. With the right social encouragement, a headcrab can easily recognize humans and other larger creatures as being part of their cast, and regard them in the same way they would a gonome- with social respect and friendliness. 

With a few generations of selective breeding, headcrabs quickly became much more docile due to their natural instinct of accepting oddly-shaped creatures as part of their cast.

CARE AND HANDLING

Despite the generations of breeding leading to a much more friendly, domesticated headcrab, care must still be exercised with them in regards to handling. They are very similar to cats in the fact that, despite their domestication, they can still be wild at nature and will often hunt smaller creatures, and are capable of harming someone if provoked. 

Also similar to cats are their sense of community. Like mentioned, headcrabs can be trained and raised to see certain people- usually a household- as part of their cast. However, this presents a problem with strangers entering their ‘territory’. If not properly socialized, headcrabs can be quite aggressive to anyone they don’t recognize as part of their cast. This is beneficial for those who don’t expect anyone, or want a ‘guard dog’ type of pet- but can be detrimental to those who have friends or family that may come to visit. 

Though headcrabs lack eyes, they are not completely blind. They have subdermal eyes located near the base of their front legs, which can detect lights and shapes. That, combined with their ability to ‘taste’ the air with specialized glands, are how they recognize others and their environment. 

If you plan on having someone visit, it may be best to have something that smells like the visitor on hand for a few weeks beforehand, so your headcrab can become used to their scent. 

For headcrabs that don’t mind activity, you can also take your headcrabs on walks or trips into public to get them accustomed to having strange scents and people around them, leading them to be less aggressive, even at home. Of course, it is always a good idea to have proper restraint for any flighty, aggressive, or even headcrabs that have never been socialized in public before. 

Another good way to prevent injury is physical modification. For headcrabs that simply are rowdy or aggressive- or even just as a precaution for the most well behaved crab- there are several things you can do to prevent injury.

When headcrabs first started being tamed, the most common method of modification was ‘debeaking’. Despite it’s name, it’s actually a misnomer, as headcrabs don’t have beaks, only radial rings and fangs. ‘Debeaking’ was the process of removing all 18 fangs on the underside of the crab surgically, usually when young. This prevents them from growing back and completely eliminates the risk of being bitten.

However, this practice was quickly upturned under the argument of it being inhumane. While the headcrab often doesn’t suffer because of this, as their fangs are only used for gripping prey and not eating it- if done incorrectly, it can be painful in the long run.

One of the slightly more common methods are ‘fang caps’. Similar to claw caps for cats, fang caps are a small, plastic cap that can be fitted over the fangs of a headcrab. With a small amount of specialty glue, they become long-lasting solutions for injury prevention with no physical harm to your crab. Despite the seemingly perfect upsides, there are also precautions you must take. It is possible for a fang cap to become loose or fall off either through being applied incorrectly or simply from wear and tear. Thus, you must always monitor the state of the caps to ensure there are no accidents.

The third option, and the least used, is clipping. Though it does not remove the whole fang, clipping refers to filing down/clipping each fang individually so it’s not sharp. However, this is generally not only difficult, but it’s actually uncomfortable for the crab, and they can grow back fairly quickly.

For headcrabs that are properly either defanged or capped, there is little to no risk of being bitten. If a properly cared for headcrab does attack or try to mount your head, it can simply be pulled off, as there’s nothing allowing it to grip onto it’s ‘prey’.

However, you must still be mindful of the long, sharp front claws. Unlike the fangs, these do not have nerves until very deep in- and thus, can be slightly trimmed and filed with no discomfort on your crab’s end. 

FEEDING

Headcrabs- despite their predatory nature- are not only social, but omnivores as well. This fact comes as a surprise to some people who look at them and compare them to things such as spiders. 

Indeed, though a headcrab is most definitely a predator, they’re more opportunistic than anything. They will often eat nearly anything they wander across, including small creatures, decaying corpses, fruits, fungi, algaes and lichens, and very occasionally some vegetables and leafy matter. 

Most of what they eat is less dependent on taste, and more of their actual physical ability to eat it. Because of their hyper specialized mouthparts, they are unable to chew. Instead, they scrape at the soft parts of whatever is fitted into their mouth with a specialized, rough ring around the inner mouth fitted with a bunch of extremely small ‘teeth’, similar to that of a lamprey. Thus, they can only eat what they can scrape off with that, and cannot chew bones or anything hard or with too much roughage. It’s non uncommon to see a headcrab take something into it’s mouth, such as a small bone or rock covered in lichen- ‘suck’ it clean, and spit it back out. 

Thus, headcrabs can be fed nearly anything that they can fit into their mouth. Of course, that is within reason- it’s always good to look up what is or isn’t toxic to your crab, as well as feed them specialty diets to make sure they get all of the proper nutrients they need without over or underfeeding.

The most common way to feed is with commercial ‘crabcakes’- rounded nutrient blocks resembling a large piece of kibble, that comes in several sizes to fit in any crab’s mouth. Once given, a headcrab will take about a few hours to eat it, and don’t need to be fed again for another few days, or up to a week, depending on activity and how many supplemental treats are given in between. Though it’s perfectly fine to feed them only cakes or only prepared food, the most enriching and balanced option is feeding the cakes once a week, with smaller, daily ‘treats’ of different varieties being given. 

Some of these treats can include:

Pieces of meat (any type, cooked or raw)

Small, whole prey (commercially prepared mice or chicks)

Whole or sliced fruits (apple, pear, etc)

Tubers (potato, sweet potato, carrot)

Hard vegetables / stalks (chopped celery, broccoli, etc)

Mushrooms (anything edible by humans is edible for your crab)

As a special treat, sometimes you can replace a cake with a large ‘prey’ item that would also take several hours to eat. Some examples are:

Large whole prey (Whole birds, large chunks of meat, antlion grubs, etc) 

Large fruits (Melons of any type are a favorite)

Large vegetables (heads of cabbage, heads of broccoli, etc)

Of course, any meat-based items are going to be chosen over non-meat items if offered.

BREEDING

Breeding headcrabs, unlike many other creatures, is generally not something that can be done unless you are a committed hobbyist. Namely because normal headcrabs- even if they are mature- are incapable of breeding whatsoever. The only type of headcrab that can reproduce are the gonarch, the heads of the cast. All headcrabs are biologically ‘male’ until they transform into a gonarch, or lost reproductive organs entirely as a gonome.

Originally a gonarch was produced when there simply wasn’t a gonarch in the group. The largest, strongest individual would then begin to grow and mutate, similar to how many fishes can mutate into a larger or opposite gender if needed. 

However, this ability was removed from the headcrab- along with the ability to create proper gonomes- by the combine when they were being used as weapons. Though headcrabs were efficient at taking care of humans, anything larger and more dangerous threated to get out of hand; the combine didn’t want them reproducing out of control and becoming another threat. Incidentally, this is also when their eyes became subdermal as part of a side effect of gene altering.

Because of this, there are only two ways to breed a headcrab. One, and the most common, is to create an artificial gonarch sack. Blueprints were taken from the combine after their defeat that allowed humans to replicate the same technology that allowed them to mass-produce them before. 

Artificial gonarch sacs are similar to ‘ghosts hearts’ where they are pseudo-biological, and accept any DNA put into it. Thus, you can insert DNA from any crab to become the ‘gonarch’ or ‘female’ DNA, and either get the smaller male to ‘mount’ the artificial gonarch in a specialized area, or do the male portion artificially as well.

The artificial womb also lets you control how many offspring are produced, as normally a gonarch can produce hundreds of crabs from each successful mating- too many, often, to properly take care of.

Much less common is the artificial transformation of a true gonarch. 

Any headcrab can be stimulated to turn into a gonarch with the injection of artificial hormones that trigger the process. It will then take a few weeks to a few months for the crab to transform.

However, this is not recommended for a number of reasons. 

First, they are large. They need much more than a house for their territory- they often need several acres, and if it’s deemed unsuitable for a nest, she will refuse to breed and become agitated. 

Second, they are very territorial, aggressive, and dominant. If you were a gonome to them before, you still are- which means, in headcrab ranks, she is now above you, socially. Even the most docile crab becomes an aggressive, protective creature who will defend her young and territory with her life. Combine that with their massive size, they are extremely dangerous, even to a professional. 

Third, it is very hard to regulate the exact breeding. She will only accept other headcrabs from her cast, and if she deems them unfit, will promptly kill them. And even once they are bred, they can produce several hundred offspring- of which it is very hard to take care of, and even harder to take away from her due to her protective nature. 

Lastly, she cannot feed by herself. She requires being fed specialized food through specialized apparatus- and a lot of it. 

It’s expensive, costly, and overall dangerous. Thus, artificial gonarch sacs are generally the go-to. 

COLORS AND PATTERNS

Just like with previous animals that were domesticated, such as cats, dogs, and goldfish, after a few generations of breeding they began to exhibit unique colors and patterns. After enough time, unique, recognized colors, coats, and even breeds came to be official recognized. 

It was made even easier because breeding for exact genes was made simple by means of artificial sacs. Thus, headcrabs come in a vast array of colors and patterns, some even unique to certain subspecies.

The most common colors are pale, albeit warm shades of tans, yellows, and browns. In more rare cases, they can take a more green, purple, or red tint. 

Tan, ash, sand, and flaxen were the first recognized distinct colors that were bred onto headcrabs. Chocolate and umber quickly arose from the original tan, with rose following not far behind. When rose was cross-bred back with umber, it resulted in lilac.

Golden arose when sand crabs were bred for vibrancy, and sorrel was the result of a cross of golden and umber. 

Flaxen gave way to wheat, and then swamp when bred for the cooler, greenish mutation. 

Patterns, too, were something that quickly came about, not long after the first distinct colors began to be recognized. 

The first patterns that arose were speckled, striped, and Siamese (named after the similar patterned cat).

Fawned came from a recessive mutation that reversed the pigment cells that caused the spotting pattern on speckled crabs, making them appear lighter instead of darker. Pearled arose when it was cross-bred back with speckled- which usually resulted in speckled, but sometimes in pearled. Because fawned is recessive, the only way to get fawned is to breed with another fawned or a pearled. Breeding a fawned and a speckled results in only speckled or pearled.

Snowshoe, similarly, rose from the same recessive mutation, though this time with Siamese. Similar rules apply; though an ‘in between’ similar to pearled does not exist, as they simply neutral each other out. 

Capped rose from Siamese, though it looks similar to bullseye. Bullseye actually came from a very hyper specific mutation of smoked, and is one of the most rare patterns, much moreso than capped or smoked.

Striped crabs are what were bred into both smoke and ticked- with smoke being an increased level of pigment, and ticked being a decreased level. 

Marbled is another very rare pattern with dubious origins. Some say it’s a standalone mutation, though others say it originated with smoke, bullseye, and even speckled. However, none of these are confirmed.

Of course, all of the patterns and colors on the charts above are not every single example- there are many more sub-variations of colors and patterns of each type, these are just the main, conformed and recognized ones. They also don’t include any non-recognized crossbreeds or mixes of colors or patterns that aren’t an established record.

UNIQUE BREEDS

Even moreso than recognized colors and patterns are unique breeds of crabs. Though, again, not even breed pictured above are all of them, these are just some of the more noteworthy examples. 

Truthfully, nearly all crabs are going to be your standard breed, and not one of the ones pictured. Unless it is either obvious or has had a genetics test, it is safe to assume your crab is a standard.

Two of the most recognized sub-species are the racer and the false poison. These were both bred to be inspired by the combine-created species, the “fast” headcrab and the poison headcrab. Their target audience both began for people who liked them in theory or as an aesthetic, but lacked the funds, ability, or want to deal with the much more dangerous and aggressive ‘true’ versions.

Because they were intended for war, fast headcrabs and poison headcrabs lack almost all social aspects that standards do, are much more aggressive, flighty, wild, and dangerous. Not to mention to potent neurotoxin than poison headcrabs excrete, and the vicious teeth of fast headcrabs. Nowadays theyre both often bred for show or work, but we aren’t focused on them here, simply the standard crab.

Pancakes are some of the harder to recognized subspecies, due to their generally unassuming appearance. They’re named so because they’re typically ‘flatter’ than the normal headcrab, tend to range in the golden-sandy color range, and are described as being ‘soft and sweet’. True to that, that is the original purpose that pancakes were bred for- they’re small, lazy, hyper-friendly headcrabs that almost never attempt to show any signs of aggression unless severely pushed. They’re great for households with kids, or simply people who want a slightly less high-maintenance crab.

They can come in nearly any pattern and color, but again, tend to be in the warm, golden-yellow tone range.

Hunchbacks are a much more narrow breed, since it's recessive, and tend to be not as desirable for no other fact than their appearance. Still, that are amazingly unique. Because of the rarer, recessive nature, they generally only swamp/wheat/greenish colors, and only come in a narrower range of patterns, including speckled, smoked, striped, ticked, and marbled. Though, because of the fact that speckled exist, pearled and fawned theoretically could too- there’s simply yet to be documented evidence of a successful fawned mutation.

Nubbed is another breed caused by a rare mutation that has been successfully bred into a small population. It’s very easy to spot because of it; the mutation clearly causing their front claws to be short, or ‘nubbed’. Nubbed can come in any color or pattern, though they tend to follow the standard/less extreme patterns and colors. This is because it was because of a mutation that actually happened really early in domestication, before a lot of colors or patterns were even bred, and is a recessive mutation making it hard to breed with rarer colors and patterns. 

Saddlehorns are an extremly unique and very specialized breed. They’re definitely recognizable by their concave back and the nub near the base of their front claws. They also have a pattern that's unique to only saddlehorns- which is the 'cow spotted' pattern. However, it isn’t just random spots. Though they do have large splotches, they always have a band going around their middle as well. They can come in any pale color, and the markings are usually in the brown to dark, almost black range.

Bunin or “Bubbleheads” are actually a relative of hunchbacks, and not saddlehorns, despite the head similarity. They tend to follow the same rules as hunchbacks, but instead of greenish tones, they come in golds, yellows and warm-orange tones. There has also been confirmed cases of fawned and pearled bubbleheads.

Volkov are a common, albeit specific breed that's bred for it's ferocity, but also it's loyalty. They’re often easy to mistake for a standard, and combined with their relative commonality make them hard to identify to the untrained eye. They appear like standard headcrabs, except they have a slight hunch to them. Their real difference lies in the personality. 

As mentioned, they’re loyal and very attentive to the rest of their cast, but have a ferocity and sharp hunting ability that comes with it’s protectiveness. They’re often used as pest control or ‘guard dogs’.  This makes them suitable for those jobs, but poor choices for people who live in high population areas or have lots of visitors. 

They generally come in browns and blacks, but can truthfully come in any color. They can come in MOST patterns- all but smoked and bullseye.

Batas are another weird breed with a unique patterns, which is the squiggly markings centralized on their rump. They only really come in variations of the color pictured, golds, flaxens, and sandy. Similar to pancakes, they're known for being very complacent with handling, making them good for those with kids or for shows, where the more prominent the markings the better they judge. The difference is the fact that the whole breed itself is prone to many health problems, as it’s very recessive and commonly inbred. Purebreds are pretty expensive.

Silkies or “thinskins” are a breed that came from a mutation that caused their skin to be extremely thin. They're questionable morally to keep, since they're prone to getting wounded very easily, even by their own fangs and claws. Because of this, they have to be debeaked and/or declawed, or must have fang caps at all times and their front claws filed regularly, les they hurt themselves.

They also generally have a myriad of other health problems because of the inbreeding needed to get them, and are prone to several diseases, skin problems, and increased chance of injury. 

They generally dont have any patterns, but come in most all colors. However, because of their thin skin, their yellow blood tends to show through, giving any color a yellow tint- and appearing outright yellow on lighter coats.

Munchkins aren’t as much of a breed as they are a mutation, and can come in any color or pattern because of it. There can even be munchkins of other breeds.

Hookclaws are a very newly recognized breed, and still have yet to be fully explored. So far, they can come in pretty much any color, but they never have any patterns aside from a heavy gradient on their back. More research is being done to try and breed patterns onto them.  

SUMMARY

Despite their nefarious beginnings, headcrabs quickly arose as a very common, domesticated companion in the post-combine years. Though they aren’t for everybody, they make a fascinating, unique pet for those willing to put in the work and research. Or, even if you aren’t interested in adoption; the history and genetics are a fascinating, competitive, and potentially lucrative field for any young entrepreneur. 

So whether you’re looking for a new companion, someone to guard the house while you’re away, or simply a new career in genetics, headcrabs are an amazing species to look into.

[notnights]

No no you have a point though. I feel like all I can find are not a game au content a lot of the time and some are really lovely but also that was half the draw to me! Like ouugh these funky ai men they are trapped! What are the moral implications of this? Dr. Coomer is my favorite and I will not let this slide!

I can get the appeal of wanting these little AI guys Real. I imagine for some folk it's easier to write or come up with ideas for too. I wouldn't mind it as much if people actually... had something for Coomer in this kind of AU. Its sort of the nail in the coffin for me with this kind of AU content.

Coomer's arc could be translated into something more befitting of the "Real World." Existential crises are a real thing after all, the trigger behind Coomer's is what could be tweaked. Maybe he finds out Gman's employers "nudge" things in directions and starts wondering just how much is and isn't nudged. Attacks Gordon in the same vain of "they'll never see this coming and it'll ruin their plans!" or maybe even thinks Gordon's the web connecting everything for their plan to work and removing him from the picture can potentially stop all this.

Also smaller ideas like why he's so fond of the Player, aka Gordon. He loves you because he's the tutorial NPC programmed to be by your side and help you. If this is the Real World, what could that unconditional love be translated to? Maybe, seeing as Coomer and Gordon seemingly knew each other before the series' events, and since Kleiner isn't in this picture as far as we know, Coomer is this Gordon's Kleiner. Maybe Coomer was the one who recommended Gordon to Black Mesa, used to teach him and is his mentor.

I think there can be a lot of creativity and brainstorming to be gained from that, like the examples I just gave. But I think the truth is most Not-A-Game-AUs don't involve or think about Coomer enough to care.

Coomer is just kind of swept under the rug in these AUs. And for me personally I just couldn't do that to him, our dear friend Dr. Coomer. 😫

[black-mesa-hive-au]

Entry 3

(on their way to Dr. Kleiner’s office) Calhoun: So, doc- how's your day been?

Dr. Freeman: (silent for a minute, then gives a slight nod and thumbs up)

Calhoun: Hmm...that's good, that's good. What did you have for lunch?

Dr. Freeman: [pasta.]

Calhoun: (nods slowly) Mm...pasta is good. I like spaghetti. Alfredo is OKAY...but I'm not a big fan of cheese.

Dr. Freeman: (nods slightly, putting his hands in his pockets)

Calhoun: say….what do you think we're gonna learn? Like you got any theories as to any of this, really?

Dr. Freeman: (silent for a minute, then shakes his head no)

Calhoun: Me either. Watch it be a small little thing that'll easily pass (chuckle) I bet this is all just a misunderstanding!

Dr. Freeman: (shakes his head no harshly)

Calhoun: Huh? What makes you think that?

Dr. Freeman: [........]

Calhoun: it's fine, you don't have to answer….I was just curious. I'm kinda bombarding you with questions I guess. I'm just anxious.

(They reach the door to Dr. Kliener's office, Dr. Freeman taking the lead and knocking on the door. Moments later, a pair of eyes poke through the blinds of the window.)

Dr. Kleiner: (opens the door) Oh hello Gordon! And Barney 2...2295?

Calhoun: I prefer Calhoun if that's no trouble to you. 

Dr. Kleiner: Ah! Hello then Calhoun. Come in come in! Apologies for the mess….I've been working all day and making a mess of things! (he motions the two in, shutting the door behind him. He locks the office up one by one. The door, the blinds, covers the vents….ect.) 

Calhoun: wow, that's uh- a lotta security. 

Dr. Kleiner: You can never be too careful. Is that recording device on?

Calhoun: it's been on this whole time, sir.

Dr. Kleiner: Ah! good! Just make sure this stays between us for now. Video diaries is a very good hobby to have, especially during these times. 

Calhoun: I guess so, whatever "these times" are. 

Dr. Kleiner: Well Mr. Calhoun, these times (grabs a mug of coffee from the counter, probably 4 hours old or so) are getting worse by the minute. 

Calhoun: Oh...well that sure is reassuring.

Dr. Kleiner: (chuckles) I don't like this anymore than you do. So, I believe it's time for me to elaborate. 

Calhoun: Please do doc, Freeman's got work to finish and I've got a shift coming up….

Dr. Kleiner: Don't worry, don't worry. I'll try to be brief. Now keep in mind the most I know is from mumbles heard from those who have been in contact with administration recently. I've also done some "snooping" around. A lot of my intel isn't exact, but I feel it should be close enough! To start, Dr. Freeman here told me 2 of your dorm mates disappeared, correct?

Calhoun: Yes sir, Gilbert and Michael.

Dr. Kleiner: Pardon?

Calhoun: Oh! Er- 3006 and 1225 

Dr. Kleiner: Yes! Them! The 1st generation clone and the new generation clone. Well I looked up their files earlier this week. 3006...I believe you called them "Micheal", finished training a week earlier, as you know. Their report was near identical to your fellow clones- emphasis on near. They were exactly 2.5% below parameters. 

Calhoun: 2.5%?? That's like, nothing! He worked perfectly fine from what I saw. He did his work, came home to eat and sleep and woke up and got back to work like the test of us. 

Dr. Kleiner: See- it sounds outrageous, but knowing black mesa I wouldn't doubt it. May I remind you I've been here way before you were even produced. Black Mesa has a history of hiding things under their ugly rug. Anyways, my apologies for getting off track! As Dr. Freeman knows, I (he chuckles) tend to do that. But yes, I believe they took Micheal away due to that percentage off, of course. I could possibly prove that if given the other one's file but I couldn't find it. Their file should've been with the other 1st generation clones. I even looked through the other generations just in case it got mixed up but I found nothing. It's all very suspicious. 

Calhoun: I can tell ya that Gilbert showed no problems at all. 

Dr. Kleiner: No doubt about it. The best theory I had was that Gilbert wasn't supposed to be here in the first place and got under their radar somehow. But that's unlikely due to the fact he's been in commission for 3 years. 

Calhoun: Listen, doc- are you a believer in the uh….theory?

Dr. Kleiner: The theory? Like ethics or-

Calhoun: No, no the theory about clone deteriorating- whatever it's called. 

Dr. Freeman: (taps on Calhoun's shoulder) [b-a-r-n-p-l-e-t-i-o-n]

Calhoun: Is that really what you scientists call it? Barnpletion? I thought it would be some sort of scientific name or something.

Dr. Freeman: (shrugs) 

Dr. Kleiner: oh yes! Barnpletion! I do believe in it, yes. (He takes another sip of coffee) I see where you're going with this. 

Calhoun: Yeah! Gilbert was a first generation clone, been here 3 years. He might've reached his time, like the theory states. He's definitely fairly self aware- and he questioned quite a bit. He'd ask me a lot about existential things. I didn't question it much at the time I guess. 

Dr. Kleiner: Well then! That helps quite a bit actually! (he rummaged around, grabbing a pen and clipboard and scribbling things down) So, how exactly self aware was he? 

Calhoun: Well, he didn't like working all the time. Which I mean, most of us don't but we don't talk about it. Cause you know, if we don't like working then they'll probably throw us out or something. But like, he'd talk about how this is all we're going to be doing all our life, just working and working. Ya know, we're made not to think things like that. Made not to question what the future is going to be like- but Gilbert moved past it.

Dr. Kleiner: (writes some more down) Okay, how often would he tell you this?

Calhoun: Mainly before curfew. He'd come back to the dorm, get some water and ask me this stuff.

Dr. Kleiner: Was Micheal apart of these conversations?

Calhoun: Well- yes. He wouldn't participate that much. I think his programming was stopping him from taking too much in, he was around a week old anyways, so he didn't have much time to become vulnerable? I don't really understand exactly how all this works, but that's the best grasp I have on it.

Dr. Kleiner: It makes sense enough! It's the best we have right now. The administration might've taken note. That'll clear it up easily, but that still raises the question of what do they do with the clone? There's no real ethical way to dispose of one isn't there? And you were also apart of those conversations, wouldn't they get rid of you too? 

Calhoun:.......

Dr. Freeman: (nervously waves his hands in rejection)

Dr. Kleiner: Oh! Pardon me I- mean, er- 

Calhoun: It's fine sir, it's a question we all have to get to eventually.(he takes a deep breath) I've only heard rumors about what happens when you're decommissioned. None of them make me feel any better….. God I hope they dont take me for all that crap.

Dr. Kleiner: I hope so too Mr. Calhoun. I hope so. (He takes a quick breath) Anyways we can't say for sure if Gilbert was decommissioned yet. I've got more to tell you, I'll be quick so you can get my protege back to work. A government representative recently came by-

Calhoun: Government? Since when? (He clears his throat) I mean when was the government here, sir?

Dr. Kleiner: Just a week ago.

Calhoun: Are we being shut down?

Dr. Kleiner: No I'm afraid the government isn't going to help us. The government usually never does, remember that Mr. Calhoun. We have to help ourselves.

Calhoun: I will try to remember that sir.

Dr. Kleiner: Sorry about that! I don't know what got into me just now (chuckles) pardon me. Anyways the representative came by, no warning to any of us. Dr. Vance talked with him. The man of course didn't tell him much, but he did ask about the rest of your clone colleagues. Not to mention this was the day of the disappearance. 

Calhoun: Okay doc, lemme get this straight. So you're saying- that the government could've taken them?

Dr. Kleiner: They would've been the perfect subjects! Complete opposites yet the same DNA, not to mention they were both considered incomplete. Either that or it's just a coincidence the representative was here and the two were decommissioned. 

Calhoun: This is- a lot if I'm being honest. It's taking me a bit to think it through…Dr. Vance, do you think we could talk to him?

Dr. Kleiner: I was going to suggest that. I'll be sure to have him stop by to talk with you two. You'd probably also want to talk with Azian, she's the one who's been collecting information on Black Mesa's messy history for years, she ought to have something. 

Calhoun: (turning to Gordon) You good with that?

Dr. Freeman: (nods)

Calhoun: Alright then, we'll stop by again whenever we can to see them. Thank you for all this- we gotta run.

Dr. Kleiner: Ah yes, I kept you too long! We did have a lot to talk about! You're a kind man, Mr. Calhoun. No offense but I don’t think your fellow clones would've done anything about this, let alone think too hard about it. 

Calhoun: Oh trust me sir, if they listened to me they would. 

Dr. Kleiner: (moves over to the door, opening it for the two) Dr. Vance should be here in the morning. I'll see you then Mr. Calhoun. (he stops Calhoun, grabbing him by the shoulder, whispering) keep an eye on Freeman. 

Calhoun: (nervously nods)

(Dr. Kleiner shuts the door, leaving them in the hallway)

Calhoun: Well, hey, we're doomed.

Dr. Freeman: (shakes his head no)

Calhoun: Well we can't stop the government! I'll be dead for sure if we even try! 

Dr. Freeman: [.....]

Calhoun: God I don't know. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight. If I'm gone the next morning you'll know what happened.

Dr. Freeman: (frowns)

Calhoun: Yea, me too doc. (reaches to turn off the recorder)

-end of recording-

[devischaotic]

Got Gordon on the brain and decided to draw a couple. Also decided to use this as a way of showing appearance differences between the way I draw different Gordons, and to just talk about them. Sort of found this as a good excuse to talk about the Gordons I don't usually talk about. I was going to draw more but I don't think my hand could handle it.

HL1 Gordon: A 4'05" bundle of cute. Has had his hair growing out since he was a kid and will get agitated when someone talks about or tries to cut it. Gordon is very vocal in hand movements and gestures, but not so much in voice. He'll stay up late if it means getting that paperwork turned in on time. He'll become giddy if someone mentions his relationships with Barney and Adrian, and can go on for hours about how great they both are. HL2 Gordon: Aggressive, socially distant, and just an overall grump. The only time he'll soften up is if he's around Barney, which tends to catch people off guard. (Also Adrian but that hasn't been mentioned yet.) The almost constant gunfire and fighting from Black Mesa caused a good chunk of his hair to get burnt to the point that it had to be cut off, which had been done while he was in stasis. His attitude towards the others (Alyx, Eli, Dr. Kleiner) is a flip-flop of trying to be nice or just being rude. But he'll be blunt in saying he despises Breen. He's the only one that thinks his title as Earth's savior isn't a title he deserves. "Radiation" Freeman: From my AU The Unforeseen. The literal embodiment of the term "Feral Scientist". After falling into radioactive slop one too many times he "died" and came back as this little ankle biter. Radiation is basically blind, but he has been developing a great sense of smell. His near constant hunger has him eating anything from aliens to his fellow scientists. Despite appearing as just a brainless "zombie", Radiation has kept his intelligence. The cute thing about him, if you could call it that, is the small gurgles he does when he tries to speak. It’s suggested to keep a spray bottle full of water nearby if you don’t want him attacking. HLVR:AI Gordon: Also known as VR Gordon. Just a complete emotional mess. Has horrible social anxiety and will shout about having guns pointed at him, even if it's unintentional. All of his worrying and freaking out has left him with grey hairs at a young age. It has also caused him to develop a sense of paranoia. Talks about going to another dimension whenever he falls asleep. He's a single dad trying to take care of his son and he just wants to go home. VR Gordon is the only Gordon that wears earrings. Half-Swapped Gordon: From my AU Half-Swapped. One of the few Gordons that decides to talk, though he'll use sign language when he's really pissed off. He tends to be a cocky bastard and tries his luck far more often than he should. Though his main task is to do his job and guard, he tends to get sidetracked with his secondary task of making sure his Barney isn't screwing anything up, as he hears that from the scientists most days. He tends to intimidate the other Gordons with his muscles.

[21-torpedo-salvo]

Cylinder-fed

You hope it isn’t obvious how closely you’ve been watching him. You hope your line of sight is obscured by the stale mug of coffee you drink deeply from, that the fog on your lenses is enough to distract from you tracking him in your periphery. Yet, despite the anxiety, the fear of being caught, you cannot bring yourself to look away. This was your first time seeing him in a lab, after all, and the difference was… startling, to say the least.

You knew, on some level, that he was more than hot air, but his bastard-like demeanor compelled you to discount him on principle. He was abrasive and cruel at times, wielding his words with a sharper intelligence than your second other, and that did not completely go away as he rounded on Dr. Magnusson with a vengeance. Your eyes linger on the way his muscles bulge underneath the lab coat, the white fabric pulled taut as he gesticulates broadly at a whiteboard.

Eventually, he ceases shouting, quieted by a smug contentment curling his scarred lips into a smile. He takes his scattered array of papers into his arms and leaves, but his eyes narrow on you, tension snapping back into his frame. He stalks toward you, purposeful and intent. You feel lightheaded with how the world suddenly locks back into place.

“Hey, hey, what are you lookin’ at? You’ve been staring at me all day, Freeman. What’s with that?”

You flounder for an answer. Of course he’d have noticed-- he was paranoia given body. And you didn’t bother to think of a liable excuse, so now you’re just staring at him, throat burning with the aftereffects of a too-big gulp of coffee.

“Oh, I get it,” Freemind says, eyes sparkling. “You want a piece of me. You think I’m hot when you’re not calling me an insufferable asshole, right?”

“You’re a dick,” you sign, suddenly exasperated. Paranoid and egotistical. How could you forget?

“And yet,” Freemind laughs. “So what have you been working on, Freeman?”

You step back as Freemind shifts his weight, conspicuously arranging his broad frame across your one exit. Your mind flashes to the crowbar slung at your hip, hidden beneath the lab coat, and the gun hanging heavy in your right pocket. There’s a dozen different solutions to your entrapment itching at your fingertips but you execute none of them, opting instead to stare blankly ahead, wound up like a snake.

It works, after a time. Freemind has the grace to look apologetic-- or something approximate-- as he leans to the side, arms crossed against his chest. His brow is still cocked expectantly, but his expression is softer. You relax.

“We’re still working on long-distance teleportation,” you say carefully. “It’s easier now that we have a target. But the recipient is using a Combine teleporter that they’re having trouble with.”

“That’s a shame. I’m guessin’ that’s what Alyx got roped into working on?” Freemind asks. “Man, we were havin’ fun stealing antlion grubs.”

You shrug noncommittally. You think the friendship he and Alyx have is strange when Freemind can barely interact with Barney. Besides, she was far more useful teaching the rest of humanity Combine tech than messing with antlions.

“Even less talkative today, then,” Freemind says after you fail to respond. “Well, I’ve got shit to do. See ya.”

With that, Freemind leaves, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck as he goes. You watch him walk past his desk and out of the lab entirely. Yet, before he’s out of sight, he twists on his heel and flashes a sign at you. The universal gesture for “follow.”

You take a deep breath. Did Freemind look disappointed just before he left? Did he want you to elaborate on your work? No, it couldn’t be that. He already knew your work-- he made it a point to keep up on it, even as he focused on something else entirely. Something else was up. You wanted to know what.

Leaving your coffee behind, you gather up your things and make for the door, pushing your glasses up your nose as you do. Freemind is lingering at the end of the hall, chatting loudly to a guard. When he sees you, he claps their shoulder and disappears around the bend, forcing you to chase after him. Somehow, he manages to always stay just out of sight. You’re following his raucous voice more than his ponytail.

He strings you along the network of guards stationed throughout White Forest. You pass the cafeteria, where you see him walking out with a handful of headcrab jerky, a strip dangling from his mouth. He flashes you a toothy snarl rather than a smile as he forges on, back into the complex. You wonder why the hell you’re following him.

It’s not like you care about his antics. He’s mean, unruly toward even Dr. Kleiner, and does things that would have gotten him arrested should things like formal law still exist. He’s not even that pretty-- musclebound, sure, and tall, with a mouth full of sharp teeth he won’t share the story about. Maybe he has a pretty green eye, but so did you, and if you keep thinking about this you’re going to feel like one hell of a narcissist.

Maybe that was your problem. You were just a narcissist.

So deep in your thinking, you hardly notice that the trail’s gone dry-- superheated into nothingness by Freemind’s presence. He’s lounging on a bench, a revolver in his hand-- empty, if the row of bullets arranged nearby are any indicator-- and belt already undone.

You stare, bewildered. He doesn’t seem to notice you as he shucks off his lab coat and folds it neatly on the other end of the bench, laying it over the discarded shells. The shirt he’s wearing is a little small, riding up to reveal his stomach with just the leaning motion.

Then he talks.

“Good job! On following me this far, that is. Honestly, I’m a little surprised you even did,” he says, smiling. “I’ve got a proposition for you. Well, not even that. I had this wicked dream last night that’s been bothering me all day. Do you want to help me out?”

Huh. Wait, huh?

You try to say something, but mostly just wave your hands around, signs aborted before even coming to fruition. In the end, you just gesture at him forcefully, hoping the heat in your face isn’t noticeable.

To your surprise, Freemind seems to take pause, chewing on his bottom lip in the way he does when he’s doubtful on something. Then he licks his lip, gnawing on the inside of his cheek before apparently finding his words, eye flicking up to pin you down.

“I—” Freemind raises the revolver by the barrel, waving the butt-- “am going to use this to get off. You’re welcome to watch, if you want. That’s how the dream went.”

Oh.

You’re not sure what else you were expecting. You stare at each other for a long moment, the silence suddenly thick and tense.

“If you don’t want to watch, then you can leave. I am going to get myself off right here no matter what you choose, though, so… Your loss, really,” Freemind finishes.

With that, he raises his hips, sliding his pants down until they bunched around his ankles. You’re more surprised than you should be by the fact that he’s gone commando, and is apparently already soaked, if the state of his cunt is anything to go by. He makes a low sound as he takes the head of his dick and rolls it beneath his thumb.

“I’ll stay,” you sign, though you’re unsure why because he’s already gotten this far and you haven’t left yet. He knows you’re staying-- he knows it because he’s arching his back and exposing more of his hips and grinning at you luridly beneath hooded eyes.

Freemind doesn’t stifle a groan as he slides his free hand further down, shoving his fingers without preamble into his cunt. He shifts his hips, settling forward so that they sink deeper inside him, tongue hanging past his lips as they move wordlessly.

Your face is burning. Your hands shake as you slip off your own lab coat, letting it fall gracelessly onto the floor around your feet. This wasn’t how you were expecting your day to go, but you’re also not against it. Freemind looks good, fucking himself on his fingers. He even looks relaxed.

When Freemind removes his hand, it’s coated. He licks it clean, slipping his tongue between his fingers, saliva glinting in strings off his tongue and lips. A dark flush has started to creep across his neck, darkest where his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His shirt rides further up his torso, exposing skin marred by HEV lines and old scars.

“You look like you want to help,” Freemind says roughly. “Or touch yourself. Ohh, I’d love that. You should touch yourself, Freeman, while you watch me get off. That’d be hot.”

Your hands tighten into fists, twisting up the fabric of your pants. You do think about touching yourself-- about fishing your cock out from your pants and bringing it up to full hardness, about finishing on Freemind’s face while he fucks himself on his revolver, while he says stupid shit-- oh, you could shut him up for once, if he just put his mouth on you.

“Don’t be shyyy about it,” Freemind drawls. “Come on. I can see your cock. Those pants don’t hide much, Freeman.”

Your skin prickles with something like irritation. Roughly, you unzip your pants and yank them down, boxers and all. Your dick is already plenty hard-- standing at attention, leaning a little to the left, flushed pink. Freemind whistles.

“Touch yourself,” Freemind says, and it sounds like a command. “And don’t take your eyes off me. Eyes up.”

You wrap your hand-- tough, calloused, scarred-- around the base of your dick, squeezing gently. You do look at him, much to your chagrin, and gape openly at the sight. He’s got the gun grasped by the barrel, the grip wedged between his legs. There’s a practiced ease in how he slots the weapon in himself-- a relieved, desperate sort of sound that leaks out of him as he pushes it further inside.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Eyes on me. Follow my lead, Freeman.”

Using the bench as a stabilizer, Freemind rocks himself over the handle, thighs visibly trembling with the effort. He’s shameless in his motions, making them full-bodied, and unabashed with his noises. It seems he’s vocal, no matter what he’s doing.

The thought makes you stroke yourself faster. You take a step toward him, shuffling so as to not trip over your own pants. When he doesn’t stop you, you continue to approach, fixated on how red his lips are against white teeth.

“This is even better than the dream,” Freemind moans.

The gun seems to disappear deeper inside him with every rock. Freemind moves faster, chasing the rush of impending orgasm with a vengeance. His expression is twisted, face flushed with exertion.

Your own pace is growing erratic. Follow his pace, indeed-- you reach out to grab his head and dig your fingers into his scalp, eager to hold onto something that isn’t yourself for balance. It brings your hips to eye-level; you make a show of thrusting into your fist.

“Oh, much better,” Freemind says thickly. “Look at you... You’re that hard for me. Looks like I’m not the only narcissist here, eh?”

How can he talk so much? You growl in the back of your throat and grab a fistful of his hair. His confidence turns into shock as you grind your cock against his cheek, smearing pre-cum into his beard and eyepatch. Then he grins, a shark’s caricature, and licks a stripe up to the tip of your dick.

He takes it into his mouth of his own accord. You thrust forward, not wanting to give him time to adjust but he adapts to it, slackening his jaw and following your meter exactly. His eye rolls back at one point, a muffled, heinous moan sending vibrations to the base of your cock as he grows overwhelmed by you and the gun in his cunt.

So badly you wish to talk, but your throat doesn’t make noise, so you dig your fingernails into his scalp and keep his head in place. The bench creaks ominously as Freemind moves even faster, eye screwing shut, so close to climax. He seems to gag a little, your rhythms’ falling out of sync, but still he doesn’t stop.

You’re getting close yourself-- you can feel it, coiling tight in your belly. Your muscles are aching from holding yourself like this, but you ignore it. Freemind’s mouth is hot and wet and finally silent as he sucks you off. Looking down on him, he looks utterly blissed out, and that fact alone is enough to make you cum.

Your only warning to him is a broken keen and erratic thrusts down his throat. Judging by how he grabs onto your hips, fingernails dragging into the flesh, he must have already came himself-- and is eagerly swallowing yours, mewling as he does so. When you finish, he slides his mouth off with a wet pop.

Excess spit dribbles past his lip and hangs from a string between your cock. It snaps a second later, becoming a glistening wet trail down his chin. Panting heavily, Freemind leans against the wall, the gun laid flat beside him.

Messy, is the only thing you can think. And way too fucking good. You grab his shoulder as you drop down onto the bench beside him, squeezing tightly the muscle there.

“That,” Freemind starts, “was fucking perfect.”

You snort, but nod in agreement.

He turns to look at you. His expression is… unreadable, an unfamiliar sight. It’s softer, maybe. You realize why when he leans in close and presses a short kiss to your mouth.

“Thanks, Freeman,” he murmurs. “Let’s try that again sometime.”

You nod, caught off-guard.

[bellygunnr]

you’d finally like to learn ch.4

Barney catches up with Gordon on the tram ride 'home.' He's sitting instead of standing, head leaned back against the window, arms wrapped protectively around his torso. He looks for all the world like he's in pain, but Barney's about seventy-percent sure he's not. Gordon, despite being mute, doesn't seem to internalize anything-- if he's hurt, he whines about it.

So maybe he's just sleeping?

"Hey, Doc," Barney starts, quiet. "You good?"

And Gordon shudders, cracking one eye open, then the other-- he's drowsy, then. His jaw cracks as he yawns as wide as he can go.

"When'd you get here, Calhoun?" He asks, sitting up straight.

"Just got on. Hey, I've got lunch for ya," Barney replies, taking a moment to put together the signs before setting the paper brown bag on his lap. "Even you have to eat."

He watches Gordon rummage through the bag, pulling out what looks like an elaborate sandwich and a thing of vegetables. The doctor bites into it with a surprising vengeance.

"What's on your mind, Doc?" Barney chances to ask, taking a tentative seat beside him. "You've got your thinkin' eyes on."

The other doesn't respond for a while, focused on eating. There's a tension in his shoulders that translates to rigidity throughout the rest of his body-- he's on edge, like a finely sharpened knife. Barney pays close attention.

"This is what Kleiner eats," is the first thing he says. "He ate it in MIT, too. Never saw him eat anything else during lunch."

Barney nods. "Kleiner's, uh, he actually asked me to give that to you," he admits. "Says you-- didn't eat lunch?"

Again, that guarded look. Then Gordon shakes himself and it's gone, leaving nothing but bright eyes and a pinched expression. His hands dance-- finally waving around to clear everything he tried to say, curling up against each other in his lap.

Barney smiles, gentle. "You don't have to tell me anything, ya hear? Kleiner was your professor in MIT, right? Y'know, he talked about you even way before you first got here."

At that, Gordon flushes, embarrassed. "That doesn't sound very professional."

"No, I guess it ain't."

The tram shudders around them. Vibrations underfoot intensify as the rails underfoot grow dirty and mal-cared for, which triggers an automated response from the tram itself. Barney mimes along to the robotic message, using his right hand as a puppet to mouth it.

There's a strange, raspy splutter beside him-- he looks, just in time to see Gordon laughing.

Barney feels heat strike his cheeks, the world swaying around him. The laughter is mostly silent except for some errant squeaks. His shoulders shake and one hand grips Barney's knee as an anchor, the other pressed against his mouth. A giddy feeling rises in his chest-- he's never seen Gordon laugh before.

Not like this, anyway.

Dumbly, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He almost says as much but his voice comes out incoherent, sentences jamming into one another. Besides, over the violent tram ride, it's impossible to hear anything...

The automated response finishes unparroted by Barney.

His skin is on fire even after Gordon removes his hands, apologizing profusely, and Barney just--

"Why are you apologizin', Dr. Freeman? By golly, if you think I'm funny, I ain't gonna tell ya otherwise! Hey, what do you know about aliens?"

Barney grins wide enough to hurt as Gordon puffs up real big, a keen look in his eye, and launches into a tirade.

-

you sit in your room, wrapped up in darkness, and think about barney calhoun. you think about black mesa. you think about college, and what your life was like outside these walls. you think about the people you met, the friends you never had, and the deadlines taunting you from the other end of the week. it all comes back to calhoun in the end.

he's an unknown. you can't compartmentalize him with the rest of the security team because he's become an individual. you know his face, could pick his voice out from a crowded room. he's got hazel eyes with more green flecks than brown. he swears at you in sign.

he remembers what you say.

he remembers what you do.

that's new. the last person to do that was kleiner.

(and look what you did with kleiner-- you attached to him like a lost puppy; you've become a dead weight to his career. every time you meet there's disappointmentregretpity in his---)

pain radiates throughout your hand as you squeeze the edge of your blanket. you double down on your hold for as long as you can stand it, taking comfort in the heat of your injury. the bandage restricts your movement somewhat, but you stress that too, willing the maelstrom of negative feelings to go away.

they abate, eventually. you're left feeling somewhat relieved, but mostly ashamed, slightly numb.

you wonder what calhoun is up to.

you wonder if it's too much to text him.

you decide against it to the tune of the kettle whistling on your stove. you let it ring for several moments, piercing the stale air of your Black Mesa apartment. it's the little things, you think. the handle is hot, and the water steams as you pour it into a mug.

the water quickly darkens as the teabag's contents leeches into it-- nothing to do now except wait.

the clock hands read midnight, maybe a few minutes past. your tea steeps, impassive and uncaring to the exhaustion in your bones. what time was it when you tried to go to bed?

nine pm? something to that effect. you wonder what calhoun is doing. he could be sleeping himself, or working graveyard shift. that makes you smile.

"The only reason I volunteer for graveyard shifts is to look for aliens," Barney had told you, only a few days ago. "I swear to god we have them. Black Mesa's hiding them in the lower levels."

you had looked at him askance, a little put upon. "go on," you told him deliberately.

"Black Mesa's hiding them! That's why we have the military on call. Shit, my last exercise was headed by a Marine. That's weird, Doc! And, and, and," Barney had punctuated his words with a snap of his fingers, then pointed at you with conviction, "I hear some guards are issued RPGs. What the hell do we need RPGs for in a goddamn research facility, Doc?"

you hadn't known. you still didn't know, but you also didn't want to think about it. scientist though you may be, there were some things that were better left unknown.

no matter how much effort you put into the strange crystals that constituted your research here. where they came from mattered not-- this you tell yourself to maintain sanity.

"Why don't you tell me?" you had invited him, because letting Barney talk had been the safest option.

and talk he did.

you're surprised to feel yourself smiling as you remove the teabag, carefully depositing it into the waste bin. the conversation had lifted your spirits then, and it seemed it was doing the same now. but calhoun always seemed to have that effect--

which makes you feel guilty for doubting him at times.

the peppermint tea scalds your tongue, stealing you away from another spiral.

Once again, Barney finds himself staring down Gordon's door, their conversation having carried them off the trams and directly into the science team's dormitories. He laughs, then sobers up fairly quickly, cutting a look at his friend.

"This time I really do need to get home," he starts, "but if you need anything, just call, ya hear?"

"I hear," Gordon replies, looking some kind of way. Embarrassed, maybe? Or just tired...

"Tomorrow I'll come by to help ya with the new workout routine. You had some questions, right?"

Gordon nods, looking relieved. "Thanks for helping me with that. I hope it's not--"

"You're not troublesome, Doc," Barney says earnestly, effectively cutting him off. "Get some sleep. See ya tomorrow."

[confusedunit]

The Resonance Project - Dr. Freeman

April 18th, 1998 - Crystal Resonance Test

Dr. Freeman wasn't feeling well, that morning. He'd had the worst flu of his life for the past two weeks, and was finally recovering. He knew that the exposure to samples he worked with could cause lowered a immune system, but he figured it was more that someone else at the facility had gotten him terribly ill. Probably Calhoun the last time they saw each other, with his traveling all over the complex, and his insistence on talking nonstop during the morning tram rides.

But he was recovering now, no longer contagious and cleared to return to work. Despite the test results, he still felt weak and fatigued, sipping at a flavorful soup from his usual coffee thermos. Calhoun had heard from someone, who heard from someone, who got lectured by some 'health food connoisseur' that 'bone broth' would cure all ills. Apparently, it wasn't soup. He didn't care enough to correct himself.

So here he was, sitting in a chair in the observation room, unable to run his own test. If he was honest, he felt a bit bitter about it. He'd spent his college years on his theory, and his two years at Black Mesa designing this test, and now...the first real test wasn't even being done by his own hands. He knew the restriction was for his own safety, due to the risk of radiation exposure when he was still recovering, but...still. It was the principal of the matter.

Instead it was a coworker, Professor Bailey, in the HEV suit downstairs. He had nothing against Bailey, the man was great to work with, but he'd never trained for this. It was so much more than just pushing a sample into a test laser. There were failsafes, safeguards, protocols in place that had to be followed, and Bailey didn't know most of them. His coworkers told him he was just being paranoid. But as he watched the crystal enter the laser down below, he could tell even before the alarms went off that he was right to have worried. The sample went in too fast. And it shouldn't be that shade of green.

He ignored the panic of the scientists around him, focused entirely on what he was doing, as he lunged forward to grab the intercom. "Bailey! Drop the cart and get to the door!" He shouted over the noise, watching as the helmeted man looked up to the window. "Now!"

"Dr. Freeman!" Someone was yelling at him now, and he turned to look at who it could be. Dr. Birdwell, apparently. Didn't he see he was busy? "We need to-"

Both their chairs were quickly yanked back, as the damage resistant glass in front of them shattered. He watched in awe as he heard the tones from the room on the other side, and as the shards seemed to vanish into thin air. He'd been right, about resonance based teleportation. What a scientific breakthrough. It took him a bit too long to realize that the blast had also destroyed the main console.

"We definitely can't shut it down now!" Birdwell's voice rang out through the din.

He blinked slowly, looking from the window to the door. He'd argue with them later, laugh at them for calling him paranoid. But for now...he pushed himself to his feet, arms flying out to balance as the floor shook. "Evacuate Sector C." His tone gave no room for dismissal. "I'll shut it down."

"B-but-" God, Birdwell seemed to have almost a compulsive need to argue. "Dr. Freeman! The console-"

"Is not damaged inside the chamber!" He glared back at the older man. "Go, and start evacuating everyone you can. I'm sending up Bailey and the others. Once they're through, seal the doors." Just in case. A final safety precaution. As he'd fucking demanded be included. Seriously, why did people only listen to him before starting tests? He was twenty seven, not a child.

He ran out of the room before anyone else could argue. A thermos rolled across the floor, contents spilling out across the tile.

-

He was really glad now that he'd run track in Uni. He'd been teased about it initially after his hiring, but it certainly helped in an emergency. He'd sprinted down the halls, vaulted overloaded computer terminals, and sent every panicking scientist that he could find up to safety.

As he ran, he wondered how he was able to take this all in stride. Was it because he'd expected such failure, and planned accordingly? Was it because Calhoun's conspiracy bullshit had finally gotten to him? ...Actually, now that he'd thought about it, it was probably the Tylenol he'd taken earlier. Or at least the Black Mesa Tylenol equivalent, this felt way stronger than any time he'd had to take some before he worked there. Another test maybe? Damn, he really needed to start reading the consent forms they made him sign.

He shook his head. Right, back on track, the failing test. He couldn't help but feel grateful that at the very least, they hadn't changed his test plans, other than the swapping of the person doing it. They'd shown him several crystals, and he'd chosen the smallest one available, wanting a first true test to have the smallest chance for failure, but you can never account for human error. At least he could look at the data later, confirm that's what went wrong.

Oh right, paying attention. Someone was yelling at him, pointing at a wounded scientist being carried away by a security guard. He should probably...listen. "-and I can't open the door alone!"

Oh shit. Bailey. "I've still got clearance, right? I'll help you open it."

The man seemed relieved, hurrying through the broken door to the closest scanner. "We'll need to shut the doors again immediately- there's no guarantee this will be contained, otherwise!"

He crossed the room, scanning his eyes before turning to watch the door open. He saw Bailey run into the 'airlock', but was much more caught up in the events happening behind him. For all the destruction this cascade was close to causing, and had caused, it was almost...beautiful. Shades of light, from orange through to green, accompanied by the tones he felt more than heard. It was haunting. It was awing.

...He was being yelled at again. "Dr. Freeman! We have to go!"

Right. He had other plans. "Take Bailey and any others, and evacuate Sector C." He turned to Bailey as he reached up and pulled off his ID, handing it to him. "Once you all get through the observation room, scan this outside the door."

Bailey tilted his head at him. "But, what about-"

"Don't argue, Bailey. Please." The stress of the situation was starting to sink through the pain medication. "Trust me."

Bailey stared at him through the helmet, before he nodded. He knew the weight behind the words. He was a smart man. "...Godspeed, Freeman." Without another word, he turned and slammed his fist into one of the scanners, shattering the glass.

As the doors shut, Dr. Freeman stepped into the test chamber, closed his eyes, and felt the crystal's tones echo through the room. Through him. He felt his lab coat whip in the wind caused by the failing reaction, the same wind that ripped his hair tie away as he tossed away his necktie.

When his eyes opened again, they were the clearest they'd been all day, and his mental state matched. He had a job to complete. He sprinted across the room, stopping at the lower console. The shutdown safeguard he'd insisted on was that not only could the experiment be shut down from the observatory, but also that it could be shut down from the chamber.

But this kind of resonance? He'd heard cries upstairs about being unable to shut it down. Which meant he'd have to do a manual override. Normally that would be done from both the outer console and the inner upper console. To do this himself, he'd have to run both the upper and lower console through the procedure.

He took a breath to try to steady himself. He'd known as he ran down that he'd be risking his life. He wasn't afraid of that. But only now, as he stared up into the crystal's lights, did he realize exactly what he'd lose if he failed. This wasn't about his work, but his coworkers. Bailey had mentioned his granddaughter's recital coming up. Eli and Kleiner laughing as they entertained baby Alyx. Calhoun's overconfident grin as he talked to anyone who would listen.

...But it wasn't just them at risk, was it? A full cascade would damage worse than just that part of the facility, putting his friends in other departments at risk too. He thought of the look in Bubby's eyes when he'd finally seen the stars for the first time. Tommy's laugh when the strangest things amused him. Dr. Coomer, his mentor, with a spark in his eye and a smile on his face as he debated theory.

If he failed...they could lose everything. He could lose everything. Failure was not an option, even if success seemed impossible. But that was his job. To see the theory, even if impossible to prove. To find a way to prove it. To make it show itself.

He hadn't failed yet. And he wouldn't fail here.

He set the sequence to start on the lower console, scaling the ladder to do the same on the top. He had little time to think, as he hurried back down. He had to do his best to focus.

"Five." He spoke, feeling his voice more than hearing it, as he went up and down, going through the motions.

"Four." He would succeed, and the crisis would stop. The resonance would quiet, the cascade would slow.

"Three." They would never approve this project again. But they'd already proven everything he'd set out to find. In this one chaotic moment.

"Two." The tones changed, the lights moving away from green. The air itself was changing, returning to normalcy.

"One." He stood behind the upper console, and threw the final switch.

He slowly moved down the ladder, walking across the rubble to reach the front of the machine. The glow was back to the yellow it should be, the only echoing through the shaking room being that of the laser itself. He glanced up to the broken window, turning his attention back to the machine. He rested his hands on the sample cart, waiting for the machine to start to slow.

It was only as he pulled the cart backwards that he realized he'd been too slow, that he'd fallen out of sequence. The machine rumbled as it finished shutting down, but the crystal itself, so close to him, began to sing.

With a loud electrical crack, and a flash of green, the machine shut down. It was silent. The crystal was cracked. And the room was empty.

[hashglam]

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[sweet-christabel]

A Trusted Friend In Science

FF.net: (x) AO3: (x)

Chapter Twenty-Nine - 2035. A New Direction.

Settled in the guest bedroom, Chell was examining her wound in the mirror, curious to see how it was doing after two weeks on the road. The hem of her vest top held securely in her teeth, she ran her fingertips lightly over the bump of scar tissue, still red and raw-looking despite being healed. In time she knew it would fade to pink and then white, but for the moment she would still have to be mindful of it.

After a soft set of footsteps from the room next door, Doug appeared in her open doorway, eyes widening when he saw what she was doing. “Oh, sorry,” he said self-consciously.

She waved him in, smiling to herself at his habitual awkward courtesy. It was misplaced in this particular instance anyway. He’d been solely in charge of tending to the injury while they were travelling, as she hadn’t been able to see it.

“Are you happy with the progress?” he asked, entering the room and sitting on a rickety desk chair.

She nodded, dropping her mouthful of cloth and rearranging her top, deciding it was time to leave the bandage off. Turning away from the mirror, Chell seated herself on the edge of the bed facing him, pulling her notepad into her lap.

“I, uh, was thinking,” Doug began, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward and studied the carpet. “I…want to go to New Mexico.”

Chell silently ground her teeth, annoyed but unsurprised by the declaration. She’d seen his stricken, thoughtful expression, and she knew him well enough to know what would go through his mind. He glanced up to read what she hastily wrote on the pad.

‘I had a feeling you would.’

His lips briefly quirked in an attempt at a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather not, but…I’m the last surviving Aperture scientist. I don’t think I can leave that ship in a working condition. Not in good conscience.”

Damn your conscience, she thought at once, although she knew she didn’t really mean it. It was part of what made him who he was.

‘It could be dangerous,’ she wrote, keeping her irritation hidden.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “My instinct says run, but…I can’t. It’s…my duty…to deal with it. To…do something good. Since I failed with GLaDOS.”

Chell took in his guilty expression with a frown, hating the way he took the blame on himself. She completely understood his reasons for wanting to go, which just served to annoy her further, but she was also afraid. I can’t…lose him, she realised with a flash of panic.

Doug frowned as he studied her face, and she knew she’d done a poor job of concealing her thoughts that time.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned.

She shook her head, shooting him a quick, humourless smile.

“Chell…” His voice was a mildly exasperated sigh.

Grudgingly, she scribbled, ‘I’m just worried, that’s all.’

“About me?”

She met his gaze, confused by the question, which seemed unnecessary in the extreme. Doug, too, appeared to be surprised that he’d asked it.

‘Of course,’ she wrote simply.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, although she wasn’t sure why. She knew he needed reassurance sometimes, even if she’d proved herself in the past as someone who cared.

I care, she mused. I care so much, and I wish his mind would let him accept it.

Perhaps some of it could be seen on her face, as his eyes narrowed pensively as he looked at her.

‘I’ll come with you,’ she said, her writing a little neater as she lowered her gaze to the paper.

He read it, immediately shaking his head. “No, Chell, it’s fine, you don’t have to. I’d never ask you–”

She held up her left index finger to silence him while she wrote furiously with the other hand. ‘You didn’t ask, I’m volunteering.’ She wondered why he was arguing the point. He’d as good as signed her up when he’d decided to go himself.

“You said yourself it might be dangerous.”

‘I’ve faced danger before.’

He took in the words with a quick sweep of his eyes. “Not like this. If we get this wrong, we could end up trapped in a different universe. Or worse, separated and trapped in two different universes.”

‘I’m willing to take the risk if you are,’ she wrote back stubbornly.

Doug looked down at his lap, brow furrowed.

We’re in this together, as always, she reminded him silently. Reaching out, she gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. Okay?

He did so with wide, surprised eyes. Then he sighed and gave a tiny nod. Chell held his gaze, intent on making her determination known. His sigh was a gentle whisper of warm breath on her skin, and she dropped her hand, clenching it into a fist in her lap. Doug’s expression seemed unusually guarded all of a sudden, and Chell wondered if she’d crossed a line.

Then Julie appeared in the doorway, making them both jump, and the strange moment was broken. After establishing that everything was fine with their rooms, she retreated back downstairs, and the conversation turned to forming a plan.

“I’d like to stay here for a few days if that’s okay,” Doug said, when the sound of Julie’s footsteps had faded away.

Chell nodded, keen to have some time to recuperate.

“Then we’ll stock up and…start walking, I guess.”

She pulled a face and wrote, ‘You want to walk to New Mexico?’ She took the time to put in the italics so that he’d read it in the tone of voice she would have used. ‘It’s a thousand miles away.’

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “It would take us…” He glanced at the ceiling, running a quick calculation in his head. “…Probably about two months. Unless we can find a vehicle.”

Chell felt tired just thinking about it, but she knew that a few days of respite would soon have her feeling restless again. It wasn’t like she had any other commitments in her life.

As it turned out, they stayed with Julie and Angela for three weeks. That proved to be just enough time for Chell to heal, for Doug to catch up with his sister, for Angela to help prepare them for their trip, and for Julie to fret about it. Although Angela was happy to provide them with maps and addresses, she declined to join them for the journey, explaining that Dr. Kleiner was not very happy with her for quitting. Privately, she added that she didn’t want to leave her mother alone, nor bring her along. Doug heartily agreed, and so they planned just for the two of them. Chell was glad about that. The fewer people to put at risk, the better.

They stocked up on supplies, and Angela drew on a road map to let them know where they could find water and occupied towns. They managed to acquire an ancient car that nobody wanted, planning to drive until the fuel tank was empty, then walk, cutting several days off their journey. Angela told them about a few places she knew of that specialised in breeding horses, but she mentioned not knowing what they took in payment. Doug baulked at the suggestion of riding a horse, but Chell was amused by the idea. She’d grown up watching old Western movies with her father, so she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Doug and herself galloping to save the world from Aperture’s experiments.

Julie spent most of their preparation time trying to talk them out of it, but neither would listen. Chell knew they’d both committed themselves the moment the words were out of Doug’s mouth. Julie could clearly see it, as she didn’t seem remotely surprised, despite her efforts. What she did seem to find surprising was Doug’s confidence and calm manner throughout their stay. Angela confided in Chell that her mother had told her stories of Doug’s struggle with first being diagnosed with schizophrenia, how he’d raged at the world and the situation he’d found himself in. Chell had already known most of it, but it was interesting for her to hear it from an outsider point of view. She knew his experiences had made Doug a vastly different person to the one he’d been back then.

On a separate occasion, she’d heard the subject raised again, by accident this time. Doug and Julie had been outside chatting, taking slow walks around the garden. Chell had elected to stay inside and rest, but had found herself overhearing snatches of their conversation through the open window nearby.

“…so different,” Julie had been saying. “It’s good, don’t get me wrong, but I’m a little surprised. You seem…so much more assertive somehow.”

“I told you, Chell is good for me. When we first became friends she helped me…accept myself more. I was still bitter when I met her again. I hid behind sarcasm and silence. But she drew me away from that side of myself.”

“She’s pretty special then,” Julie had baited him.

“Yes, she is,” Doug had answered her, his tone pointedly casual.

Chell had smiled to herself as they briefly moved out of earshot, knowing that she should close the window, but unable to stop listening in spite of the guilt she felt at hearing words that weren’t meant for her.

“…no, I told you then and I’m telling you now, it’s not like that,” Doug’s voice had drifted up to her, sounding exasperated.

“Yes, but sometimes I think…”

A change in the direction of the breeze had cut their conversation to pieces, delivering only fragments to the window where Chell had sat frozen.

“…didn’t say that…”

“…am your sister, I know you better than…”

“…doesn’t matter. She doesn’t…”

“…think you’re wrong about that one.”

“Julie, just…just stop. Please.”

“…that’s what you really want, but it won’t change what I think, and I’m telling you, she…”

Their voices grew louder as they turned back towards the house.

“…thought I was the one that saw things that aren’t there.”

“That’s not funny, Doug.”

“Look, Chell is the best friend I’ve ever had, and that’s that. She’s good for me. She…makes me a better person. Isn’t that enough?”

And at that, Julie had said with a smile in her voice, “Of course it is.”

Over the three weeks, Chell got to know Julie and Angela quite well. They were both warm, likeable people, and they automatically liked her because she was important to Doug. When Chell had the alarming realisation that she hadn’t had her period when she was expecting it, Angela accompanied her to the doctor. Her presence was a huge help in explaining Chell’s recent history, which the doctor, to his credit, seemed to take in his stride. But still, she’d been forced to write out that there was no chance of pregnancy, as she’d not been intimate with a man in well over two years, (or thirty, depending on how one chose to look at it). The verdict in the end was inconclusive, ruled as either a result of stress or a side effect of her long-term suspension. Her muteness, too, was ‘probably temporary’ with no guarantees.

So basically, she had summed up internally, I can’t speak and may never again, and I probably can’t have kids, which I wasn’t thinking about anyway, but now inevitably am…

The whole thing had made her irritable, and poor Doug had had no idea why until Angela managed to discreetly tell him some vague story. Chell hadn’t known if she wanted children, but she knew that it was actively encouraged in this new world. The population had taken a huge dive, and it was considered an unwritten duty to boost it again. That had made her uncomfortable to begin with, but now it was worse.

Damn you, Aperture. Why can’t I leave you behind? Why do you constantly have to make my life worse?

When they’d done what needed to be done with the Borealis, Chell vowed to settle somewhere largely unpopulated, not letting herself think about that fact that she’d probably end up doing so alone. Instead, she turned her thoughts away from all her troubles and set her focus solely on preparing for their journey.

On the morning of their departure, everyone was quiet and reflective. Julie and Angela sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen while Chell hovered nearby, full of nervous energy. When Doug joined them, he was as Chell best knew him: clean-shaven and wearing a tiny, awkward smile.

“Oh!” said Julie in surprise. “That’s the Doug I remember!”

“I thought it would be easier for the road,” he explained. “I don’t want to end up how I looked coming out of Aperture.”

“Which was?”

“Like someone who’d been on the run and sleeping rough for three years.”

Chell smiled at him when he looked in her direction. She’d gotten used to the beard, but she couldn’t deny that it was nice to see him looking like her friend again.

“Are you ready?” he asked her.

She nodded, holding up the three notepads and fistful of pens that she’d acquired.

Doug chuckled when he saw them. “Priorities.”

Damn straight, she answered him inwardly.

After a long, tearful goodbye with Julie and Angela, they finally got on the road. Chell took the first shift, driving as economically as she could in order to save fuel later on. If they were lucky, they’d be able to fill up somewhere, but she doubted it. Gas stations were few and far between these days. Doug sat on the passenger side with the map on his knee, the companion cube behind him on the back seat with some of their supplies.

“Can’t believe we never took a road trip before,” he commented with a smile. “What kind of friends were we that we skipped that?”

The kind that thought they could stop a super computer from killing hundreds of people, Chell thought grimly.

From the way his face dropped, she guessed Doug’s thoughts had taken him in a similar direction.

We put a lot of stuff on hold to concentrate on that mission, she reflected, frowning. It consumed our whole lives. What kind of situation would we have been in if our friendship had been normal? We probably would have taken a road trip, or…spent time away from the facility, doing normal things that people do.

“Guess we were never destined to have a typical relationship, were we?” Doug said at length, his face turned away from her view.

I don’t care, Chell thought in response. We’re here now. We made it. We have plenty of time to do that stuff if we want to.

The thought gave her a boost of optimism about the future. It was so uncertain in her mind. She was painfully aware that she didn’t have any useful skills that she could utilise, other than general secretarial things and the ability to run long corridors in high heels. Doug would be just fine. The world would always need scientists, but she was feeling pretty useless in comparison. Adapting to the new post-war world was proving to be tougher than she’d thought.

Guess I need to learn farming, or at least how to take care of myself.

As yet, they hadn’t really discussed what to do after they dealt with the Borealis. Chell wondered whether it was avoidance, or whether they were both sceptical about their survival. Either way, she assumed that Doug would settle in Wyoming, to be near his sister and niece. Or perhaps he’d persuade them to leave, to move somewhere even further away from Aperture. It was a result of his condition that he’d go to great lengths to feel safe, but Chell understood it completely.

They drove for most of the daylight hours, taking turns behind the wheel. The car proved to be an effective shelter during the night too, with one of them sleeping in the back, and the other curling up on a reclined front seat. But even with careful driving, they ran out of gas a few hours into the third day, halfway across Missouri. They couldn’t complain about the distance they’d covered, however, and so they loaded themselves up with supplies and started walking, leaving the car where it had gracefully rolled to a stop in the road.

Chell was able to take on more luggage this time, which pleased her. She hadn’t liked the limits her injury had enforced on her, and she was glad to have some of her strength back. Following Angela’s map annotations, they found clear streams off road where they could refill their water bottles and wash the clothes they’d worn. Angela had travelled back from New Mexico in a vehicle convoy, but she’d told them that camping had still been necessary, and she’d been shown several useful locations.

They crossed days off a handmade calendar as they trekked onwards, not wanting to lose track of time. On the morning that ended their third week on the road, Chell awoke to a cloud-scattered sky, something she hadn’t seen since leaving Aperture.

“Do you think it will finally rain?” Doug asked, squinting upwards.

Chell shrugged. She hoped it would. She was getting tired of walking through dust, feeling the grit of it on her hair and skin. The landscape was wilting, and she was worried that the streams would dry up if something didn’t happen soon. They were, by Doug’s calculations, just over a week away from reaching the place where Angela had said they could find Gordon Freeman. A week would be a long time if they ran out of water.

It had been a long trip already. Chell was by no means tired of Doug’s company, but she was aware that they had become quite dependant on each other. Of course, they always had been to an extent in Aperture, but it was different this time. Out in the real world, it felt almost as if they were carving a new path of friendship over the old one, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Relationships change, it’s natural, she assured herself. She knew that, yet she couldn’t help feeling anxious, almost nervous. It was a strange thing to feel, as their companionship and humour had barely changed, making her wonder if her concerns were all in her head.

It’s just the thought of living alone somewhere that bothers you, she reflected.

As they walked on, she shoved the thought aside. They were travelling across a wide expanse of Kansas countryside, empty for mile after mile but for the occasional collection of ruined buildings. They had grown used to that sight. People had abandoned their homes in favour of gathering together in larger populated areas. Some states, they had found out, had even imposed marriage laws in order to boost the number of children being born. Discovering that had made Chell extremely uncomfortable, making her even more acutely aware of the effects Aperture had left on her. It brought all her concerns about fitting in rushing back to the surface, and she’d had to fight to keep her worries from Doug.

Stop thinking about that, she ordered herself.

Under the welcome shade of the clouds, they crossed the dry, dusty landscape in companionable silence. The rain held off all day, but the lack of sunlight brought darkness earlier than usual, and they were forced to call a halt. Chell built up the fire while Doug shook out their sleeping bags and blankets, each working around the other with practiced ease. They had camp-making down to a fine art. Chell was a little concerned about their lack of shelter, but there was nothing they could do about it. If it did rain, they’d get soaked. Despite knowing that the downpour would be welcome, she didn’t relish the thought of being out in it when it came. She pulled the top of her sleeping bag over her head before drifting off, just in case.

Their nightmares had lessened as time passed, but each of them fell prey to one or two on occasion. Doug had had a quiet week, and they were both beginning to hope that he was free of them, but Chell found herself awoken by his muttering halfway through the night. Sitting up, she looked across the glowing embers of the fire to where he was tossing and turning, his expression pained.

Slipping out of her sleeping bag, she padded around the fire to kneel beside him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she tried to soothe him.

“No, no!” he whimpered, his hand clenching into a fist.

It’s okay, it’s okay, she repeated mentally, as if she could somehow convey it to his overactive brain.

Doug flinched at something, lurching as if he’d meant to sit up and had changed his mind. His hands shot out, clumsily catching her on the jaw. Chell barely felt the sting of it, too intent on drawing him away from what was haunting him. She’d never seen him so animated during a dream.

Come on, wake up, she pleaded, rubbing his upper arm to let him know she was there.

After a while he seemed to register her presence, looking as if he was trying to pull himself out of it. Then his eyes opened, clouded by whatever he’d seen in his nightmares, and he gasped for breath like a man half-drowned. Chell squeezed his shoulder as he fought to wake up completely, and eventually he met her gaze.

“I’m here,” he assured her. “I’m awake.”

She nodded, sitting back on her heels. Doug sat up, pressing his hands to his eyes. He was still trembling.

“She’d taken you,” he murmured, and Chell didn’t have to ask who he meant. “I couldn’t reach you. No matter how hard I tried, she kept moving the paths. Then there were turrets. I…I couldn’t fight my way through.” He lowered his hands and sighed. “I thought I was getting over these,” he confessed wearily.

Chell nodded in sympathy, and Doug’s brow furrowed as he looked at her.

“What’s…? Did I do that?”

She assumed he meant the bruise she could feel forming on her jaw. Chell smiled, shrugging it off. He hadn’t done it on purpose, after all. She wasn’t about to bear a grudge.

“Oh god, Chell, I’m so sorry.”

Still staring at it, he reached out and ran his fingertips across the reddened skin. Chell froze, eyes widening in shock. Gently, he tilted her head to better catch the dying light of the fire, intent on checking that he hadn’t caused her more damage.

“I…I would never have…” he stuttered, dismayed.

She gave a nod. When his eyes met hers, she tried to send him a clear message: I know.

“It…doesn’t look too bad,” he told her. “Does it hurt?”

Chell shook her head. She couldn’t feel anything except for the warmth of his hand and a small explosion of nerves in the pit of her stomach that had her feeling slightly alarmed. It wasn’t the first time she’d experienced it, but this time seemed worse somehow.

Doug held her gaze for a long moment, then seemed to remember where he was. He blinked and dropped his hand, glancing down at the fabric of his sleeping bag.

Chell caught her breath, biting her lip as she fought off a sudden wave of embarrassment. When Doug finally looked up again, she jerked her head towards her own sleeping bag before getting to her feet.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Good night. And…thank you for waking me.”

She sent him a nod and a smile that felt a little insincere. Then she burrowed under her covers, turning away from him as she curled up, heart pounding, one single strand of thought present in her mind.

What the hell was that?

A/N: Just to make you all aware, we are fast approaching a time when the rating will go up. I promise I won't sneak anything up on you, though. Also I will tag accordingly.

Random fact you probably aren’t interested in hearing: every Sunday is a race for me to update my chapter before my partner is done making dinner. We often tie, and sometimes I end up writing my tags with a plate of spag bol steaming up my glasses :D

[superfullgalaxycollectorthings]

“Feed” Your Skin Antioxidants for a Glowing Complexion http://bit.ly/2FHf2Iq

Summary:

The benefits of antioxidant-rich foods – for inside and out health – cannot be overstressed. That is true even when it comes to obtaining a healthier complexion that glows, as this 518-word article attests. Citing advice from professionals in the field of nutrition, included is a guide that contains three common antioxidant nutrients as well as best sources.

Keywords:

a glowing complexion, younger looking skin, antioxidants, antioxidant, vitamin C, vitamin E, beta-carotene, Susan M. Kleiner, Dr. Kleiner 

Article Body:

Although there is no conclusive proof that antioxidants keep skin from aging, experts do agree they have the ability to ‘capture’ free radicals and may protect us from certain diseases. Antioxidant-rich foods can also give us a healthier, glowing complexion.

According to Susan M. Kleiner, R.D., Ph.D., a Seattle-based nutritionist, eating foods rich in antioxidants is best. “There’s no substitute for getting nutrients through food. The body absorbs and assimilates them far better than in supplement form.”

Kleiner suggests following the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Food Guide Pyramid, and eating three to five servings of vegetables and two to four servings of fruit each day. Choose at least one citrus fruit, such as an orange, a tangerine, or a grapefruit, for vitamin C. To increase beta-carotene intake, eat at least two orange-yellow or leafy green vegetables each day.

<b>Eat Right for Younger Looking Skin</b>

Eating healthy equals younger looking skin. Drinking a cup of orange juice and eating one raw carrot provides twice the Recommended Dietary Allowance (RDA) of vitamin C and beta-carotene. The RDA for vitamin E is harder to meet, especially for those on a low-fat diet. 

“Don’t be afraid to add a couple of tablespoons of olive oil to your diet, or to eat some nuts or seeds,” advises Dr. Kleiner.

The following guideline can be used for RDAs for three of the most common antioxidant nutrients, vitamin C, vitamin E, and beta-carotene; good sources and how best to maximize the benefits of each are included.

Vitamin C:  RDA at least 60 mg. (1/2 cup orange juice = 70 mg.)  Citrus fruits and juices and tomatoes are good sources of vitamin C. Eat whole fruit for extra fiber. Avoid juice in glass containers and heat-pasteurized juice. Light and heat destroy some of the vitamin C.

Vitamin E:  RDA 8 mg for women / 10 mg. for men (1 tablespoon of canola oil = 9 mg.)  Good sources include nuts, seeds and their oils, fatty fish such as salmon, mackerel, halibut, and trout, and wheat germ. Use canola, olive, or another vegetable oil in place of butter or margarine when cooking.

Beta-carotene:  no established RDA. Expert Dr. Kleiner, however, recommends 5-6 mg. ( One carrot = 12 mg.)  Orange and yellow vegetables, and leafy green vegetables, including broccoli, are all good sources. Instead of potato chips or popcorn for an evening snack while watching television, opt for prepackaged, washed and peeled baby carrots.

If you feel you are unable to meet the RDA through diet alone, by all means, take an all-in-one antioxidant vitamin supplement a day, but continue to pay attention to rich food sources. 

<b>Summary</b>   

Because many over-the-counter cosmetics containing antioxidants don’t have enough to be totally effective by themselves, it is best to ‘feed’ them to your skin in combination with a healthy, antioxidant-rich diet for younger looking skin.

We at Savvy Spa Luxuries care about you and your wellbeing. With proper skin care, a healthy diet, regular exercise, adequate sleep, and ample amounts of water, you can enjoy a more fit body, improved quality of life, increased stamina, and a glowing complexion!

©2018 Lori S. Anton

Savvy Spa Luxuries Editor

Writers Write Now

from Blogger http://bit.ly/2FHf2Iq via IFTTT

[decks-writing-blog]

How Long Has it Been?

Summary: From Gordon's perspective he's just killed the Nihilanth and accepted G-man's job offer before getting dropped off on the train. Clearly a lot's happened that he missed.

[A/N] I'm playing Half-Life 2 again (the VR mod of it which is awesome, if you have a VR headset, I highly recommend it) and I realized at the start, no one explains to Gordon what's up with the Combine. They weren't around when he was put into stasis by the G-man so in that moment he'd have no idea what's going on. And it's been 20 years so all his friends are gonna be visibly older so that'd probably throw him for a loop too. So in answer to these thoughts, I wrote this. He also gets to have a little sit down because being frozen in time doesn't count as having a break and he's certainly earned one.

~

If Barney hadn’t introduced himself upon lowering the helmet’s visor, Gordon might not have recognized him. He was older, not just older than Gordon where once he’d been a couple years younger but old enough that his hair was starting to noticeably gray. Just a little around the edges, he wasn’t an old man yet, but, unless he was graying super early, it was a clear sign that more than just a handful of years had gone by as Gordon had first hoped upon realizing he’d lost time when stepping off the train.

What all had Gordon missed whilst in stasis? Not just with what was going on with his friends but the world as a whole. Who were the Combine? Did they have anything to do with the aliens he’d fought before? Certainly not, right? He’d defeated their leader, or at least someone important to their attack… somehow, barely. So what was going on? How many years had it been?

He lifted his hands to ask. Too slow though, Barney was already talking again. “When Eli said you were coming, I almost didn’t believe it. And then when I saw you I almost didn’t believe it again ‘cause well… you look exactly the same as you did back when I last saw you. You haven’t aged a day.”

How could Gordon possibly look the same? So much had happened. He’d killed more people and aliens than he cared to ever think about. He’d died and come back also more times than he could ever think too much about whilst also hoping to keep whatever thread of sanity he had left intact. He’d been to an alien world and killed and alien superpower. How could none of that have changed him visually at least as much as the years had changed Barney?

“But man, is it good see you again. I uh… missed you.” Barney sagged a little, the emotion on his face unreadable. A moment later though, he shook it off as he straightened. “But as much as I’d love to chat for a a bit, we don’t exactly have time to catch up right now. We gotta get you to Kleiner’s lab, ASAP.” He turned and started typing into the console again.

A few moments later Kleiner’s face came up on the monitor. He too was visibly older; more wrinkled, balder, and what little hair he had left, entirely gray. Like Barney, he was alive though, he’d survived the Black Mesa disaster. And Barney had mentioned Eli so that meant he’d gotten out too. But… how many more survivors were there? How many casualties? Now probably wasn’t a good time to ask.

“Dr. Kleiner, you’ll never guess who just showed up,” Barney said, whatever somber emotion he’d been feeling before fully gone from his voice now.

Later, Gordon would get his answers later. For now he’d just continue to listen and do as he was told. Barney and Kleiner knew what they were doing, they’d explain it in time. Besides, Gordon had gotten quite good at forging on ahead despite emotionally not wanting to.

~

It wasn’t until the elevator slowed to a stop that it finally clicked who Alyx was, or more like who exactly she was talking about when she mentioned her dad. Perhaps it should’ve clicked with him sooner, especially after having seen visible signs of age on Barney and Kleiner, but he was still getting used to the fact that he’d been in stasis for who even knew how long.

“You’re Eli Vance’s daughter,” he signed before she could turn away as the doors opened with a soft ping. He’d never met her or seen anything more than just the single photo Eli had kept of her on his desk but Eli had talked about her sometimes. Enough that Gordon knew her name. And if she was, there was a good chance he’d have taught her sign language as it was useful for far more than just people who couldn’t speak.

She gasped, almost seeming to flinch a little. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you… do you need me to…” She awkwardly lifted her hands to sign, her movements slow and unsure. “Yes. Eli is my dad. Sorry. I’m… I’m…” She fumbled with her hands, clearly unsure how to say whatever it was she wanted to say.

“I can hear.” Gordon made sure to move his hands a bit slower than usual as she clearly wasn’t very comfortable with this form of communication. “You don’t need to sign to talk to me.” He appreciated the effort though, not everyone did.

“Oh, thank god,” she said, visibly relaxing as she lowered her hands. “For a moment there I thought you missed everything I just said. Dad taught me sign language when I was little but I don’t get many opportunities to use it outside of missions. And for those we we only really use stuff like ‘all clear’ or ‘three Combine ahead’, you know?” As she said the phrases out loud, she also lifted her hands to sign them too. “So I’m not very good at it.”

“That’s fine.”

“All right um… I guess I’m gonna have to practice that, huh? For now though, we should continue. We’re almost there.” She turned and resuming leading the way and Gordon continued to follow. Still no time to waste on talking apparently.

~

Despite never having been in this iteration of Kleiner’s lab, it still felt somewhat familiar and very Kleiner. A cluttered mess that was somehow still organized. The addition of Lamarr wasn’t nearly as shocking as everything else Gordon had seen upon waking up in the new present. In fact, it was the exact kind of thing Gordon would’ve expected from him if he’d been given the time to think about it.

As Lamarr hopped away, Gordon set to exploring. Not counting his time in stasis, it hadn’t been that long since he’d last been in a working laboratory but it certainly had felt like it had been ages. He missed it.

Would he ever be allowed to settle down and just be a normal theoretical physicist ever again? If given the chance would he even be able to? The world had changed so much while he was in stasis and he’d changed so much during the fallout of the resonance cascade. All the killing, violence, and death weren’t things he could just pretend didn’t happen. Surely there could be no peace after…

Something touched his shoulder. Flinching, he snapped around to face it as he reached for a gun that wasn’t there. He scrambled for were his crowbar should be magnetized to suit’s front instead but that also wasn’t there.

“You okay, pal?” It was just Barney looking at Gordon with a concerned expression. His hand was still raised as if he wanted to put it back on Gordon’s shoulder but didn’t dare.

Trying to pretend he wasn’t breathing a bit harder and his heart wasn’t still racing, Gordon stepped back and looked up and around to see Alyx and Kleiner looking at him with similar shocked expressions. They’d been talking to him, hadn’t they? He’d heard their voices but had been too lost in thought to pay attention. Here, that was fine, anywhere else though, a death sentence. Even if he reset afterwards, dying hurt, sometimes a lot. He’d like to avoid it whenever possible so he had to be more wary and honestly shouldn’t have relaxed as much as he had in the first place.

“I’m fine. Continue.” Somehow he managed to keep his hands steady as he signed.

Silence held for a few moments before Kleiner broke it. “Ah well, as I was saying, I upgraded your HEV suit. If you would like to put it on, I’ll go over the specifics with you.” He turned to the keypad in the wall he’d apparently walked over to whilst Gordon hadn’t been paying attention. He input a code, opening the metal door next to him. Inside was indeed the HEV suit.

Of course Gordon had to put the suit back on. He wasn’t here to rest and relax, he had a mission to complete even if he wasn’t sure of the full perimeters of it. He was good at killing people now and even better at not dying because he didn’t stay dead when he did die. There was probably no time to waste either, things were happening, he needed to get a move on. But also…

“How long has it been?” Surely asking for at least that much would be okay, right?

“Since when?” Barney had stepped back from him and lowered his hand to lean lightly on a nearby table but he was still just in arms’ reach.

“Since everything that happened at Black Mesa.”

“Oh, uh, ‘bout twenty years, I think.”

“Twenty years to the the exact date, actually,” Kleiner added. “From the resonance cascade, not since you went to Xen to kill the Nihilanth.”

Oh. He’d lost twenty years. But hey, at least he had a name for the thing he’d killed Not that helped him much. He still missed twenty years of his friends life while apparently the world went to hell even despite his efforts to save it.

“Wait, if he’s been frozen in time since the Black Mesa incident, does he not know what’s going on with the Combine and stuff?” Alyx said it in a near whisper to Kleiner, just barely audible to Gordon from over here. Thanks to the suit, all that gunfire hadn’t damaged his eardrums though so he did hear it.

Kleiner took a moment to respond, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “Now that you mention it… Gordon, do you know what’s going on? I’d assumed you’d been told but if you don’t even know how long it’s been…” He trailed off.

Ah, so they hadn’t been barreling on because they didn’t care, they’d assumed he was caught up. Probably a safe assumption to make since the man in the suit could’ve easily told him something before dropping him off on that train. “I know nothing.”

“Oh dear, we don’t have time for a full debriefing right now but you are certainly owed and explanation. Come on, come over here and sit down and I’ll give you a rundown on things.” Kleiner gestured for Gordon to come over as he walked back over to his desk. “Barney, go with Alyx and help her brush up on her sign language skills, she’s gonna need them now that’s Gordon’s back. Though, really we could probably all brush up on them some.”

The thought of sitting down and having something explained to him was almost too good to be true. Surely something would come up to interrupt them. … If so though, Gordon should hurry over to get as much explanation as he could before that happened. He jogged over while Barney and Alyx moved off to the side. Besides, he’d earned an explanation and a break. Even if it was bound to be brief, he’d happily take it.

[ronaldmrashid]

Who Makes A Million Dollars A Year? Exploring The Top 0.1% Income Earners

If you want to get rich, you might as well focus on joining industries that pay very well. But there’s more to just joining a well-paying industry to get you to a million dollar income. You’ve also got to perform at a high level, survive cutthroat competition, and receive lots of luck along the way.

Corporate politics can be brutal on your climb to the top of the pyramid. Oftentimes, it’s those who’ve been able to successfully sell themselves internally who achieve the greatest rewards.

During my career in investment banking, I was too defiant. Despite getting promoted quickly in my 20s, I stalled in my 30s because I didn’t want to relocate to grind cities like New York or Hong Kong. Nor could I pretend to like enough people who could push me forward. In the end, I decided to see what I could do entirely with my own fingers.

We know that an American top 1% income starts at around $450,000 today. We also know that a top 1% income varies by age as well. For those interested in making a top 0.1% income, let’s take a look at some career profiles. 

The People Who Make $1 Million A Year Or More

Managing Director, Investment Banking – Achieving the title of Managing Director has always meant that you’d finally break seven figures a year, at least when I worked in the industry between 1999 – 2012. The typical MD base is around $400,000 – $500,000, and they would often earn a bonus of $500,000 or more.

But the bonus is often paid in deferred stock and cash. For example, out of the $500,000 bonus, only $200,000 might be paid in upfront cash. The remaining $300,000 is deferred over four years. If you quit before the four years is up, you lose your deferred compensation, which is why negotiating a severance is huge in any industry with deferred compensation.

General Partner, Private Equity – Private equity is one of the most coveted next step careers for investment bankers. The hours are much better, while the pay also tends to be higher as well. These folks earn salary, bonuses, and carried interest, which can often lead to huge bucks.

Some of the top private equity firms include: Blackstone Group, KKR, Warburg Pincus, TPG, and various sovereign wealth funds like Temasek, GIC, and Abu Dhabi Investment Authority. Another chart by efinancialcareers.com.

Portfolio Manager, Hedge Fund – Again, your compensation is based on performance, size of assets under management, and the number of employees. First-year associates out of business school can make $250,000 – $500,000 at the largest shops. By the time you become a general partner or portfolio manager, you should be making at least $1 million a year if your fund is over $500 million. Here are some great charts by efinancialcareers.com.

Portfolio Manager, Actively Managed Long Only Fund – Fund manager pay is based on tenure, performance, and assets under management. In order to earn $1 million a year, you will probably need to manage over $1 billion in assets under management and have a solid 5-year or longer track record of performance. A 1% fee on $1 billion generates $10 million a year in revenue to pay the portfolio manager, analysts, office rent, marketing, other operating expenses, and the overall company.

But most of these actively run funds are charging less now (~0.5%) due to the proliferation of index funds. Companies such as BlackRock, Fidelity, Wellington, T.Rowe. Price, Capital, PIMCO, Prudential, Nuveen, Invesco, Janus, AXA, Legg Mason, TIAA-CREF and many more all have portfolio managers and some analysts who earn over $1 million a year.

Principal/ General Partner, Venture Capital – Just like all the other money management industries, there are good venture capital firms and there are bucket shops. The largest VC firms like Benchmark, Sequoia, and Kleiner Perkins pay their General Partners multi-million dollars a year, especially if one of their investments has a huge exit such as when Whatsapp sold to Facebook for $19 billion in stock and cash.

I consider being a VC one of the best vacation jobs in the world because you don’t have to build anything, you get to earn a nice salary with carry, and you don’t have to prove your investment returns for years given the normal 5-10 year lockup periods for funds. By the time your limited partners discover you’ve made terrible investments, you’ll have earned a lot of money and moved on to a new VC or started a new fund within the firm.

Analyst $ 80K – $ 150K

Associate $ 130K – $ 250K

Vice Presidents $ 200K – $ 250K + $ 0-1MM carry bonus

Principal/Junior MD $ 500K – $ 700K + $ 1-2 MM carry bonus

Managing Directors/Partners $ 1MM + $ 3-10MM carry bonus

Partner, Big Law – The starting salary for first-year associates is around $190,000. By their 8th year (34-35 years old), their salaries will have risen to around $330,000. The funny thing about big law is that everybody up to the 8th year all get paid pretty much the same across all firms.

Bonuses are nothing to write home about, often ranging between 0% – 20% of salary. Therefore, in order to make the big bucks in law, you need to become a partner where you’re bringing in business and earning a percentage of profits.

Starting in 2018 from law.com

* Strategy Consulting, Partner – Firms like McKinsey, Bain, and BCG are some of the top strategy/management consulting firms. But to get to partner and $1,000,000+ generally takes about 10 years after business school, and only a few make it that far. Here’s the salary progression from the website: managementconsulted.com.

First-year out of undergrad:

Base: ~$80k

Signing Bonus: ~$5k

Performance Bonus: up to ~$12k

First year out of MBA:

Base: ~$150k

Signing Bonus: ~$25k

Performance Bonus: up to ~$44k

Manager/Project Leader (2-3 years out of MBA):

Base: $190-210k

Bonus: $80-120k

Associate Principal/Senior Project Leader (4-5 years out of MBA): 

Base: $230-300k

Bonus: $110-200k

Junior Partner/Principal (6-8 years out of MBA): 

Base: $320-400k

Bonus: $300-500k

Senior Partner/Director (10+ years out of MBA): 

Base: $400-600k

Bonus: $500k+ (all-in, senior partners at top firms usually make $1M+; top partners can make $4-5M while ultra-performers can make more)

* Division I Football Coaches – The average salary of a Division I football coach is roughly $1.8 million. It is the football coach that is often the highest paid state employee. For example, Nick Saban took down $11,132,000 at Alabama in 2017. Not bad! Even Urban Meyer, a head coach full of controversy for covering things up makes over $6 million a year.

Source: USA Today

* Public Company C-Level Executive – Don’t let $1 salaries fool you. C-level executives are often paid mostly in stock compensation. The theory is to tie compensation to performance. They simply end up getting way more stock than anybody at the firm. For example, Dara Khosrowshahi reportedly got a $200+ million package to join Uber and pretend that the firm cares about its minimum wage earning drivers. Google CEO Sundar Pichai has a base salary of around $650,000, but got a stock grant worth $199 million in 2016. The median CEO pay for the top 100 largest companies reached a record $15.7 million in 2017.

Source: Equilar

* Self Help Gurus – The self-help industry is estimated to be worth more than $11 billion dollars and growing because we’re all jockeying to make more money and gain more prestige. The self-help industry is also considered recession-proof since even more people are looking to get out of the muck during downturns.

Folks like Tony Robbins make millions selling $10,000 self-help seminar tickets. His net worth is estimated at $500 million. TV personality Dr. Phil wrote a bestseller on how to lose weight and eat right, despite he himself being overweight. Then there are guys like James Altucher whose company generated over $11 million in sales selling himself as a cryptocurrency genius in order to sell his courses online.

Whether you succeed or fail, these people will always succeed because people are always feeling bad about themselves in this ultra-competitive world.

Anything is possible!

* Professional Athletes – They make great money, but their longevity isn’t very long. One estimate says that if you are able to finish every professional golf tournament at par, you will average $1 million a year in earnings. Did you know the NBA veteran’s minimum salary is $2.4 million if you’ve been in the league for 10+ years? Pretty good if you can survive that long.

The average NBA player will make ~$25 million during his career. This is based on an average annual salary of $5.2 million and a career length of 4.8 years. In comparison, the average NFL player will make only $6.5 million due to a lower average salary of around $2 million a year and a shorter average career length of just 3.3 years. Elsewhere, the average MLB player earns about $3.3 million annually, while the average NHL player earns about $2.5 million.

NBA Minimum Salary Chart

* Bloggers – Blogging is my favorite business in the world because you can simply write whatever is on your mind and advertisers will pay you, not your readers. Since you give away your product for free, there are no returns, no customer support, and no obligations to your customers, only freedom baby!

One of my favorite responses to an unhappy reader is, “I’ll gladly refund any money you’ve paid to read my work.” For some reason, they never respond. Whoo hoo! I’m telling ya, if you’re irreverent and don’t want to worry about your product spoiling or having a defect, blogging is the best.

Once you build a brand and can generate organic traffic of over one million pageviews a month, there’s a decent chance you could make $1 million in revenue a year. Here’s a sample income report from a personal finance blogger.

The Million Dollar A Year Dream

The easiest way to make $1 million a year or more is as a public company non-founding CEO. The compensation is outrageously high for what they do. CEOs have huge teams who do most of the work for them. A CEO is really just an ambassador of the firm who tries to drum up positive PR. They sign off on decisions that have already been carefully vetted. They neither invent new ideas or get in the weeds.

It’s good to be CEO vs. the common worker +997.2% vs. +10.9% since 1978

The hardest way to make $1 million a year or more is a profession that relies mostly on performance. As a fund manager, you’re either outperforming your respective index or you aren’t. As a professional tennis player, nobody is going to win a match for you. As a blogger, you’re either going to come up with interesting content that gets indexed and shared, or suffer in purgatory. The upside is professions that rely mostly on performance provide the most satisfaction.

I don’t have to tell you that earning $1 million a year is difficult. Even if you do get to such a milestone, it’s even harder to stay there over the long-term due to competitive forces that will eat away at your product or services.

Never assume you’ll make $1 million again the next year. Instead, save as much of it as you can. If possible, figure out a way to build a brand around yourself or your business to expand your earning power. Always work on improving your craft because eventually, you will become irrelevant. When that time comes, however, you already will have saved up a lovely nest egg to support you for the rest of your life in peace.

Remember, you only need to get rich once!

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Related:

The Top 1% Net Worth Levels By Age Group

The Top 1% Income Levels By Age

How High Net Worth Individuals Invest Their Riches

Reader, do you believe you have the ability to earn $1 million a year? How long do you think you can earn $1 million a year if you do? Did your happiness change at all once you hit the $1 million mark? What other types of people earn $1 million a year?

The post Who Makes A Million Dollars A Year? Exploring The Top 0.1% Income Earners appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from https://www.financialsamurai.com/who-makes-a-million-dollars-a-year-exploring-the-top-0-1-income-earners/

[jamilamerion-blog]

Alternative Popular Music.

Carrying on the drive, I presume that's the biggest problem for any kind of artist. A skilled music equipment teacher imparts the appropriate technique for effortless understanding experience. Only, our experts must be quite mindful on selecting the songs we like merely through comprehending its own lyrics. Other singers are actually professional in the various industry; some are the expert in jazz songs, some are actually the professional in hip popular song, various are experienced in solo songs and some remain in all area. Alonso del Rio states: 'while keeping to their initial adjusting, our experts have looked into the equipments music options to provide an idea of what the popular music might possess resembled in pre-Colombian opportunities. Compact discs give you genuine accessibility to songs so you will not be at hazard off malicious program when using them. I hear a bit of every thing, but there one continual when I enjoy music. You will have to know how to read songs to some extent, and also a minimum of pronounce factors. As well as while one can easily experience pull down through others every now and then or even as a lifestyle, songs is actually regularly there certainly for them. Music was actually the one thing that didn't quit me from proceeding as well as continuing, http://beautyportal-basia.info/forum-calminax-opinie-zadowolonych-klientow-oraz-rezultaty especially rap music," he points out. The United States was a fantastic area just before now that has actually changed and offended as just what songs made it. Music ended up being the puppeteer from the puppet which was actually The United States or in the track Miss American Cake. There are actually a lot of home audio studio as well as recording studios Greater london that have the appropriate guitars to videotape songs. Considering that this had no real music as well as reveals no feeling, my friend criticized Yeezus mentioning that it was actually an awful album. In sum, by supplying Apple Popular music or Apple TV reveals free with its own high-end products, that generates one more reason for customers to switch over or even update to these products. Nonetheless, the Mandarin federal government's clampdown on copyright breach is actually a driver that has actually urged popular music streaming platforms to authorize licensing packages to become legitimate songs company systems.

Every creation adds to the wealthy tapestry of praise songs our company possess readily available to our company. Substitute songs is actually one thing that you most likely have actually heard about ... however you do not know a lot about it. Nonetheless, this's certainly not something that's typically clarified either ... so that is actually perfectly alright! Returning to the distinction from music as communicative procedure, compared with others we point out that its own beats, rhythms, tunes which incorporate to create dynamic and creative sounds, makes this other. OP Nayyar, a Lahore-born musician that became one from the absolute most well known songs supervisors in Bombay, considered it the greatest exercise in creative excellence. The more kinds of music included in your homeschool program the wealthier a little one's music education and learning will certainly be actually. Shazam has partners like investor Kleiner Perkins and London's DN Captial, plus material companies Sony Popular music, Universal Popular Music and also Accessibility Industries (manager of Detector Songs). When utilized in this way obtaining their songs on TV could be a primary jumping-off place for budding musicians. Researchers in the UK hired thirty attendees to pay attention to motivational coordinated songs, non-motivational coordinated music or no music while they strolled on a treadmill up until they reached fatigue degrees. Dr. Bernardi as well as his colleagues were interested in increasing making use of songs to lessen tension in health care people. It is actually bound to transform shape and also tackle brand new styles, however it should not be neglected just what popular music definitely is actually. Along with it happens lifestyle and also it belongs to exactly what this is actually to be human.

[bellygunnr]

you’d finally like to learn ch.7

you're 30 minutes late to work. you're not sure if that matters once you get inside your shared office because both of your esteemed colleagues are on the floor, rummaging through old files and folders. the filing cabinets that held these piles are practically disassembled-- the drawers are arranged haphazardly around Vance and Kleiner. you skirt the edges of the mess, setting your tray of apology coffee on your desk.

they don't notice you.

and you don't really... care. not right now, anyway. the sheer amount of mess on the floor makes something in your brain cringe-- where the hell did they start? where do they end? what could drive them to such urgency as to destroy the carefully ordered backlog of studies and research? had there been a memo you missed about this?

well, if you had missed it, you sure as hell weren't going to look for it. you knew what you wanted from life, and it wasn't this. besides, it wasn't like they had explicitly--

you stop yourself. there's order to everything, provided you have the wherewithal to create it yourself. you could insert yourself between them, make your presence known, but that's...

what am i willing to put up with today? you ask yourself. i don't think it's this. i have a better idea.

you take a long drag of iced coffee, letting the slightly bitter notes cauterize your decision. then, as silently as you arrived, you walk right back out of the office.

if they really need you, they'll call. you'll check back in a couple hours at the very least.

-

the Black Mesa ventilation system was, predictably, a labyrinth. its tunnels were narrow but sometimes opened up into larger canals or turned right into slowly whirling fan blades that pulled or pushed air. you peeked out of every grate you came across- even though you've been in here an hour, you haven't left Sector C. familiar AnMat labs and offices peer back at you.

your shoulder catches on a metal corner as you cut it too close. one shaft narrows dramatically, forcing you to tuck in your elbows and bow your head. you wonder how barney crawled his way through here-- even though you were taller, he was broader by a mile. would his shoulders even fit in the vent you entered through?

you bow your head at the thought. barney had really nice shoulders-- you had the pleasure of seeing them bare exactly once so far, whilst he was helping you with weight training. his muscle was evident, but he wasn't hard angles and flat planes. no, barney had dangerous slopes and curves, soft in appearance but firm in actuality.

well, you imagined they were firm. his hands certainly were as he corrected your form or patted you on the back. at certain angles, you could see the stretch marks patterning his upper arms. a strange pattern of old scars decorated his stomach too-- that piqued your curiosity, but it hadn't been the time to ask, nor the time to pry.

you shake your head. the vent shafts had opened back up, enough so to permit you sitting upright. that probably wasn't a good sign. you peek through the slats of a grate, one conveniently placed underneath you.

unfamiliar corridor with nonsense wall markings.

definitely not Anomalous Materials.

i should turn around, you think, now that i have the space. but i don't remember how i got here.

barney's not even here and he's still distracting me, you think despairingly. aren't i supposed to be nearly 30? what the hell am i doing?

maybe this is how all first crushes or infatuations worked. now that you were settled down, accepted (mostly), and comfortable somewhere, it was time for you to latch onto the first friendly man you met and wonder if his lips were as soft as they looked. sure, you had had flings and such in grad, but they were just that-- flings. you only ever performed touch n' go's with people in the past.

you were scared of commitment. relationships were a minefield of expectations, implications, and social rules you understood less than the standard set. besides, you had committed before and gotten hurt.

more than once, it had been a trick or a joke or misfired signals. data suggested it would happen again, but as you had considered before, barney calhoun was a brand new variable. maybe he would be the one to break the pattern.

the next grate you peek through has a face staring back at you.

it's awfully familiar.

-

on some stroke of luck, it's barney to find you, which you're unsure how to feel about beyond embarrassed. after all, he had been the one to occupy your thoughts for the past 30 minutes. stained mental images of his shoulders and stomach flash helpfully in your mind, causing you to blush. it takes far too long for you to catch what he's saying.

he's gotten good at sign, at least.

"I was exploring," you say, cutting him off. "You gave me the idea."

"Did I?" Barney asks, laughing a little. "What, when we met?"

you nod, scratching your beard. you forgot to trim and shave this morning.

"Do you know how to get back?"

"Probably," you say. "Where are we?"

just as you finish signing, a deep vibrating hum overtakes the corridor. it grows in volume and intensity to the point of settling in your bones, but it's over just as quickly as it began. surprised, you look at barney for answers.

he looks... uneasy.

"They call that the test chamber. No idea what's in there, but I wager it's got somethin' to do with aliens, y'know? But you ain't supposed to be here without clearance, Doc," Barney explains, his voice suddenly patient but edged. "Hey, you wanna see the HEV suits? There's a couple still in there." He jerks his thumb behind him, that phantom edge gone and replaced with a goofy, eager lilt.

oh.

you try not to react too overtly. so this is where you'd be spending your days in the next few months? you nod, slightly excited, somewhat apprehensive.

"Great! Walk with purpose, Doc. It's on this way."

and so you fall into step behind him, striding "with purpose." barney leads you directly to a slightly closed-off room that drops off a level. within its confines stands a large contraption that further contained three pods. two were lit green and full, the third empty, shining red.

the HEV suits-- Hazardous Environment suits-- seemed to float within their pods. bright orange armour, black, indeterminable material underneath, with heavy gloves, boots, and helmets to match. you fiddle with your glasses uncertainly. despite being selected, you hadn't seen one in person yet.

they were rather unassuming to some degree, nothing belying their capabilities beyond protection. they also looked far lighter than the booklet you received suggested.

briefly, you wonder if the test chamber is where you would also undergo the looming "hazard training" in a few months.

"Got a good look, Gordon? Here, you can take this vent back to AnMat. Don't worry, I won't let anyone know you were here," Barney says, grinning good-naturedly. he pries off the grate, ushering you inside.

"Before I go," you say, clasping his shoulder and bringing him around. "I want to tell you something. Can we get drinks at my place tonight?"

barney blinks in surprise, then wiggles as he grins and nods. "'Course, Gordon! Shoot, I'm off at seven tonight. That good?"

you nod. that was perfect. without saying anything else, you fold yourself up and disappear into the HVAC system once more. hopefully, no one will have noticed your absence.

-

the grate leading back into the office falls with a messy clatter onto the smooth tile. you flinch at the sound, it grating on your ears, but force yourself to drop down after it. the impact goes straight through the soles of your shoes and into your ankles.

it hurts, but you're rewarded with two startled shouts, then laughter.

"Gordon! Goodness, I was wondering where you were," Dr. Vance says, chuckling. he's standing behind you, so you slowly turn around, glasses still held to your face. "How long were you up there?"

"Lost track of time," you say, shrugging.

"What on earth were you doing in the vents? Do you know how dangerous that is?!"

you wince. Kleiner. carefully, you put your back to your desk so you can better face your coworkers. on some level, you note that the mess of files and folders is gone. cleaned up, vacuumed back into their cabinet home.

"Look at you. You've got dust and all sorts of muck on your coat. You didn't get hurt, did you? Did you get lost?"

Kleiner has his hands on his hips even as he frets over you with a restrained fatherly aura. you entertain throwing barney under the bus very briefly, but decide against it.

you were 27. not 12.

"I only got a little lost," you admit, smiling faintly. "I ran into Barn. I think a few more runs and I'll have the layout memorized."

"Let the man breathe, Izzy. Say, did you find the route into Kleiner's lab?" Dr. Vance steps in, smiling with that always-easy expression. at your nod, he laughs heartily. "Very good! Maybe now we won't have to wait for ol' Calhoun to rescue him from lockouts. Was that your goal?"

you shrug, rubbing the back of your neck, suddenly anxious at the attention.

"Calhoun, bless his soul, is going to lead to my early death," Kleiner laments, shaking his head.

that doesn't sound very fair on barney. you scratch at your beard, the bristles rough under your fingertips. how much did you need to explain your actions?

not really very much.

"How was work?" you ask instead. they both launch into recounts of their day, which mostly involve trying to find an old study that corroborated a present-time experiment. you don't mention that the entire database is digitized.

sometimes, even paper gets lonely.

-

before you leave for the night, an hour shy of your meeting with barney, Eli Vance pulls you off to the side. you worry slightly, gnawing at your lip.

"Could you let Barney know that I might need him for some babysitting soon? My wife and I are going to the cinema this weekend, and he's usually my first option," the doctor explains, looking giddy at the mere thought.

you release a relieved breath.

"Sure," you say slowly. "I'll tell him tonight."

"Great! Thanks so much, Gordon."

-

Barney raps his knuckles across Gordon's door, sharp and brief, then rolls back on his heels, shifting his weight with uncharacteristic uncertainty. Gordon had looked awfully serious when asking if they could get drinks. Either something terrible had occurred, this was a love confession, or something else entirely.

He wouldn't really mind if it was a confession. Gordon was cute, and he was gay.

Then again, he had no way of knowing how Gordon swung, if he swung at all. He'd hate to strain their burgeoning relationship with an errant crush, but there was always the hope it would fizzle out in time. Not that they ever did.

He was a hopeless romantic in that regard. Things always looked sweeter when you could never have them.

The door opens, squeaking slightly on its hinges. Gordon smiles down at him with shining eyes, looking far more casual and relaxed than he had earlier today.

"Sorry I'm late, Gordon," Barney says, stepping in after him. "Tram takes a bit to traverse this place, y'know?"

Gordon nods in agreement. "Don't sweat it. I got takeout and drinks for us, is that alright?"

"Always is, boss," Barney says reflexively, grinning. Already he can smell the scent of the food-- boxed up and ready on the kitchen table. He hangs back while Gordon goes about divvying up the food.

Before he hands Barney his plate, however, a booklet makes it there first. It's not very thick, stamped with the Black Mesa logo, and entirely black and white.

The table chair squeaks against the tile as he finagles it underneath him.

"Hazardous Environment Suit Introductory Manual?" Barney reads aloud, blinking. "Shit, are you gonna be doin' Hazard stuff, Gordon?"

That was big. Had to be, right? Gordon was already impressive with his PhD and decisive career at 27, but this was like icing on the cake. All he knew about HEV guys were rumors and hearsay, but this suddenly made them feel very real.

"I might be," Gordon says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I have to pass some tests first. It's supposed to be secret, but..."

Well, then.

Barney picks through his food as he mulls this over.

"Then it's our secret," he says, pointing his chopsticks at Gordon. "And we're gonna keep trainin' that hot bod so you won't fail."

At that, Gordon's pale face goes entirely too red and he chokes on his latest morsel of food. Barney claps him on the back while trying to repress laughter, mussing up his hair once the danger is clear.

"Don't die on me yet, Gord," Barney teases, his own face dusted pink. God, he really just said that out loud.