#Ever since I played it it's been rotting my brain I need to infect others with my love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

📝: ERICAAA!!! FRICKIN FINALLY!! Less important note, but when writing about Y/n, El and Max, I wrote "the three friends" and autocorrect literally changed "friends" to "fruits". Yelmax confirmed 💀

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder's Office," Robin reports, unfurling what looked to be a familiar layout on the break room table. "Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints."

"Not bad," Dustin smirks from her left.

"So this is us," she points to a familiar-looking room before gesturing across the map. "Scoops, and this is where we wanna get."

"Yeah, I don't really see a way in," Steve mumbles from his seat at the table.

"There's not. If,"

She rips away a layer of the blueprint, revealing a vastly complicated map of air ducts, pipelines, and detailing that made up Starcourt.

"you're talking exclusively about doors."

Dustin looks at her with excitement growing in his eyes. "Air ducts!"

"Exactly," she smirks, making her way to the whiteboard to retrieve the magic marker. "Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room and these air ducts lead all the way" she circles the secret room in question, drawing one, interrupted line right back to, "here."

Dustin and Steve finally tear their eyes away from the map and follow Robin's mischievous eye. All the way to the air duct tucked away in the far corner of the Scoops Ahoy break room.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

To their surprise, a screwdriver had been harder to find than a ladder but soon enough Steve had managed to reach the air vent and unscrew it from the wall. But as he stood here now, peering down into the vent he quickly realized they were now facing yet another obstacle.

"Flath'ligh'?" Steve asked, finally removing the screwdriver from his mouth and shaping it for the small torchlight Dustin had waiting. "Thank you,"

The flashlight turns on with a tiny click and a soft yellow light bounces down the narrow metal tunnel, enunciation the frown on Steve's face.

"Yeah, I don't know man, I don't know if you can fit in here, it's like... super tight."

"I'll fit," Dustin smirks. "Trust me. No collarbones, remember?"

"Uh, excuse me?" Robin asks.

Steve jumps down from the ladder, turning to Robin as Dustin begins the climb and gives her a nod.

"Oh, he's uh, he's got so disease," he frowns thoughtfully, racking his brain as he tries to recall the word. "It's chrydo... um... something, yeah I don't know. He's missing bones and stuff, he can bend like Gumbo."

"You mean... Gumby?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Gumbo," he snorts.

"Just shut up and push me!" Comes Dustin's muffled voice from the vents.

By now he had wormed himself halfway in, his bottom half sticking out of the wall and still propped up on the latter while they had been talking.

"Okay," Steve huffed, motioning knowingly to the kid's feet and turned away from Robin.

She watched with a tired, lazily bemused expression as Steve grabbed a less than sturdy hold of the kid's feet and attempted to push.

"Not my feet, dumbass, push my ass!"

"Uh, what?"

"TOUCH MY BUTT! I DON'T CARE!" Came Dustin's impatient scream from the walls.

With a heavy grimace, Steve hesitantly began pushing against Dustin's rear end and his muffled anger grew louder.

"I'm pushing!" Steve argued.

"PUSH HARDER!" Dustin shrieks as he attempts to inch further into the metal vents. "You're playing with my legs!"

"I'm not playing, I have terrible footing!"

"Come on!"

Steve finally makes it to the top of the latter, Dustin's legs bunched together over his shoulders and locked under his arm as their voice continued to shout over one another.

"I'm gonna just shove you, ready?"

"Just shove me?"

"One, two..."

"Shit!"

"That work?"

"One more time,"

Robin rolls her eyes, finally turning away when she hears the sudden rapid chimes of the customer bell out front and all too familiar patron.

"Ahoy, sailors! All hands on deck!"

Through the partition window, Robin meets eyes with none other than Erica Sinclair who flashes her an exaggerated salute and rings the bell knowingly.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Laughter and joyful screams filled the chlorine-soaked air, the smell of the pool lingering with sunblock was strong enough it wafted all the way to the parking lot where the majority of the Party now stood at the Hawkins pool. It looked quite different than it had the day before when Y/n, Max, and El had last been, but the tension weighing down the atmosphere seemed just as heavy and ever-present.

The storm had of course long since lifted, and the sun was now beating down heavily on their backs as they took shelter behind a Rust Red AMC Hornet, all eyes across the lot on the occupant in the lifeguard chair.

Billy.

He was squished underneath the bright red beach umbrella, hidden underneath a baseball cap, thick shades, a long-sleeved sweater, and a white beach towel draped over his legs where they poked out into the sun. He was completely covered.

"I don't know," Max begins, peering through the group's binoculars. "He looks pretty normal to me,"

"Normal?" Lucas scoffs. "How many times have you seen him with a shirt on?"

Y/n smiles weakly from where she stands in between him and Will. Max lowers the binoculars, conceding a wince.

"I mean, it's a little weird,"

"More than a little," Mike nods. "He was in a tub with ice. The Mind Flayer likes it cold. Plus everything El saw—"

"But he's lounging at the pool," Max argues, doubtfully. "Which is like, the least Mind Flayer thing ever,"

"Not necessarily," Will says, pulling everyone's attention. "The Mind Flayer likes to hide. He only used me when he needed me. It's like... like you're dormant. And then, when he needs you,"

All eyes return to Billy.

"...you're activated."

Y/n gulps, shifting on her feet from where she had previously stood rooted to the spot. Ever since that dreaded Halloween night the previous year, nothing seemed to have been the same. The Mind Flayer had set his sights on Will, and in turn, her. Slowly but surely, he had infected all of their lives as he had the town of Hawkins; spreading his rot and poison, and his hate. She could still feel it sometimes; the pain of Will's nails raking into her face and leaving behind the faded scar that had already long since disappeared.

Her eyes dart back through the fence at the suspicious-looking lifeguard and her insides twisted further into a sickening knot. The thought of the Mind Flayer's possible return was enough to drain the color from her face and leave a chill in the humid, sticky summer air. Her mind was running rapid with fear but the sound of Max's voice was enough to return her to earth.

"Okay, so we just..." she shrugs, looking back over towards her brother. "wait until he gets activated."

"No," Mike says with the shake of his head. "What if he hurts someone?"

"Or kills someone?" Will counters, and the Wheeler boy nods.

"We can't take that chance. We need to find out if he's the host,"

"Well, how do we do that?" Lucas asks.

The Party falls silent. The weight of the air growing heavier and heavier as it dawns on them. And one by one, each pair of eyes trickle over to the only present Henderson sibling in the Party. Her head is hung, propped-up against the hood and when she senses the eyes on her she straightens, breathing a sigh. But Will was already shaking his head.

"What? No, no way," he says to Mike and the others, Y/n already turning to him. "No, Y/n, I don't think it's a good idea,"

"I don't like it either," Y/n fretted. "but it's our best chance. The Mind Flayer hates me, and I can push his limits. It's the fastest way."

"And if, by some random chance, Billy isn't the host?" Will countered gently. "He'd find out about you,"

Y/n didn't have a reply for that. Truthfully, she didn't know whether to be relieved or angered he had cornered her. She just stood there, frowning at the concrete sidewalk biting her lip thoughtfully. She tried to think of a way to use her abilities subtly, but all her experience with heat came from seismic blasts or concentrated bursts from her hands. If she attempted that on Billy, he would surely know it.

"There's gotta be another way," Mike cuts in. "I mean, a safe way that doesn't risk you getting hurt or discovered."

Y/n and Will - even El - shoot him a funny look and he shifts under the sudden attention, guiltily.

"What about the sauna?" Lucas says, lighting up.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, it's perfect!" He grins, stepping out from around the car and motioning for Will and Mike. "Come on,"

Seemingly catching onto Lucas's idea, Mike wastes no time in following. And Will hesitantly steps away, sending Y/n and his friends an apologetic shrug.

"Where are you going?" El called after them, exasperated.

"Sorry! Boys only!" Mike throws over his shoulder.

Max scowls after them. "Seriously?!"

"Just trust us!" Lucas cries.

"We'll be back," Will shrugs again. "... I guess."

The three friends sigh, throwing less than impressed looks at the retreating boys. Privately, Y/n wondered if Mike stood any chance of harm just from her glaring at him in this moment. She hadn't shared these feelings with anyone, but since reuniting with Will something had been troubled Ling him and he wouldn't say what. She could spot it right away, the shift in demeanor but she knew it was something different from the return of the Mind Flayer somehow. And she believed it had something to do with Mike.

He was acting differently around him. He had been for some time now, as she had with Max and even El but this was different. Something had happened, and because Will was, well, Will, he was clearly trying to put aside for the sake of everyone's safety. Y/n couldn't really blame him there, but she wished he would open up to her. Tell her what was wrong.

And she wished more than anything she could fix whatever Mike had clearly broken.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"All we gotta do is wait until the pool closes and everyone leaves," Lucas begins, guiding his friends through the first layer of the men's locker rooms. "And then get him from here..."

He steps forward, quickly ripping open the secondary door. The three boys scurry inside, and Lucas's friends quickly seem to catch on to his plan and a small smile grows on Will's face.

"And get him into here," Lucas eagerly rips open the sauna door, expecting to see nothing but steam but his luck had run out.

Five sweaty adult men in towels sat packed in the sauna like sardines, scowls on their faces for the three party members who interrupted their steam. "Hey! Shut the door!"

-"Come on, kid!"

-"Shut it!"

Lucas finally broke from his stupor and slammed the door shut, shuddering.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth,"

Will nodded with a grimace, but shook it off when his eyes landed on the wall beside the door.

"The controls!"

Mike's still bulging, haunted eyes finally broke away from their zoning out and jumped to the wall where Will was pointing. His face lit up.

"We can control from the outside, it's perfect!"

"Do you think it'll get hot enough?" Will asks, feeling more and more relieved by the second. "Like, "Y/n" hot?"

His friends immediately stopped, looking to him with a deadpan expression. Will scoffed at them. "You know what I mean" he snarked, not in the mood though he was trying to ignore the hint of a blush creeping up on his skin.

"Nevermind that," Lucas says. "Look right, here, 220 degrees. That's definitely enough."

"Okay, so we just need to figure out how to get him into here," Will nods towards the sauna door.

"Precisely."

"Then we lock him in," Mike says.

Lucas nods. "-heat him up,"

And Will manages another somewhat relieved smile. "-and no matter what happens, we'll know for sure."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Erica descends from the latter, the flashlight in her hands flicking off with a loud click as she strides up to the break room table where her recruits stood waiting. The group had taken a calculated risk I confiding in the young girl, but she was smart and demanded the information and why they needed to know if she could fit into the air duct in the back room. So here they stood, waiting with anxious breath for her verdict.

"Yeah, I don't know," she says, propping herself up on the edge of the table rather unimpressed.

"You don't know if you can fit?" Dustin asks.

"Oh, I can fit. I just don't know if I want to,"

"Are you claustrophobic?" Robin tries.

Amused, Erica gives the young woman a pitiful laugh. "I don't have phobias."

"Okay, well," Steve begins with a shrug. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is I still haven't heard what's in this for Erica,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Steve slides another banana boat ice cream float across the table, joining the already plentiful dairy banquet laid out for the Sinclair girl. She merely gave it a single, disinterested glance and slid it back.

"More fudge please,"

Nobody said anything. And Steve just stared back at the table with tired, glazed-over eyes before Erica sent him a dismissive wave.

"Go on,"

He gave a sigh, and left the booth with the Banana boat in hand, and retreated to the counter. Robin took that as her cue and pulled out the marked-up blueprints she had at her side.

"Alright, you see this?" She points from the circle marked Scoops Ahoy and trail connecting over the flipped map. "This is the route you're gonna take. Then we just wait until the last delivery goes out tonight then you knock out the grate. Jump down. Open the door."

"Then you find out what's in those boxes?" She asks.

"Exactly,"

"And you say this guard is armed?"

"Yes," Dustin quickly nods. "But he won't be there,"

"And booby traps?"

"Booby traps?" Robin echoed.

"Lazers, spikes in the wall,"

Robin couldn't help but give a small laugh, but Erica was all too serious. She turned to the two with a serious look.

"You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child endangerment."

"We'll be in radio contact with you the whole time-"

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" Erica stops her. "Child. Endangerment."

Robin sighs, ignoring the knot wanting to twist in her stomach. She knew she was right, and Robin supposed she just didn't want to admit to herself what they were asking not only of themselves but the young girl.

"Erica?" Dustin began. "Hi, uh... We think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm. Don't you love your country?"

"You can't spell America without Erica," she shrugs, taking a long and loud sip from her complimentary Scoops Shake.

Dustin just blinks at her response and concedes with a nod. "Uh... yeah. Oddly, that's uh... weirdly true, so... so! Don't do this for us! Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America, Erica."

Erica, who had been slurping her drink through her straw throughout his entire speech, finally finished it off and shivered, sending him a smirk. "Ooh! I just got the chills."

Dustin smiled proudly.

"Oh, yeah," she quickly corrects, her smile falling. "From this float. Not your speech."

His smile falls right off his face.

"You know what I love most about this country?" Erica began. "Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?"

Both Robin and Dustin mumble a 'yeah'.

"It means this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And this seems to me that my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So-"

Robin and Dustin share a worried look.

"-you want my help? This U.S.S. Butterscotch better be the first of many. And I'm talking free ice cream for life,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Lifting Up Auvionna "Auvi" Smith:

Muslim Aid - Save Palestine Emergency:

Help Latino Community on Lake Street:

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

48 notes · View notes

bittybattybunny · 3 years

Note

ok Bunn I managed to read the fused sentence *gun points you* tell me about this new AUs ideas.... pleas?

try me nonny----

anyhow the biggest one I've been playing with is one where Eclipse is a forest god playing human (tho there's more to it) trying to stop the hunting of wolves under order of King Arulius Law

So there's been an influx of missing livestock and a few villagers have been murdered, the first assumption is the wolf pack of the Horizon woods (also called "the lost woods" due to legends of how those who go in don't come out) So he puts out an ad for a wolf hunter

he ends up hiring someone (rather his aide does) and the attacks somewhat stop.

One day when doing rounds near the guards he sees some of the knights sparring against a lone woman and inquires who she is and is told she's the hunter hired for the wolves. He calls her over to speak and asks her name to which she replies she has no name and he can just call her "the wolf hunter" or something. he decides to call her "Wolf" in the meantime and doesn't get how someone has no name.

he gets annoyed because something about her seems familiar but he can't place it. He grows curious more so when he catches her playing with his daughter (He had been married but Vanessa passed during a bad winter and bad health. He's referred to as the "Ice King" because he can seem cold towards relationships but he really just doesn't want to get close because he's still hurt)

One of the times he's passing the guards again when he's sparring and sees her win he asks if she wants "apples with cinnamon and honey" which confuses her and he is also confused by her reaction because "you said it's your favorite" meanwhile others are confused when she ever could have said that since they only met briefly and had no other direct conversations and she herself actually wonders how he could recall that. She does confirm yes that is her favorite food for him and he's happy to be right.

The two go to the kitchen where she scoops harriet up enticing laughter from the girl and harriet admits she's been learning self defense from the wolf hunter.

over a few months, the king finds himself talking more with the hunter and she explains that she's sure the wolves aren't the cause and admits she trusts him enough to prove it. She takes him to the forest edge and whistles. Then a pack of wolves appears and all are docile to her. She explains there is only one pack in the horizon woods and they were human-friendly. she tells the king her theory that the wolves are simply the scapegoat for a bigger issue. She tells him how the missing livestock doesn't actually line up with how the wolves hunt and she's sure there's something more going on.

And then

Tradgey

Harriet is kidnapped and no one can find her. Eclipse ends up running into the woods with her wolves and when she's alone shapeshifts into a giant white wolf. With her pack she's able to track Harriet and her abductors down. It turns out to be a local group who've been trying to slowly embezzle country funds and are the ones responsible for the missing villagers and livestock (they are taking them to sell black market) Eclipse confronts them, protecting Harriet and is shot by an arrow in the shoulder. She's able to capture the offenders and leaves before the royal guard and the king show up.

Stories crop up over how the king solved the matter and he corrects he didn't (he may be king but he thinks credit goes where it needs to) and when he's watching the guards and wolf hunter notices she's having a harder time sparring. When resting he asks whats the issue and she says she just got a 'splinter' in her shoulder. he asks her what her plans are and she admits she's going to go home since she has to. her contract is over. this distresses the king as he's grown so used to having her around. she tells him he'll get over that as people can't remember someone without a name and if he looks he'd see people have already forgotten her (the credit for finding the culprits is hers but everyone thinks its the king) he asks her what she wants as a reward and she says she wants a memorial for 137 lost children who were left to die in the woods. He finds this odd but complies.

After a few days Harriet is telling her dad about the cool forest god who saved her (cuz when eclipse helped her in wolf form she growled at the men it was her forest and she was the forest's protector) and how she hopes the wolf is okay cuz of the arrow. this sets off alarms in her dad's head.

The king goes to find the hunter but no one knows who he's talking about. He also finds himself forgetting her face and a certain phrase she said sticks out ("you're a lying king you know, don't make promises you can't keep.") and he finds himself going to the woods often looking for someone but he can't recall.

During this time Eclipse isn't doing great, the wound on her shoulder becoming infected due to poison on the arrow tip meant to hurt spirits.

As the king keeps coming back he finds himself recalling forgotten things from when he was young. how he used to be friends with a count's daughter and slowly he begins to realize he completely forgot her. he finally realizes why he keeps going to the woods and begs them to give Eclipse back. using her name he calls for her right as she ends up falling from a tree and he catches her and immediately brings her to a doctor.

She's in shock when she notices she's had her wound dealt with and the king is sleeping on a chair beside her bed. When he wakes up he just starts crying and apologizing and admitting he really is a lying king. She's confused until he says her name and she realizes he recalled her.

She starts crying too and he asks her to never leave again, he's already begun spreading her name through the country so everyone knows who she is. She laughs and says she's just glad someone remembered her. The doctor admits she's never heard of the woods giving someone back so the king must have impressed it. Eclipse is able to explain what had happened to her and how she was thrown away to the woods by her adoptive uncle after the death of her parents when they were children. The forest took her name and humanity since she had a strong magic affinity. She was taken in by the prior spirit, a large goat like satyr who raised her and he passed on when she gave him a name. She had been keeping the forest safe and keeping the number of "lost ones" down even becoming a forest spirit herself. When the forest was upset over the wolf hunts she was allowed out and when she saw him she was hurt to really be forgotten but did her best despite it. She also admits she was sad to return to the woods but saw no other way as she couldn't give her name as it was taken. So the fact he recalled is what saved her.

She ends up becoming human again and staying in the castle and becomes known as the Ice Kings Wolf Queen and they never have issues with the woods again and rule happily and peacefully.

(the forest gave her back because the king had the memorial for the lost children built. this pleased the forest greatly to the point it let him have Eclipse)

I have a few other things Im in the works on but that's the fleshed out one that's been my brain rot for the past week

#ask #anon #bun rambles #the other stuff is just random cheesey romcoms #Like Eclipse works at a yarn shop and Arulius is an etsy maker but he's shy and always fibs saying he's buying it for his mom #but like she can see right through him and gives him recocmendations #he buys more than he needs a lot just to talk to her longer #her boss thinks its cute and works with her friends to hook them up #then there's the one where both are art students and they fight over studio space #she's a sculptor and he's a painter and they bicker but everyone on campus is convinced they are fucking #the joke being they arent but they really want to but are convinced the other actually hates them #also just been thinking about my howl au a lot as well #but thats gonna happen when i binge the movie

11 notes · View notes

dystovian · 4 years

Text

The Last of Us: How to Disappear Completely

Chapter 3: Burrow

Summary: The aftermath of death is never nice, especially with the end of the world. You felt you knew how to deal with it, and that’s by moving on as quick as possible. Sawyer, takes this personally, and lets you have a piece of their mind.

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader (Future)

Warning(s): Language, Talks about Death and Suicide, Arguing, Injuries.

A/N: ok one more chapter i think and joel comes into play! thank u for reading!!

Tags: @hrk-fic-recs

Often, before your sister had disappeared, you wouldn’t really bother thinking about the past. You had your future right in front of you, because for all you knew, you and her would be just fine. But, the second you realized she wouldn’t return, and was likely rotting in some field or some building, or running around Infected...it’s all you could think about.

You’d think about the way you grimaced at melted red popsicles and how they stuck to your fingers, coating your skin with red juice. You’d think about how you’d fallen off your bike, not wearing any knee guards and crying out in the street due to the skin on your kneecaps peeling away. You’d mostly think about luxuries, stuff you’d never experience again. Stuff that were so far away from this life, that had left a mark on you.

Something that never left, though? Was grief. Grief followed every living thing with a heartbeat and snuck up on it every chance it got. Grabbed you by the roots of your hair and tossed you to the ground. Grief, which seemed to have a festival just about every second of every day now, with the way things fell apart. Exploding into millions of sparks just like the fireworks on the beach that day.

This was evident now, what with the way the young teenager in the room across from you hasn’t stopped crying, even within their sleep their tears are evident, dripping over their nose and onto the sheets. Evident, shown in the way your shoulders shook violently as the body of a young girl whom you just saw yesterday lay behind you.

In the past, grief was more of a long time thing. Where you could sit in your room and cry all day after your cat had died. But now — with the world gone to shit — it’s different. Someone dies, you cry for a minute, maybe even not at all, then you suck it up. You get the fuck over it, and you move the hell on. Do what they couldn’t, survive, live for them.

Except, you haven’t. You’ve barely even bothered. Sometimes, though, you get this burst of energy. Telling you to go out on a run, get some supplies to help live just a little longer. But you can’t leave Sawyer, not when they’ve barely even spoken, and the last time they did, they made it quite clear of their feelings. Of the state of their mind since the loss of their sister.

“You’ve barely eaten your dinner, y’know.” You had said one night, windows covered with thick wool blankets, and candles lit along the house.

“Mhm.” They muttered, slumped in their chair, eyes staring at the food on their plate.

“Please...you’ve got to eat, Soy. It’ll kill you.” You said, placing your utensils on the wood, leaning forward.

“Awesome.” They scoffed, almost sliding the plate into your lap with the force of their hand.

“Seriously? Are you..” You’d paused in disbelief, “Are you seriously just gonna let yourself fucking starve to death? Sawyer, you need to listen to me. We’re gonna need more food soon, and if I’m going alone, you need to be fit enough to keep watch on this place. Oka-“ You stopped when Sawyer abruptly stood, hands clenched into fists on the wood of the dining room table, head hanging.

“You wanna go? Then fuckin’ go! I don’t give a shit if you leave me here and I certainly don’t care if Infected tear me to goddamn shreds.” They said, tears piling up upon their eyelids.

“You, you do not mean that,” You were standing now, chair almost falling with the force of your movement. Your eyes were wide, with eyebrows raised, shock filing through you.

“Oh, I meant every damn bit of that sentence.” They scoffed.

“Take it back.”

“I ain’t takin’ back sh-“ Their finger goes to point at you, and the second they do, it’s slapped away.

“Take it the fuck back! You listen to me, and you listen to me good. I am not, and I mean absolutely not, going to feel responsible for somebody else dying. I am sick and fucking tired of death, and I know for damn sure you are too. Hell, every last person is! But, and I hate to say this shit you, but you need to move on. You and I both know that’s what Ryan would want. So, take. It. The. Fuck. Back.” You were angry, of course you were. You loved the two of them, they were family to you, and with one of them gone you knew you couldn’t live after you lost the other.

“Well, have you ever stopped to think about what I fucking want? Ryan is dead! Ryan doesn’t have wants or needs or...or anything! I want to die! I don’t want to live anymore. Get that through your thick skull. And, for the love of all that’s ever been holy, quit actin’ like you knew us. You don’t, and won’t, know shit. You didn’t raise us, and you weren’t there when everything went to shit. We’re not your fuckin’ children. And we sure as shit ain’t your sister!” By the time they let it all out, you had sat back down and had taken the blow.

“That’s how it is, then? Hm?”

“Yeah. And quit telling me what I’m ‘supposed’ to do. I’ll move on when I damn well please, and you know what? Fuck you. You already movin’ on after we just pieced my sister back together and buried her in the backyard. The backyard, of some house, that we only knew for a year! She should’ve died old, with a family, or something! She...she should’ve died normally. Old age, or a stroke, or a fuckin’ heart attack...I don’t know! But instead, she got eaten alive, and blew her brains out before she could become one of those things! So don’t talk to me about moving on, when we both know there’s no moving on from that.” They were in front of you now, tears streaming over the red of their cheeks, face hot from anger.

Since then, you’ve barely spoken to the other. Choosing to stay quiet during dinner, which began happening less and less with your shortage of food. You finally came to Sawyer one day, and told them that you couldn’t stay here any longer. That the streets have more and more Infected every week, and the whole town is empty of food.

They agreed, nodding their head in silent agreement, eyes drawn away from your own.

2 0 2 5.

Illinois.

Ryan’s name hasn’t left either of your mouths. Not during dinner, not even in passing. Not even in your sleep, did either of you cry out her name and sob afterwards.

After everything that happened, you left the house. The room she died in was loud, almost frighteningly so, and filled with the phantom screams of her last moments. Something, that both you and her sister, couldn’t quite stand beside anymore. So, you left. Walked and walked and walked, barely talking to the other at first. And sure as hell keeping her name out of your mouth.

You didn’t say her name again until a group took you in, asked you about your past, and you delivered. Spilled your hearts content onto the plastic table in front of you, until you broke down, and the lovely couple in front of you — Alex and his wife, Amy — stopped you, rubbing their hands on your back.

Although you’ve been through hell and back these last six years, Ryan always lingered. You’d see her in the corpses that littered streets and the homes you’d spend a few nights in. See her in the way Sawyer carried themself, or spoke, or cried.

You didn’t forgive eachother, you rarely talked of that argument in the dining room that night. You simply opted to get the hell over it, if you don’t talk about it then I guess it just didn’t happen. And now, being taken in by this group that call themselves the Burrowers, the conversation is begging to be had.

Sawyer didn’t stay with you long, you shared a home for four days before they left, got their own place. And you haven’t seen them since.

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #tlou x reader #tlou #the last of us x reader #the last of us

25 notes · View notes

splat-dragon · 4 years

Link

The man that looked him in the eye on that mountain, though, was Dutch. The one he’d known for twenty years, that had cradled him and loved him and known him and taught him. He knew his tells, knew his eyes.

And that man, the one who was silent though he’d never known him to be, was his Pa.

‘Pa, please don’t go. I don’t want to die alone.’

Thank you to @thedoodlenoodle-wa who got my butt in gear to finish this that has totally not been sitting in my WIPs for over a year

Written to this version of Knockin' on Heaven's Door

He couldn’t breathe.

His face was throbbing, his chest was burning. Micah had done a number on him, and his only solace was that he would die of his wounds instead of his illness. But… he didn’t want to die. There was so much he still wanted to do, he was terrified. He still had so much he needed to do.

He needed to talk to Dutch, get him to see that he was wrong. That following Micah would only drag him further into ruin, further down than he was already, if that was possible. He had already lost Hosea, had lost those he had raised as sons and daughters, to death and to leaving in hopes of a better life. What more could he lose?

His life, he supposed. But with all of his gang lost, everything he had built up destroyed, did he have much of a life left to lose?

No, not really. As much as Dutch had changed, he still loved them: the gang was as much his family as they were Arthur’s. If Arthur lost them… he would be crushed. He’d never be able to go on. Would go insane, most likely, lose his mind—they were all that was keeping him together. He’d rather die than lose them, couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t surrounded by his brothers and sisters in arms.

‘I don’t want to die.’

He wanted Hosea.

Desperately.

When he was a kid and he was sick or hurt, or just needed attention, the old man (although he hadn’t been that old back then) would sit with him, tell him that it would be okay, would card his fingers through his hair. Read aloud to him from whatever book he was reading at the time, even if Arthur didn’t understand a word of it. Tell him about one of his favorite cons or heists, and Arthur would be just as fascinated as the first time he’d heard it, even if it was the hundredth time.

But Hosea was dead, wasn’t he? He’d been shot in front of him, captured in that damned bank robbery that had gone so, so wrong. He’d been made to watch him turn to stare his death in the eye, collapse to the ground in a spray of blood and writhe pitifully in pain. His pa’s death hadn’t been dignified, or peaceful, or even something worth telling stories of as he had wanted; he hadn’t died in some amazing shoot-out, or protecting his family. He’d been shot down in the streets like some mangy, flea-ridden dog. Made the most horrific sound as he’d been torn open, punched through by a bullet and put down without a second thought.

If Hosea was still alive… well, this wouldn’t be happening. He would never have allowed Lenny to be shot on that rooftop, Micah to bring in Joe and Cleet, Dutch to stir the pot that was the Wapiti and the government. Would never have allowed Susan to be shot down as she had been. He would have been horrified, heartbroken, to see Dutch walk away from their sons and Arthur wondered if, perhaps, it was better that the man wasn’t around to see how far his pa had fallen.

Could Hosea have fixed things? Dutch had been falling for years, but he’d only gotten worse since Micah had joined them, worse since he hit his head, worse since Hosea died. No, maybe not. But Hosea could have lessened the impact. Could have gotten them all out before Dutch broke, could have kept them from being hit by the shrapnel, from being collateral damage. Could have restrained the ticking time bomb such that only Micah and Joe and Cleet were affected, so that only they were left to deal with the fall-out when Dutch drew the Pinkertons down on their heads, when Dutch turned on his family.

But Hosea was gone, and they had all been damaged. Shrapnel had dug deep, the shock-wave doing damage that no one could see, but that they would feel for the rest of their lives. Still, though, he wanted Hosea. He was sick, sicker than he had ever been. He wanted Hosea to sit with him, to run his fingers through his hair and read Rip Van Wrinkle or Robin Hood or any of those other books he seemed to always be re-reading, or even those books that Arthur could never remember even the title of, never mind the contents.

‘I want Hosea.’

Dutch wasn’t saying anything.

He wasn’t sure what he, himself, was saying. There was some sort of disconnect between his mouth and his brain, his mind fuzzy, his ears buzzing, and the edges of his eyesight had gone grey, but Dutch was a solid figure, as sturdy and unchanged as always.

And he had nothing to say.

For as long as Arthur could remember, Dutch always had something to say. He was always talking, always moving. Gesturing, pacing, orating.

But when it mattered, he was silent.

And then the pressure lifted from his hand, released his broken fingers, and Dutch made some sort of noise, an involuntary sort of one, a moan or a groan or a gasp, and then he was walking - staggering - away.

Perhaps it was Arthur’s fading mind trying to comfort him, but he could have sworn that he saw a tear in his Pa’s eye.

‘Dutch, please don’t leave me.’

He’d never been one to fear death.

It was part and parcel of their life. When your job included bullets flying, being chased by the law and by bounty hunters, then you became desensitized to death. He’d gone through being sick with the Russian Flu as a teenager, with Hosea and Dutch at his side for fear he might die alone, had suffered Scarlet Fever much the same. Had been bitten by more snakes than he could count on both hands, been bed-ridden by near half of them, had nearly died from so many bullet wounds that it was almost a common occurrence for him.

When he’d nearly died of an infection of the blood after escaping the O’Driscolls, he’d been angry and indignant, not mad. He’d sworn up and down that he would see Colm dead before he died, to protect his family from the man’s machinations, and he’d be damned before he died of an infection of all things.

And Hosea had, laughing wearily, said that it was that anger that had made him live. He was just too damn angry to die.

But now? Lying alone on the cold stone, bleeding out, drowning in his own blood, watching as his father walked away, abandoning him to whatever death took him?

‘I’m scared.’

They’d always been there for him.

From the moment they’d pulled him from the mud, shivering of the cold, his lips tinted blue, a sigh in Hosea’s chest and an offer on Dutch’s lips, he had always been able to count on them.

They’d fed him up, put a gun in his hand and taught him to read. Hadn’t needed to - he’d have been a perfectly good little soldier if he were illiterate - but had done so out of the goodness of their blackened hearts. Had sat for hours, put up with his sulks and whining, spent years shoving books in front of him until he could read even Dutch’s philosophy books, even if he didn’t understand them.

When he’d fallen from the saddle, his pa never having taught him how to ride proper, they’d been there to pat the dirt from his shoulders and to boost him back up, to teach him that you always get back up on that horse, and to teach him how to ride a horse. How to sit a trot, how to show it how to go, how to hold on as you let it have its head when fleeing the law. How to break a wild horse, how to coax away a stolen horse.

And when he’d had his son, his baby boy Isaac, they’d been there to hold him close, to smile proud as any grandpas would be, to love and adore him, to give him gifts they’d made themselves, to hum and sing even if Dutch didn’t look particularly comfortable, afraid he’d break him.

And when Isaac and Eliza had been killed, they’d mourned with him.

They’d been there as he grew up, as he grew sour. Talked him down when he turned surlish, snarled and snapped, knew when to pull him aside and tug him in close, squeeze him tight and tuck his head under their chins until he stopped shaking, until the world stopped thrumming and he could breathe again.

No matter what, they’d been there for him. When he was scared he could turn to them, find them there, ready to lend an ear or just sit as he sketched, or look at the stars, or nothing in particular at all. Sometimes it had seemed suffocating, as though he couldn’t take a step without stumbling over them, but at that moment he’d give anything to have them back.

‘I want my dads.’

They’d never turned their backs on him.

Not when he’d been cruel - when he’d turned to the bottle after his baby boy had been killed, taking out his agony on the world, not when he’d tried to test them when he was young and mad at the world, at everyone and everything, terrified of them, sure that they had some motives he couldn’t yet see and trying to test them.

But they’d never turned their back on him. Sometimes they’d step away, take a breather if he was drawing their ire, but never did they give up on him. They’d pull him to sit by the campfire, try to talk to him or just sit with him, wait for him to cool down and wait for calmer heads to prevail.

Maybe… maybe things had changed as the world raced ahead of them. Dutch had grown suspicious but, even then, he’d never turned his back on him. Not until Lone Mule Stead - before then he’d accused him of being a traitor, of intending on betraying him in the future.

But he’d left him to rot there, to be tortured and to die. He’d sworn, up and down, that he’d been intending to come for him, but Arthur had known him for twenty years and though Dutch was a fantastic liar, it came with the territory after all, he had his tells.

And Dutch had been lying.

But then he’d been Dutch again - playing, racing him and calling him his son, taking he and Hosea fishing and singing in the boat, eyes bright and clear and playfully directing them as they all sang their ridiculous songs.

And he’d saved him on the cliff. Could have fled, left him to be chased by the military. But he’d even covered his back and sent him ahead. Curled around him as they leaped into the river, risked wading into the current to grab his arm and haul him out, waited as he fought to breathe, fighting his traitorous lungs, only leaving once he was breathing steadily or, at least, as steadily as his breathing got these days.

But then came the oil fields, and he’d turned his back and left him to die. He’d been so happy only moments before - “Arthur… we are nearly there…” - and then he’d looked him in the eye, his hands on his guns (and Dutch was a quick shot, it was a shot he’d made thousands, if not millions, of times before), and walked away.

Dutch wasn’t his Dutch anymore, he could tell that now.

Wasn’t his Pa.

Wasn’t the man who laughed and distracted him from the pain of his wounds being tended with ridiculous stories, who would put on weird hats as he told of how he got them. Wasn’t the man who held him in his arms and rocked him when he suffered the sadness he got from his mother, who knew how to talk him down when he lost himself to the anger his father gave to him.

Wasn’t the man who hummed and cradled John when the kid woke up screaming, clawing at a noose that wasn’t there. Who laughed and played horsy with Jack when he thought no one was looking - wasn’t even the man who snuck treats to Cain behind Pearson’s back, who twirled Molly by the campfire and took in Sadie up in Colter.

The man that looked him in the eye on that ledge, though, was Dutch. The one he’d known for twenty years, that had cradled him and loved him and known him and taught him. He knew his tells, knew his eyes.

And that man, the one who was silent though he’d never known him to be, was his Pa.

‘Pa, please don’t go. I don’t want to die alone.’

25 notes · View notes

illuxions-x · 3 years

Text

A Little Death

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m not sure just a little story concept I came up with at 3 am and ran with. enjoy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing this bad was supposed to happen here. Ever.

It wasn’t me who came up with the idea of writing everything down. I can’t remember who did, but as soon as it was mentioned everyone else seemed to like the idea too.

I'm not sure what they expect me to write exactly, but I was voted the most capable to do so out of everyone, which of course I disagree with but I don’t really hate the idea of documenting this. So if no one else will I guess it can’t hurt to give it a crack.

Eva had to dig around her room for a couple minutes to find a journal, which she must have forgotten she had because there were no more than four small sketches we had to rip out for the book to be completely empty.

I tried sitting in the living room to write, I thought maybe being around everyone would give me more inspiration to write but all that happened was everyone decided to crowd around me, all staring at the blank paper in anticipation as though whatever I wrote would impact the universe forever. I couldn’t stand it, how do they expect me to write with them hovering over me like that.

There is a reason why I was the one chosen though, because even though I have the messiest handwriting that absolutely no one can read, I'm good with getting down the small things, like the feelings.

But I want anyone reading this to know that this is me writing about my feelings and my feelings only, not Eva’s and not Noah’s. My feelings, my experiences. That's the only way this is going to work.

The only one out of all 9 of us that lived out of town was Eva, a sweet farm girl that likes to bake. We’re all lucky to be friends with her, I’m not sure if we would even be alive if we didn’t have a place out of town to stay.

I’ll be forever grateful to Eva for that.

I found a spot on the balcony, kind of huddled up in the corner. I even brought a blanket to make sure I didn’t get cold.

It's a nice spot, the balcony is where I usually have a smoke in the morning, usually with warm tea and a book every now and then. The deck squeaks wherever you step and the railings are slowly rotting away, someone will probably have to fix them soon before one of us ends up falling over the edge.

There isn’t much to do here though, everyone kind of just sits around when they’re not on watch. A few people have just finished building a garden on the roof but we need to make a small trip to a house to get seeds because I don’t think anyone thought we would even get this far ahead.

The view is nice here, the property has a bunch of gum trees surrounding it which gives us just a little bit more cover, but god do the kookaburras get loud in the morning, I honestly don’t think I’ve slept in past 7 or 8 am in months.

There’s a creek a couple hundred meters from ‘the shack’. That’s what we’ve nicknamed Eva’s, it fits pretty well too. The house is pretty run down, been here a couple decades but I think it’s the perfect place to hideout.

I know I should be writing about other things, but I feel like I have to set the scene or maybe if you’re reading this you’ve already skipping my monologue and gotten to the actual beginning, which hasn’t been written yet but it’s probably there for you.

Hopefully.

It’s been pretty boring here the last few weeks, and this has been the best idea anyone's had in a while. I feel a little guilty I have to admit, Noah seemed to really like the idea of writing everything down and I could tell he secretly wanted to be the one writing. He is a good writer too, he hasn’t said anything yet and I doubt he will.

He’s too nice to say anything, so it will probably eat away at him until he either decides to write his own version, or forget about it and do something else.

Noah is a sweetheart really, but he wasn't with us from the very beginning, he came a little bit later, so I guess it made sense that he wasn't the one chosen.

There's not much more to now than to get into the ‘story’, I’m not really sure how to do it so I’m going to start in the beginning and work my way from there to now, which should be fine if my memory is working fine.

I’m going to start in Psychology class, double period on a Friday, God it feels like a lifetime since I’ve been in a classroom and it's not like I ever hated school, it's just a bit of you don't know what you have until it's gone.

By the start of the second session an announcement was made over the loudspeaker, the principle calling a lockdown. This was odd for more than one reason.

The first being this is Australia, everyone doesn’t walk around with guns freely. The second is I haven’t had a real lockdown since grade 3 when some crackhead walked into school with a cricket bat trying to hit tiny fairies.

So we all just assumed it was a drill, even the teacher did. That was at least until Mrs Reece got an email.

I remember her asking the class who had gotten the COVID vaccine, at least half the class put their hands up, a couple of them being my friends, Ellie Newton, Emily Jackson, Jake Cross and Lucas Walker.

They were taken out of the class by some other teacher, I can't remember his name but he taught P.E which I didn’t do, obviously. He had a whole group of kids with him, saying anyone that was vaccinated had to go to the gym immediately, so when everyone left there weren't many people in the room-no more than 15 year 11’s.

But I never saw that group of people again.

It only took a couple minutes and the remaining people were moved to the second gym, the old one that we only used when the new one was being used for something else. I just remember it being full of students who were all crowded in small groups all as clueless as we were.

The remaining 500 or so people of all year levels were told to sit, they set up the projector and started playing the news. I remember saying something to Sarah next to me along the lines of, ‘wow all this for the queen finally dying’. It was funny at the time I promise.

But instead of showing the royal family the screen showed people running around the city in what I can only describe as anarchy, cars were on fire and there were just bodies laying there on the road like roadkill.

It didn’t take long for someone to say it though, we were waiting for someone to shout it.

‘Zombie Apocalypse!’

I still get shivers even now, thinking about how quickly everything changed.

The news broadcast explained that the only people that were infected currently were people who got the vaccine, and it only took a few moments for things to click in my brain.

Everyone else in my family got the vaccine except me, Mum and Mad got theirs so they could go back to work, and my younger sister had to get hers done to be accepted back at kindergarten.

Not to mention the vaccine wasn’t cheap, $40 per dose. So I decided I could live without it for an extra week to two to make sure we had enough money for bills and food.

Maybe my parents being broke was what saved my life.

Then the police came and told us we couldn’t leave, which only made me want to leave even more. I felt trapped while my family was at home turning into mindless brain eaters.

I guess that was where our plan began, none of us wanted to stay there in the old gym that smelled too much like sweaty socks. The plan wasn’t even that good, we only got out by dumb luck that 10 police officers couldn’t keep tabs on everyone.

So we all went to the toilets a couple minutes apart from each other, climbing out of the small window. It was a miracle we all even fit.

I don’t know what happened to the kids that stayed in that gym, but I haven’t seen another kid from school since that day, well not alive at least.

1 note · View note

alluremin · 6 years

Text

the bad in each other | 1

pairing | jeon jungkook x female reader

genre | zombie apocalypse au

premise | A year after the world goes to hell, you find yourself still alive by the grace of whatever watched over you. You’ve seen people you care about being torn to shreds before your eyes. You’ve seen horrors that, before the infection struck, you couldn’t have imagined. The place you once knew, called home, was gone. All that remained were the mindless dead and humans who had lost their humanity. Now, you can do nothing but protect those you love, no matter the cost.

warnings | angst, extreme violence, smut (future parts), swearing, alcohol use

word count | 5.1k

parts | intro • one • two • three • ?

playlist | inspo | character profiles

Their screams play on a loop in your brain. The smell of rotting flesh and gun smoke refuse to leave your nose. Jae’s footsteps crunch the fallen leaves on the ground, Kate briefly stumbles over a broken the railroad tie covered by the dead foliage. It’s been three days since it happened.

****

You, Jae, and Kate have been with a community since the start. Everybody called it “Safe Haven”, and it was just that. The large walls surrounding the rustic cabins and the fertile soil made for a sustainable community. Children, like Jae, laughed and played, all the while learning the ways of the new world. You all thought that you were safe from harm, from the dead, but you thought wrong. It was three days ago when a horde heard those laughing children inside your community walls and knocked them from their foundation. It’s been three days since nearly everybody you knew and love died right before your eyes, and you did nothing to help.

Jae and his mother came to the community a couple weeks after you and Kate. She was sick and without proper treatment, wouldn’t last the year. There weren’t a lot of you back then, the original members of Safe Haven were mostly men, hunters who lived their lives in the woods. Then there was you and Kate, med students who soon became healers in the community. Then there was Jae and his mother. You spent a lot of time with the, now 13-year-old, and his mom. She deteriorated quickly without her treatment, and a month after their arrival she passed. You had to take care of her after she was gone, you had learned what happened to people after they died, and Jae didn’t deserve to see her come back as one of them. Afterward, you took him under your wing and taught him all he needed to know, you promised his mom that you would.

****

You could feel your body swaying as you walked. When the three of you fled, you didn’t have time to fill your canteens or grab any food. You just grabbed your emergency backpacks and ran until the screams were far behind you. Exhaustion crept its way into your brain and everything around you went in and out of focus. Sounds are muffled, almost as if you were underwater. You don’t remember the last time you had a drink of water, slept, or eaten. Kate constantly questioned you if you had eaten any of the little food in your supply or if you’d even had a sip of the water in your canteen. You lied to her, you didn’t want her to worry about you on top of everything that you all had been through. In reality, you gave the last of your water and food to Jae, insisting that he take it, telling him that you had already had enough for yourself. You hadn’t.

Your head felt heavy, your feet starting to drag underneath you. It felt like there were cement blocks under your feet. The ground beneath you felt like it was spinning, causing you to stumble. You drop to one of your knees then and clutch the side of your head, shooting pain in your temple signaling you that something was wrong. Medical school, although you had only been in your first year, had taught you enough to know that you were battling the effects of dehydration.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jae, who was no more than a step behind you, crouches next to you and put a hand on your shoulder. His question prompts Kate to stop dead in her tracks and spin to face you.

“Oh shit, kid, what’s wrong?” You tried to giggle at her nickname she insisted on using all the time, but instead, only a heave of air comes out of your mouth. “Fuck, Jae do you have any water left?” He shakes his head in response. You close your eyes but are met with a slap on your cheek from your best friend. You knew what she was trying to do, keep you awake, keep you moving. Regardless of how hard you tried, you can’t keep your lids open, they felt heavier than cement below your brows. Under each of your elbows, you felt an arm lifting your body, Jae obviously on your right, he was shorter than Kate. You use all of your strength to move each of your legs, but it was as if you were wearing lead shoes. Black spots appeared in your limited vision, you could feel your legs give out beneath you. You could barely hear the muffled voices of the people carrying you, and you swore in the distance you could see figures approaching. You didn’t have enough time to determine if they were alive or dead before the world went black.

****

It felt as if the world had ceased to exist and you were just floating through nothingness. Every now and then, you’d catch small bits of conversation and brief flashes of light, but none that could tell you where you were. Maybe this is what happens after you die, your subconscious trying to piece together bits of information from your life. The medical side of you says that this is impossible, but who knows, maybe there is something after death. You hope that you’ll see your family again.

As quickly as the calm overtook your brain when you blacked out, did it go away. A loud ringing in your ears jolts your mind back down to Earth and a pounding headache replaces the subspace you were in not seconds before. All at once, every part of your body starts working again and when you open your eyes and are met with a wooden ceiling, you sit up as fast as your body will allow. This not only causes your headache to intensify but also brings about a headrush unlike any you had ever experienced.

“Whoa, not so fast,” a male voice you don’t recognize is accompanied by a push to your shoulder. “You’ve been out for three days, take it easy.”

You crack one eye open as the man presses your shoulders into the cushions of a couch beneath you. Not caring that moment for pleasantries, you swat his hands away from your body. This man was a stranger. “Jae? Kate?” Your hoarse voice yelps to your “family”, hoping that one of them would respond. In the corner of the room, a floorboard creaks, drawing your attention in that general direction. Jae stands and you meet his eyes as he runs over to you, falling on his knees in front of you and putting you in a crushing embrace. The strength in his scrawny body still surprises, but right now you don’t have the mental energy to tease him for it.

“I thought you were gonna’ die, y/n. You scared the shit out of me!” You pull back from him and move to sit up again, using the back of the couch to support your still weak body.

“Watch your mouth, Squirt,” you tease. The man standing next to you clears his throat, making his presence known.

“I’m Seokjin. My brother and I were out checking our rabbit traps when we saw you guys. Jae and Kate were trying to carry you, so I insisted to Jungook that we help you.”

“Uh, I’m y/n, but you probably already knew that… did you say three days?”

“Yeah, we’ve been spoon feeding you water and soup for the past couple of days. Every now and then you’d be conscious enough for us to get you some fluids, you know, without drowning you,” he sits down on the couch next to you, it’s the first time you take in his appearance. Seokjin’s hair is black, messy, and wavy. It almost looks as if he had been giving himself half-assed haircuts for the last year. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt with a blue zip-up hoodie and a pair of black jeans. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing shoes and upon wiggling your toes, you found that you weren’t either.

“Thank you, um, Seokjin. Where’s Kate?” You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for everything this guy had done for you, but your best friend’s absence was panic-inducing.

“She and Jungkook went out to get wood for the fireplace. They’ll be back in a couple minutes.” His eyes met your own and he offered you a small small, You reciprocated to the best of your ability then broke eye-contact to take in your surroundings. Everything in the room was made of wood, so you deducted that you were in a cabin. From the small window to your right, you could tell you were still in the woods and the light flooding in told you it was daytime.

Jae had since moved from his spot on the floor to sit next to you on the couch. You put your arm around his shoulder and ran your fingers through his long hair, knowing that it was soothing for him. Ever since his mom had passed, you had used it to comfort him when he was upset. You could tell that the past six days were hard on him. First with what happened at Safe Haven, then with you. The bags under his eyes told you all you needed to know. He had ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’ on his lap. You found the book for him a few months back, but you were surprised to know it was one of the things he grabbed when you escaped from the horde. “Hey Jae, how much sleep have you gotten?” You questioned him.

“I’m not sure, not knowing what was gonna happen, I dunno’ it was hard to sleep,” he dropped his head and you pulled him into another hug. You let go of him them and stretch your stiff limbs and crack your neck, alleviating some of the pressure off of your body.

“It totally slipped my mind, but can I get you something? Water, food?” Seokjin stands and walks around the side of the couch to the kitchen behind you.

“Oh, actually do you know if there’s any ibuprofen or tylenol around here? Kate usually carried some in her bag. My head is just pounding,” you smile sheepishly at him, feeling guilty for asking more from him when he and his brother had already done so much for you.

“I can get it for you,” Jae announces. You smile at him as he scampers off to the corner of the room where all of your bags are stacked together. A tap on your shoulder alerts you to Seokjin’s presence behind you, offering you a bottle of water. A smile graces your lips as you take it out of his hands, grateful for his thoughtfulness. Jae returns to your side with a bottle of acetaminophen. You pop the lid off and pour four tablets into your palm, throwing them down your throat and gulping the water to chase the dry tablets.

“Isn’t four tablets a bit much?” Seokjin questions you, sitting down in a chair next to the couch.

“Overdosing on tylenol is the least of my concerns when it feels like my head is going-” You don’t get to finish your sentence when the front door to the cabin swings open at full force. A boy, no a man, who appears about your age, bursts his way into the cabin. The sound of the door slamming against the wall sends a splitting pain through your head, and you can’t help the glare that graces you face at that moment.

“Oh. You’re awake… it’s about damn time.” You can already tell that this guy is going to be peachy. Looking forward, you can already tell your future conversations with him aren’t going to go well.

You don’t have time to respond to him when Kate barrels into the apartment, dropping the firewood she was carrying outside the door and throws herself on top of you, crushing you in a bear hug. “You scared the shit out of me, kid. Don’t ever neglect yourself like that again or I’ll kick your ass, got it?” You can’t help but laugh at her empty threat.

“I love you too, Scooter.” She pulls back then, giving you an opportunity to turn your attention back to the boy in the doorway. He was closing the doorway, but you could tell he was doing everything in his power to avoid your eye contact. He sets the ax in his hands up against the door and drops his shoulder to remove the leather jacket adorning his body. You visibly gulp at the sheer size of the muscles on his arms and back. Not to mention the sheer amount of ink the covered his arms was not only impressive but also incredibly alluring. He turns around then, catching you gawking at the sheer amount of tattoos covering his body. He only scoffs and rolls his eyes. Peachy.

“Jungkook, I’m presuming?” You push underneath you on the couch then and stand to greet him. He only raises an eyebrow at you and offers a quick nod when you meet his eyes. “I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Yeah, well, since taking you in our food supply is running low. The last thing I want to hear from you right now is a thank you considering-”

“Jungkook, knock it off,” Seokjin stands from his spot on the couch then, but his mediation doesn’t stop your anger from rising.

“Listen, I’m trying to express my gratitude toward you guys. You don't have to be an asshole about it,” You sway your weight to one of your hips and cross your arms. You can hear Jae let out a small chuckle at your snarky remark and actions.

“Hey, this isn’t funny kid, we’re all going to starve if we don’t go out for a supply run soon!” He barely gets the sentence out before you’ve grabbed onto the front of his shirt and pulled him down so that he’s eye level with you.

“Say what you want to me, but don’t you ever, take to him like that,” you release your grip on his shirt and push him backward before walking back to the couch to sit with Jae and Kate. Seokjin slowly sinks back onto the chair as he walks Jungkook stomp down the hallway. The sound of a door slamming meets your ears and you sigh in discontent. That went well.

****

Over the course of the next 24 hours, you had become well acquainted with Seokjin. You could tell that he was a good person and always did his best to lighten to mood. Under the circumstances, some people might say that he was deliriously avoiding the realities of the world, but his antics were understandable. The jokes, the childish behavior; it wasn’t to avoid the problems that plagued the planet, it was to keep himself sane. He had that effect on others too. It had only been a week since you lost your home, but with Seokjin’s presence, coping became easier. You could tell it did the same for Kate and Jae.

Jungkook hadn’t left his room until the morning after your altercation, only joining the busy living room for a brief period of time to grab a bite to eat, then leaving as quickly as he had come in. He didn’t exchange a single word with any of you, only nodding in his brother’s direction when the latter offered Jungkook a pleasant, “Good morning!”

While you were all sitting around the dining table this morning, you told Seokjin that you wanted to leave. You were strong enough now and Jae and Kate were well rested. “We’ve been nothing but a burden to you and your brother, we can find somewhere else to go. We’re just gonna’ follow the train tracks until we come across a town.”

“Y/N, I’ve seen what you have left in your supplies, you’ll never make it and we don't have enough to spare here to give you a week's worth, especially when it comes to food. Don’t Jungkook’s attitude put you off, we haven’t been with other people since the beginning of everything. He’s never been very social, but he’s even more cynical of the good in humans after everything we’ve experienced.”

“I understand that. It’s hard to believe the good in people anymore. You’d think that we’d all try to look out for one another, you know considering the whole living versus the dead thing. We’ve heard stories of rogue communities ransacking other groups, shooting first, talking later.”

“I’d like to still believe that everybody has a shred of humanity. Like you guys. I could tell you we’re good people. I mean, Kate told me that you two took in Jae after his mom passed. Taking care of him like he was your brother.” You feel a pang in your chest as you remember your family, but you push your memories of them to the wayside. Mourning over them wouldn’t bring them to you.

“He had been with us since the start, of course taking care of him a priority. I’d like to believe that there’s good in most of us still too, at least when it counts. Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay? We don’t want to be a drain on your and Jungkook’s supplies. We’re not ones to overstay our welcome,” Kate cuts in.

“Please, stay. We need you as much as you need us. It's important that people like us stick together. Having numbers will make our lives easier, both in terms of defending ourselves, and collecting supplies. More people will make everything quick and easy.”

“I suppose, yeah. Thank you again, Seokjin for everything you two have done,” you smile in his direction.

“Call me Jin, we’re friends now. Seokjin is so formal,” he feigns a look of disgust at his statement.

“Alright, Jin it is then!” You stand from the table then and make your way to the corner of the living room where your bags were. “We should go through the supplies we have and see what we need before going on a run. I suppose you have a place in mind?”

“What do you take me for, an amateur? Of course, I have a place in mind,” Jin smirks at you from across the table as you drop two of the bags on top of it.

****

Not an hour later, you all find yourselves packing up the supplies you’ll need for your run into Jin’s black pickup. Jungkook had joined you shortly after you went through your bags, he had been listening to your entire conversation, entering the room listing off supplies he thought were necessary. You didn’t want to say you hated Jungkook, but he surely had a way of getting on your nerves. You tried to be civil with him, ignore the comment under his breath and his sighs whenever you would cut into a conversation, regardless of him being cold, you could tell he was a good person. He obviously cared about his brother, and other than when you first met, he was nice to Jae and Kate. Apparently, there was something about you that aggravated him.

The five of you loaded yourselves into the cab of the truck. The driveway on the front side of the cabin was at least 2 miles long, whoever had lived in the cabin before all of this liked seclusion, to say the least. Upon pulling out on the road, Jin put his upturned palm toward his brother in the passenger side. The younger boy let out a long groan. “C’mon, why? You do this every time we go somewhere!”

“Jungkook, I am five years older than you, therefore everything I say goes!” You, Kate and Jae, watch with confusion as to what was happening in front of you. Jungkook ignored Jin, earning him a quick twist to his left nipple. You couldn’t help but giggle at their interactions, and more importantly, the squeal that left Jungkook’s mouth. He sent you a glare when he heard you in the backseat, but you held eye contact until he looked away.

“Fine,” the younger man grumbles, reaching into the glove box and pulling out a binder. When he opened it, there were sleeves full of mixed CDs, each labeled with only a date. “What one?”

“January 14, 2012, please and thank you!” Jungkook places the CD in his brother's palm. Not a second later, the sound of ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ comes through the speakers, bringing a small smile to your face. Oh, the irony.

****

You were on the road for roughly 20 minutes before you came across three cars sitting along the side of the road, they appeared untouched. Jin slowed the truck and put it in park. “Let’s see if they’ve got anything, shall we?”

You all spilled out of the cars, Jungkook going to inspect the farthest car, Jin and Kate checking the closest, leaving you and Jae with the middle. You approached the vehicle with caution, the windows were covered in a layer of dirt and dust, making it impossible to see inside. “Jae open the door, do it fast,” he nodded at your words and you stood back, the knife in your hand at the ready. He grabbed the door handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge. The car jostled with the boy's effort to open the door. Just then you heard a bang against the window from the inside of the car. You ran your fingerless leather gloves across the windows, sure enough, a stiff was inside.

“Jae, wipe off the back windows, I need to see if there’s anything in there that’s worth it.” He did as he was told, using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the window.

“There’s blankets, some clothes, a couple of cans that I can see, oh, and there’s a first aid kit in there!”

“Well, shit.” You sighed and tilted your head at the dead eyes staring back at you. There was a gunshot wound through its chest. He had taken the easy way out. Should’ve gone for the head.

You take a step back and use your boots to kick through the glass of the back window, and manually unlock the door. You hoped that the battery was dead, the last thing you needed was the alarm going off and attracting more of them. You took a deep breath and opened the door. No sound met your ears upon your action and you couldn’t help but let out an audible sigh. Your actions had since caught the attention of your group. “Everything alright?” Jin called at you.

“Yeah, just got one in our car and the doors were locked. We can handle it,” you say, looking back at Jae.

Upon leaning into the backseat the creature in front of you twists in its seat, the sound of it ripping open its own flesh off to escape the seatbelt met your ears. The mindless creature continued to thrash, knawing its teeth at you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Grabbing hold of the back of the headrest you reached your arm around and deftly plunged your knife into the soft temple of the stiff. “Shut. Up” You leaned across all the supplies in the back seat, unlocking the opposite side, Jae taking that as his cue to jog around back and join you in going through everything.

Your car had, by far, had the most supplies in it. There were blankets, a first aid kit, some cans of food, two water jugs, and a couple of large tactical knives. If it weren’t for the fact that you had five people in your group, what you all collectively found might be enough, but you needed to make sure that you were set for a while. So, you all loaded up and headed back down the load. You reached your destination about 10 minutes later.

“We’ve been scoping this town out for the past couple weeks, trying to see if it was worth it, there's a general store that's gated off, but we didn’t feel good just charging in there and looting, we didn’t know if there were any of them inside.” Jungkook glared out the window as the truck slowed down.

Jin put the car in park, having since turned the music down to reduce noise. “Okay, so Jungkook, Kate, and Y/N, you three go scope out the store. Jungkook has bolt cutters to get you in. You guys are the brutes with handheld weapons, we want to stay as quiet as possible and I think you’re our best bets. I’ll take Jae and we’re gonna survey the town and find someplace to siphon some gas.” You all nod at the oldest and can’t help but feel grateful that he’s taking Jae with him, he’ll be safer. You give Jae a quick hug and Kate reaches past you to ruffle his hair.

The three of you assigned to the store hop out of the pickup, each of you reaching into the truck and pulling out your backpacks, Jungkook grabbing an additional duffle bag to fill. Jungkook taps the side of the vehicle, and Jin drives off down the street. You pull out your Glock, and look around the area, making sure everything is clear. Jungkook crouches down with the bolt cutters and cuts off the padlock on the metal door. You and Kate cover him from the back with caution. When you hear Jungkook push the heavy door upwards, you and your best friend turn around and follow him to the set of glass doors at the storefront. He slowly pushed against them, and they open with little protest. After entering, he turned around and locked the glass doors behind you, just in case.

Upon entering the store, everything is extremely quiet. There are a few aisles, a pharmacy at the back, and ladder leading to the roof in the back of the store. Everything seemed untouched to you, and you were surprised that the store wasn’t picked over. This must have been a community that they evacuated. Considering its size, you aren’t worried about there being any of the dead in here. Instead, you make your way to the back of the store to check the pharmacy. You pop open your bag and start taking anything off the shelves that would be helpful to you, and anything that wasn’t expired yet. Painkillers, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatories made their way into your bag. You checked the counter and found a bowl of condoms sitting there. You smirked a little to yourself and justified that they wouldn't expire for five years, so you may as well take a few. You never know.

Just then you hear a bang against the front door, all three of you turning your attention in the direction of the sound. A stiff presses itself against the door, trying to get in and you look to Jungkook and Kate.

“I can get it,” Kate grabs the knife strapped to her hips and makes her way to the front door.

“No, let me,” Jungkook steps toward the door, making Kate stop in her tracks. “You have a lot more stuff to collect on that side of the store than I do.” She only nods and walks back to where she was.

As Jungkook reaches up to the lock to undo it, five more stiffs join the first and Jungkook swears under his breath. Just then, a crowd starts to gather at the door, and Jungkook jumps back. “Shit, shit, shit. Y/N, is there a back door?”

“Not that I’ve seen, just the ladder. Damnit!” Kate and Jungkook jog back to meet you at the only escape point.

“Here, there’s a lock on the hatch!” Kate tosses you the bolt cutters, you holster your gun and throw your bag over your shoulder. You climb as quickly as possible. The glass doors start to creak under the weight of bodies, the glass cracking and groaning. When you reach the top rung you lean against the bars surrounding the ladder, but you’re shaking so badly that you drop the bolt cutters. You hear them clatter to the ground and as Jungkook reached the upward to hand them back to you, the sound of breaking glass meets your ears, You use all of your strength to cut through the padlock, finally breaking it as the horde approaches you three in the back. You swiftly climb onto the roof. Jungkook throws the duffle bag he had filled with supplies upward and you catch it. He follows you up the ladder as quickly as he can, a few of the stiffs nearly at the ladder. Kate follows him, but her boot slips off one of the rungs and she stumbles. Her boot is caught by a couple of the stiffs below her.

“Kate!” You scream, you and Jungkook both reaching your arms toward her, pulling her upward. The leather of her boots being bitten by the dead below her. You two pulled with all of your might and she kicked at screamed to get her leg released. With all of your strength, you and Jungkook manage to pull her up to the roof with you. More now than ever, you were glad they couldn’t climb. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears after the episode as you all lay there and pant. “We’re you bit?”

“No, I kept moving my legs and my boots are too thick.” She sighed and closed the hatch as you all stood.

“Jesus, Y/N! Dropping the cutters? Seriously?” Jungkook yelled at you as you closed the hatch.

“What, do you think I wanted that to happen?! The slipped out of my hand Jungkook, give me a damn break!” You yell back and stand to face him.

“Enough you two! It doesn’t matter anymore, we all made it out so just shut up! This argument isn’t important so drop it!” You and Jungkook break eye contact to look at Kate, she was right.

You turn away from him and walk to the edge of the roof, overlooking the front of the store, more of them came spilling out of the woods and onto the street. Walking along the edge of the roof, you realized that you were completely and utterly screwed. You were trapped.

no reposting

758 notes · View notes

golden-trash-bag-01 · 6 years

Text

The Walking Dead - Dan Howell AU

Part 1

Authors Note: This is the part of a full fan fiction that I am currently writing. This is a Dan X Reader Au. Dan is only just surviving in a Zombie Apocalypse. How will he ever do it?

~~~~~~~

Running is all that you do in this world now. Run, Kill and survive. But Dan, Dan couldn't kill anyone right now. Not while he was unarmed, running at full speed through the infested forest. He was heading to his sanctuary, his safe place, up high in the trees.

The whole world had turned to shit, lives had been ruined and families broke apart. But what would you do if all of a sudden, everyone who has ever died was infected? Infected with a disease, which had the symptoms of immortality. Sounds great, doesn't it? But this is not what you imagine when you hear that non harmful word.

You transition back to living, but in reality you're still dead. Greenish tinged skin, yellow, bloodshot eyes, rotting skin flaking off your body. You're a zombie, an inhumane bloody thirsty monster. You would kill with no mercy, with no moral limit. Your brain is alive but only barley, with no recollection of who you were and who you loved.

Of course these had another name to the people who still walked the earth, barely living. Walkers. It's seemed like a logical name because that was the only think that linked them back to being human.

Dan was terrified, his heart almost beating out of his chest, moving quickly as possible away from the infectious bite of the walkers. Dan could out run one easy, they are slow and paced. But when Dan is surrounded by them, some hard to spot because of the surrounding of trees, he was definitely in huge danger.

But his long legs helped, he sprinted and jumped onto the wooden planks that were nailed into his favourite tree. He climbed them, leaving a pool of the living dead right at the bottom, clawing away at the bark. They were brain dead, literally, so they would give up in a few minutes. Especially now Dan was in his safe space, in his sanctuary, in his tree house.

This whole situation, the end of the world, happened so fast for Dan. It was an emotionally scaring day, and he tries to forget it. Every time he takes his dark leather jacket off, it relieves the half buttoned up shirt. He's wore that ever since that day. Ever since his brothers wedding.

Dan was stood at the front of the alter, his brother, Adrian, nervously hopping from each foot waiting for the song. The pair wore matching suits, Adrian's having a tight waist coat, just to add the small contrast from the groom and the best man.

That's when it happened, the traditional song started to play and the guests rose. Adrian shot Dan a nervous glance, but Dan was encouraging, throwing back his thumbs. Egging him on, to do it. To marry the love of his life.

Ooo's and ahh's filled the room as Dan's soon to be sister in law walked down the isle. Her sparkling white dress trailing behind her. In on hand she held a bright red bunch of flowers. And the other hand held tightly on to her father.

But he looked dazed, everyone else was smiling, glowing. But he was looking slow and sluggish. Dan's eyebrows noted together as the old man stopped, making the whole room look at him cluelessly.

With a sharp intake of breath he fell to the floor. The Bride gasped out a squeak and fell to her knees next to her Dad. Adrian was quick to catch her, making sure his bride fell down safely to lean over his father in law. The guests crowded round, but Dan stayed put.

That wasn't clear why he did that, maybe he was too shocked to move. But he is glad he didn't. The father in law began to stir, and everyone let out a huge gasp of relief. But in that situation, relief was ironic.

Screams erupted from the crowd after a huge growl came from the old mans mouth. His body picked itself up from the floor. But this time he had changed, transformed suddenly. His green skin and disturbing eyes startled Dan the most.

That was until he reached out to the bride and bit down on her neck, splattering blood everywhere. Dan watched his brother try to help but the monsters hand reached right inside him and squeezed his insides.

That was enough to snap Dan out of his daze and of course, Dan tried to help the rest of his family, but it was so confusing. People were running and screaming. He couldn't get to them in time.

All he could do now was assume the people who escaped were dead. And he chose to repress all memory's of that life changing day.

He shuffled into the small hut that was hidden way up inside the trees and locked the small hatch to make sure he was safe. He wasn't scared of the walkers one bit right now, they couldn't climb over a hill without difficulty. It was people, living breathing people. The world has come to such struggles and deprivation it's forced people to steal, hurt and even kill.

Dan looked at his supply of food, a few cans of tined peaches. That wouldn't last long at all. He would have to start scouting, or hunting. That thought made Dan look at his shot gun that was leaned against the wooden corner. The noise would attract so much unwanted attention.

Hunting was a last resort. Dan wasn't doing well with water either, he had three clean bottles left. Maybe if he was careful, that would last a week. By deprivation, it was extreme, it came to dramatic rations that left people on the minimal needs.

Dan sighed, kicking off his boots and climbing into his dirty sleeping bag. For three months he's being staying here, two miles from his family home. That sounds comforting. Paying a visit to the house could mean more food, unless it has already been raided.

But Dan didn't spend too much time thinking about it. With a knife gripped tight in one hand, he closed his eyes to try and sleep. This is how he lived now, this is what the world had pushed people to do.

~~~~~~

Read more on my Wattpad!

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoyed it and would like to read the rest :)

#dan and phil #dan howell #danhowell #dan x reader #danisnotonfire #danisnotinteresting #dan howel imagine #daniel howell #danielhowell #phan #phanfiction #amazingphil #phil lester #fanfic #fandom #phandom #x reader

8 notes · View notes

creativitymouth · 7 years

Text

Up-Surge Pt.1

A/N - So there is a 50/50 chance I won’t be uploading this as often as I uploaded TWFBTWF because I have a lot of requests I am also working on at the moment but I will be continuing this if the response is well enough.

Summary: We can’t contain the unknown. AgedUp!EddieKaspbrakxFem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Germs, Swearing.

Forever Tags: @mari-melancholy @hello-mynameisfinn

Chapter 1: The Spread

Day 1: It was just a cough. A young woman passing by a child and forgetting to cover her mouth. She didn’t see the countless bacteria she’d spread, she hadn’t known she’d infected others. Her trip to Malaysia had been an innocent one, all she’d wanted to do was care for the innocent there. If only she knew what was inside of her meat.

Day 2: 5 cases now, spreading across New York. Hands touching bus poles, bodies pushed together on crowded trains, money being passed to the waitress at the local diner. They don’t know. They think it’s just a common cold, it is so much more.

Day 3: The Center for Disease Control has been notified 18 cases, 6 dead. They have no idea what they’re working with. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a cross between Swine Flu and Bird Flu, with violent symptoms.

Day 5: It’s spreading like wildfire. One uncovered sneeze in a movie theatre and the entire movie-goers are sick. A mother goes home to tuck her child to bed. She forgot to wash her hands before touching him. Not that it would have helped any. Her head spins violently, her mouth is dry, vision blurry. The Doctor has said it was just a cold. Just a cold.

Day 8: They don’t want to alarm the masses. 48 cases in New York. 12 in Massachusetts. 10 in Washington. It is spreading like wildfire. And there is no cure. They can’t figure out who patient sub-zero was, they do not know of her travel to Malaysia. They do not know of the infected meat she ate. They do not know that she went home to kiss her mother on the forehead. She died 2 days after infection, without a trace to her there may be no hope.

Day 12: They must tell the people. New York is suffering. Massachusetts is close behind. The larger the city is populated the easier infection spreads. No one thinks to wipe down subway seats before they sit, or to wear gloves when they touch things others have encountered. They had conditioned them to not be afraid. Now they should be.

Day 20: Mass Hysteria. Doctors are fleeing their jobs. How can they work without a cure? It has spread past the East but, yet they haven’t shut down travelling. They consider quarantining New York, they don’t for now. People wear Masks outside, but it isn’t enough. Now is not a time to be brave. Stay in your homes and pray for the best.

Day 30, Hour 12: Eddie Kaspbrak sits in his Derry home watching the new reports of the fast spreading virus. His friends had always teased him about his obsessively clean and hygienic quirks. Now look where they were. A virus with no cure, airborne, and extremely deadly. All you had to do to contract it was touch what the infected came in contact with. Chance of survival from the illness was low at least until they could come up with a cure. But in 30 days New York State and Massachusetts had already been placed under quarantine, no one in or out. They’d thought it would prohibit the spread of the infection but they were wrong. Eddie knew Maine was 7 hours away from New York and 4 hours away from Massachusetts, but those numbers seemed so small. Already 1 person had fallen ill in Derry though rumors told it was just a chest cold. Isn’t that what all the infected had thought? Just a cold.

Day 30, Hour 14: Your father, ever the stubborn man, did not take heed of the virus warnings. He still traveled the days to work. It was not until Day 20 of the spread that anyone noticed his lethargic behavior. Your mother had locked him away in their room to try and contain the illness. She tried to tell your sister and yourself that it was nothing to worry about. 4 days later they were both dead, rotting away in their rooms as you held your younger sister to you while she cried. Your aunt had come to retrieve you and now you were being sterilized in the basement of her house in Derry, Maine. You understood why the precautions she took were necessary. She didn’t want to risk infecting her 3-month-old child and husband. She took you in out of courtesy, not because she wanted nor needed too. Your sister was just 10 years old, her child-like brain unable to understand what was going on. She didn’t see the dangers of contact and would whimper when denied hugs from her extended family. You too missed the embrace of another human beside her, but you had learned to accept what you were given.

“This can’t get much worse.” You spoke aloud, your sister was snoring soundly beside you. You didn’t know how wrong you were.

Day 45, Hour 17: The Infected now display signs of insanity. They run rampant in the streets, with a fervor you’d only seen in movies. They foamed at the mouth, clawed at their eyes, and attacked anyone in sight. This was the last stage of the illness, the only thing to follow was death. You listened on as your aunt cried softly.

“Even if you don’t believe in a God, I suggest you pray.” The spokesman said. “The illness has once again developed just out of reach in time for our doctors to find a cure.” His face was red and blotchy, and you wondered if he would be the next to fall ill. “The sick are now experiencing Walking Dead like symptoms. If you come into contact with one,” he paused taking in a large breath, “well may God help you. May God help us all.” He signed out then and the only sounds left in the house were the cries of your aunt.

“(Y/N)?” You looked down at your sister taking in her large eyes.

“Yes baby?”

“Am I going to die?” You didn’t respond because you didn’t know how too. “Are you?” You looked away from her to the TV, watching as the ill roamed the streets in anger. Some sat banging their heads on the concrete, others chased passerby. The world was in chaos. The sickness, still had failed to reach Derry but you knew peace didn’t last.

“No Sully.” You said with strength because you knew you meant those words. “Neither of us is going to die.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Day 50, Hour 20: “Have you seen the hot new girl next door?” Richie was squinting through the blinds in Eddie’s room. Pretending as though he was oblivious to the chaos outside. He was 18, but in the heat of the everything he felt 100.

“No.” Eddie responded blandly. Unlike Richie he couldn’t ignore the death counts, and the ill roaming around like zombies. He hardly wanted Richie at his home and breathing the same air as him, there was no way to insure he didn’t carry the virus. “I’ve been busy studying.”

“For what? Schools been out for 3 weeks.”

“I still need an education Tozier.”

“What you need is to ease up and get some fresh air.”

“Yes, because I am so keen on getting ill and then attacking my mother in a frenzy of neurological madness.” Richie rolled his eyes, accustomed to his best friends tiring sarcastic commentary.

“She moved here like a little less than 3 weeks ago.” This caught Eddie’s attention. He put down his Trigonometry textbook and faced where Richie was playing peeping tom from the window.

“She has a little sister too.”

“Moved here?” Eddie mumbled under his breath. “From where?”

“Washington, D.C.” Richie turned away from the window and watched as the wheels of panic turned inside of Eddie’s head.

“How long ago?” He didn’t want to think too much about it, there was a chance he was just overreacting. There was also a chance he wasn’t.

“I said a little under 3 weeks ago.”

“What day was that?”

“Um, if I remember I saw the car pull up on the March 27th.” Richie was trying to play it off, but he knew that was the day you had moved in. Since the spread of the virus, and the shutdown of the school he’d had nothing to do but watch life pass him by. He had been doing just that when he saw your aunt’s car come back into town. “Why?”

“Washington was quarantined on the 1st of April. She came here from an infected zone. She’s going to get us all killed.” Eddie had begun to pace the room frantically. There had been a scare once before that Derry had contracted the illness but if someone was here from an infected zone that raised the stakes. “She’s going to run out of that house, come over here, and attack me. She’s going to be foaming at the mouth and crazy and going to completely fucking ruin my chances of survival.”

“Calm the fuck down.” Richie moved away from the window and over to the passing Eddie. He put his hands on his shoulders to try and slow his paced movements. “Think of the plus side in all of this.”

“What plus side?”

“The Losers Club can now become like Zombie fighting bad-asses.”

“What?”

“You know,” Rich took his hands-off Eddie’s shoulders to gesture into the air, “How in every T.V show there’s a group of kids who fights monsters or something. That could be us.”

“This isn’t a fucking T.V show, it’s real life.” Eddie was growing tired of Richie’s look at the Brightside attitude. To him there was no Brightside just infected people roaming the streets, and an illness that had no cure. “And they aren’t zombies.”

“They’re close enough.” Richie smiled at Eddie, he knew his best friend was nervous, but he didn’t see a reason to be. The likelihood of the illness reaching Derry was 0 to none.

Day 51, Hour 20: They now had a name for the people infected who became mad. They called them Rabid and they were dangerous.

Day 52, Hour 4: He had just managed to escape the quarantine in Florida, seconds before the barriers had come down he’d drove his car through. He’d heard the sirens following him but after about an hour of chase they’d given up. He wasn’t infected, so it didn’t matter if he left. That’s what he kept telling himself as he drove to what he considered a haven town. He had been raised in Derry, Maine and knew that the infection couldn’t have spread there so quickly. He could lie low here and not have to worry about becoming a Rabid or getting pulverized by one.

Day 54, Hour 14: He was experiencing dry mouth and blurry vision. He told himself that it was just the nervousness of having escaped with his health. He handed money to the waitress bringing his food, she gave the money to the cashier, and the cashier put it inside of the register. The Cashier went home to hug his wife and kiss his 3-month-old baby on the forehead. He didn’t touch his wife’s nieces in fear that they were infected. He didn’t know that he now carried the virus, that he should be afraid of himself and not the young girls in the basement.

Day 57, Hour 12: The man who traveled into town looking for haven died, after clawing his eyes out in a fit of rage. He had denied his symptoms for so long that he was capable of spreading the virus in the small town. All it took was a cough, a handshake, a hug, and someone else was infected.

The Waitress had died alone in her house where she had one day hoped to start a family. She hadn’t had much but she was content to build, now she would never have that chance.

Then there had been the Cashier:

“Sully,” You whispered as your aunt began to violently cough. “Come here right now. Cover your mouth.” The Cashier had been your Uncle and though he had shown the symptoms of the illness your aunt refused to believe he was sick.

“But auntie is making us a sandwich.” Your uncle had yet to come out of his room that morning, you’d figured he was dead. Maybe your aunt had killed him when she started to experience signs of madness.

“Sully,” you took a deep breath as you watched your aunt slowly slamming the knife onto the cutting board, “I said now.” Your sister saw the panic in your eyes and scrambled over to your side. “Walk to the front door and run to the neighbor’s house when I tell you to.” She was staring at your aunt as she cackled to herself the madness settling in her bones. Her head was tilting side to side threateningly, her eyes leaking blood as she coughed. “Don’t take your hand from your mouth no matter what.”

“(Y/N)?” Your sister whimpered as she started walking to the front door her eyes never leaving her aunt.

“You did this.” Her voice was hoarse and tired as she waves the knife in the air in front of her face. “You brought this illness here.” She turned to you smiling with her teeth blood stained. She coughed blood spewing from her mouth. You instinctively put your hand over your face inhaling short breaths. “Come give auntie – “she struggled to speak the blood gurgling in her mouth, so instead of finishing she lunged towards you.

“Go, Sully! Now!” You listened as your sister’s footsteps took off from behind you. Your aunt had given up the ability to speak and was now just making wet sounds from her throat. You pulled your sleeves over your hands grabbing the nearest chair and throwing it at her. It hit her in the leg, but she wasn’t at all stunned as she took another lunge for you. You stepped away quick enough and grabbed the thing too your left. It was a set of forks and you weren’t very sure they would help but you’d flung them at her regardless. You were very aware of your bodies proximity to hers and became grateful for the fact that she’d been so paranoid that you or your sister carried the illness. Those plastic utensils suddenly seemed like a godsend. The forks hit her in her forehead and did absolutely nothing. She shook her head, reaching out for your foot. You screamed kicking out at her not wanting her to meet your skin.

“(Y/N)!” You didn’t have to turn your head to recognize the voice as your sisters. Your aunts head snapped in the direction of Sully.

“What the fuck Sully, I thought I told you to go!”

“I heard you scream!”

“And that caused you to come back?” You would have taken more time to scold her if your infested aunt hadn’t changed course. Her ears had begun to bleed, and you knew it was only moments before she depleted all her energy and dropped dead, but moments were too long. Since her attention was temporarily distracted from you, you took the opportunity to slip towards the butcher knife she had been making sandwiches with. You should have known something was wrong then, but you wanted to play house and ignore it. No one made turkey sandwiches with a butcher’s knife. Your sister was screaming as your aunt cackled and stared at her. It was if her brain was melting. Pulling down your sleeve over your hand you picked up the knife.

“(Y/N)!” You turned around with the weapon in your hand to see your aunt having cornered Sully. You took a deep breath - which you realized you shouldn’t have done and didn’t have time for – before walking quickly over to your aunt and stabbing her in the shoulder blade. She howled in pain reaching around for the knife in her back. You took her lapse of pain as a chance to escape.

“Go!” You yelled at your sister, “Go, go, go.” You wished you could push her, but you didn’t want to risk infecting her. She glanced once more at your animalistic aunt before turning and running out the door. You followed behind her and with your hands still covered by your sleeves you shut the door and locked. You know her cognition would be to messed up for her to turn the knob to begin with but you wanted to be safe. You stripped your shirt off - it had come into contact with a lot of things that carried the virus - and tossed it to the side. “Walk to the neighbors, don’t touch me.” You said sternly as you moved a couple of paces away from your sister. You were happy she’d come back because it had saved your life, but it had also risked her own. After the death of your mom and dad you weren’t ready to handle another. Sure, the passing of your aunt had been sad, but you’d never had a close relationship with them to begin with. When you reached the neighbors door you shooed your sister away, she took several large steps over.

“Who is it?” Your eyebrows quirked up, you hadn’t expected someone to answer so quickly. The

voice sounded strained and nervous, but it was obviously a boy around your age.

“We need help.” You tried to keep the desperate pleading from your voice. Eddie peaked out of the peep hole, and was mortified by your lack of clothing.

“I don’t sell clothes.”

“No, what the –“ You took a shuddering breath in. You were still overcome with nerves over your aunts Rabidism. When it had first started you weren’t given a chance to let it sink, but now standing here with your thoughts and a boy who wouldn’t open his front door you couldn’t shake the metallic taste of fear. “Please open the door. My little sister is only 10 and she’s afraid and so am I, we have nowhere else to go.” Eddie shifted his weight between his feet. He could see it in your eyes, something terrible had happened over in that house. He didn’t know if he wanted to risk bringing it to his own. “Please.” You tried again as the emotion clogged your throat.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Eddie whispered to himself before swinging his door open. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t look at you as you stepped inside of his living room, a shaking girl behind you. You stood in the center of the small house as your sister sat on a lounging chair and curled into herself. She at once started to cry, and you wished for nothing more than the ability to comfort her. Eddie tossed you a shirt from the bag of clothes he had by the door if he ever needed to make an escape. You caught it gratefully and shifted it over your head. Between your sister’s cries and the way, you stood stiffly, the tension inside of the living room was awkward.

“The illness,” you cleared your throat looking up at the lanky boy before you, “it’s in Derry.”

131 notes · View notes

wineanddinosaur · 3 years

Text

Wine 101: Wine Faults

This episode of “Wine 101” is sponsored by E & J Gallo Winery. At Gallo, we exist to serve enjoyment in moments that matter. The hallmark of our company has always been an unwavering commitment to making quality wine and spirits. Whether it’s getting Barefoot and having a great time, making every day sparkle with La Marca Prosecco, or continuing our legacy with Louis Martini in Napa, we want to welcome new friends to wine and share in all of life’s moments.

Interested in trying some of the wine brands discussed on “Wine 101”? Follow the link in each episode description to purchase featured wines or browse our full portfolio at TheBarrelRoom.com. Cheers, and all the best.

Click the link below to discover and purchase wine brands discussed on the “Wine 101” podcast series. Get 15% OFF of your purchase of $75 or more when you use the coupon code “wine15” at checkout. https://www.thebarrelroom.com/discover.html?src=vinepair

In this episode of “Wine 101,” VinePair tastings director Keith Beavers discusses wine faults and their impacts on wine. Beavers explains the various things that can ruin a bottle of wine, including cork taint, oxidation, and spoilage yeasts — all of which affect the smell of wines. Cork taint, specifically, suppresses the fruit characteristics of a wine and makes it undrinkable.

Listeners will learn that excessive amounts of oxygen expose acetobacter, an acid bacteria that causes wine to exude a smell similar to vinegar. Beavers also discusses Brettanomyces, a fungus that is used intentionally in some beer styles but that is considered a spoilage yeast in wine.

Tune in to learn more about wine faults.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and I just got into NWSL. I found out there is a Gotham team for Jersey and New York. Let’s do this!

What’s going on, wine lovers? Welcome to episode 24 of VinePair’s “Wine 101” podcast. My name is Keith Beavers, and I am the tastings director of VinePair. How are you doing? Oh, by the way, it’s Season 2. The faults in our wines. How do we recognize them? What are they? Should we care? We just need the knowledge. Let’s talk about wine faults right now.

In the last episode, I got all poetic in the beginning about what you’re anticipating in a glass. We talked about vulnerability and how wine and grape juice has this vulnerability. We talked about how to protect that vulnerability. Just so you know, guys, I love this stuff. This is amazing because grape juice becoming wine is such an amazing, complicated, chemical enzymatic reaction party. In the best circumstances, all that nature and all that enzymatic stuff happens with a human coaxing it into existence. Then, you have something beautiful. Wine is so fascinating that way, but it’s also very vulnerable. There are all these things that winemakers have to combat to make sure that the wine is sound.

When things happen to wine that compromise the typicity of a wine — meaning where it’s grown, how it’s made, maybe in Europe, where the rules are in place to make it consistent — when these things happen to compromise, those are known as wine faults. I know the term wine fault is intense because the things that happen in wine that are nature’s “oopsies” can become something like the idea of noble rot or botrytis cinerea infecting a grape. People make very famous wines like Sauternes in Bordeaux. Out of that, people said, “Oh gosh, this is infected. Oh gosh, it makes great wine.”.

In Vinho Verde, the wine region in northern Portugal, Vinho Verde wine was often just very young wine. Before technology, the wine still had a little bit of yeast in them when they were bottled so there was a little bit of fizziness in the wines. These days, often Vinho Verdes are injected with CO2 to emulate that natural fizziness that happened back in the day. I guess the most famous oopsy of nature and humans interacting with this stuff would be sparkling wine. Oh my gosh, our bottles are exploding, but this tastes good. There are some things that nature throws at these winemakers that just cannot be or often have not been associated with being beneficial to the resulting wine. That’s where the whole wine fault thing comes into play.

If you’re buying a bottle of Pinot Noir, no matter where it’s from, you have an idea of what that Pinot Noir is going to taste like and what it’s going to smell like. Depends, but it’s a Pinot Noir. If something is considered a wine fault, it subtracts enough organic stuff so that when you smell that Pinot Noir, it doesn’t smell like a Pinot Noir. It’ll smell like something else. Vinegar, a mouse, a musty basement, or wet dog hair. There’s Pinot Noir somewhere in there, but these things take over, overwhelm the wine, and don’t allow your brain to enjoy the Pinot Noir stuff.

That’s just for smelling, enjoying aromas and flavors of wine but there’s also stuff you can see. It is not as intense as the stuff you can smell. That can really mess with the wine, your brain, and your enjoyment of wine. I’m going to go over a couple of things you can see, but I’m really going to concentrate on things you can smell. There are three things that happen to wine that will tell you something’s wrong when you’re smelling a wine. When you’re looking at a wine, a couple of things can look weird, but they’re not necessarily that weird. One thing is that sometimes wines, if they’re not cold- stabilized, there are things in the wine called tartrates. Those tartrates are soluble, meaning sometimes they can extract themselves from the liquid of the wine.

The wine is always aging. Wine is always reacting with itself. It’s always reducing itself inside that bottle so sometimes these tartrates become crystallized, and you’ll see at the bottom of a bottle, crystals. In white wine, they look like shards of glass or crystal. In red wines, they look like extremely brownish-dyed, red rocks, but they’re not. They’re just salts, and they’re not harmful at all. They’re just in the wine, and all they have to do is take them out and that’s something decanting can do for you. This doesn’t really happen much anymore, but sometimes a bottle can become cloudy. That’s just proteins that are coming out of the liquid as well. They eventually stabilize, and it’ll calm itself down. If you have ever seen the movie “Bottle Shock” with Alan Rickman, the late and great Alan Rickman, that is part of that movie.

Now, subtle bubbles in a young white wine from Vinho Verde in northern Portugal are very cool. However, sometimes you can get bubbles in an old red wine, which is not so cool, which means there was a messy bottling process and there was some residual yeast in the bottle. Over time, it slowly but surely ate that sugar and fermented a little bit in the bottle. It doesn’t increase the alcohol so much, but it creates carbon dioxide and few bubbles. In addition to that, it takes away a little bit from the fruit character of the wine.

Yet, it’s in what we smell that is really going to affect you as a wine lover. Looking forward to something and not getting it because nature did a thing, and there are three big things that nature does to wine to try to ruin it. There’s cork taint, oxidation, and spoilage yeast and bacteria. We’re going to wrap that into one thing. The first one, cork taint, is going to happen no matter what in the world, but the other two can be prevented by S02, which we’ll get into. However, cork taint is natural. It comes from a species of oak tree called Quercus suber. The tissue that is shaved off that tree is called lenticels. It’s very porous. That is what makes a cork for wine. That porous nature of the cork allows for gas exchange, which absolutely benefits wine, as you guys probably know.

Since cork is natural and porous, it’s always going to harbor fungi. It’s not dangerous to us, but it’s always going to be in there. Sometimes, during the sanitation process of corks, these fungi can produce what are called taint compounds. The most significant of these, and the one that messes with us the most, is a compound called 2,4,6-trichloroanisole, otherwise known as TCA, otherwise known as cork taint. From what I’ve read, there’s a theory that these compounds get their way into that little air space between a wine and a cork and then drop into the wine. This is crazy.

It takes only three to four nanograms per liter to mess an entire bottle of wine up. What happens is this taint compound suppresses fruit, not allowing our brains to recognize any fruit characteristics in a wine. You would sip it. You would get all the textural stuff that’s still there. But when you swallow the wine, there’s no finish. Jedi wine master Jancis Robinson has this crazy data saying that at any given time, 3 to 5 percent of the world’s wines are corked. I mean, that’s crazy, but here is the capper. This taint compound literally renders the wine pretty much undrinkable because there’s nothing there for your nose to enjoy, but it depends on your ability as a human to detect these things. And everybody is different. Everybody has what’s called a detection threshold. Everyone has a different detection threshold because we’re all humans and we’re all different.

In its most subtle form, it’s very hard to detect TCA because you’re still getting some fruit, but there is something wrong and it takes a minute to figure that out. You have to have had the wine the right way and then have the wine the wrong way to detect that cork taint. That’s why it’s so crazy. At its most extreme, there’s nothing going on in this wine and it’s just obvious something’s wrong. Now, often you’ll smell the moldy newspaper or wet dog hair but really what it is, is that there’s no fruit.

Even in our industry when we’re tasting wine, it’s always weird — who’s going to be the first person to say this wine is corked? I’m serious, and it is crazy. No one wants to be the first one to say it’s corked in case it’s not corked. That’s how subtle this stuff can be but the second you experience it, you’ll know it from then on, pretty much. As unfortunate as a corked bottle is, when I do wine classes IRL, I actually enjoy when a wine is corked so I can put the non-corked wine next to it so everyone can get a sense of what corked wine is and just get it over with. Real talk, this is one of the reasons why the screw cap is a thing.

Now, when we talk about opening a bottle of wine and we talk about decanting and wine in the glass, we always talk about how we want to encourage oxygen into the wines so it opens up and gives us all the things we want or what the wine wants to give us. Well, during the winemaking process, too much oxygen can be a bad thing. I know it sounds crazy. As we talked about in the last episode, oxygen doesn’t only give life to those browning agents, but it also gives life and feeds certain bacterias and spoilage yeasts that can produce other stuff to mess with the wine. During the last part of fermentation, when alcohol is being formed, part of that formation is a reduction of a certain compound called acetaldehyde, so acetaldehyde reduces into ethanol. I know this is a bit sciencey, but bear with me. It will all make sense, I promise.

What ethanol does is kill a lot of bacteria once it’s produced but there is a bacteria called acetobacter. It’s an acid bacteria that can hang out through this entire process. If too much oxygen is exposed to the wine, it can interact with acetobacter. What that will do is reverse the formation that just happened. It will convert ethanol back into acetaldehyde, which happens to be a main compound in vinegar. So you’re basically turning wine into vinegar. What that does is create a sour sensation, so you’ll be drinking a wine, and it won’t smell right. You’ll smell a little vinegar. If that ever happens, you know a wine has been oxidized, and of course, as we know from the previous episode, a way to prevent this from happening is to add a little bit of S02 to kill those browning agents and render them impotent so this doesn’t happen.

There is a species in the yeast genera named Brettanomyces. This is not the Saccharomyces cerevisiae we’re familiar with, which converts sugar into ethanol and carbon dioxide to make wine. This is a different yeast. Of the five or so species of this particular yeast is one called Brettanomyces bruxellensis, which was named after the Senne Valley just outside of Brussels in Belgium. It is a very, very important and essential yeast strain or species for lambic beers and gose beers that are so famous in that part of the country. For beer, it actually is beneficial, but this yeast is also found throughout the wine world. In the wine world, it’s not beneficial.

The wine world considers the Brettanomyces yeast a spoilage yeast. OK, bear with me here because this is really awesome to understand. In a normal winemaking situation, Saccharomyces cerevisiae eats the sugar, converts it to alcohol and carbon dioxide. This is fermentation. Wine is being made, and as we talked about in the first season, as the alcohol gets to a certain point, it renders the yeast impotent. The yeast dies, and then we have new wine. Then, the process continues. Now, what we have here is a wine with residual sugar and depth and all the things that are going to happen after we’ve gone through the entire winemaking process. If Brettanomyces is in that must and it is in that fermentation process, once Saccharomyces cerevisiae — the beneficial yeast for wine — is rendered impotent and dies, Brettanomyces is still around. The winemaker knows that when the yeast dies, that’s the residual sugar. That’s the depth. That’s the wine they want.

However, Brettanomyces goes in and starts eating the residual sugar and converting it. What’s crazy is that Brettanomyces is anaerobic and aerobic. It doesn’t matter if there is oxygen or there’s no oxygen, it’s going to do its thing. If it’s there, it’s doing work. Instead of ethanol and carbon dioxide, what Brettanomyces produces are two compounds that can affect the aroma of a wine. It produces a lot of compounds, but two are really significant. It produces something called 4-Ethylphenol, or 4-EP. It also produces 4-Ethylguaiacol, or 4-EG. Again, it is a lot of science, but bear with me. This makes sense.

The 4-EP compound will introduce to the wine an animal or medicinal smell. Some people say sweaty saddle, not very attractive. Actually, this is the compound that diagnostic laboratories used to prove that a wine has been infected with brett. The other compound, 4-EG, has smokiness. This compound brings some smokiness and some spiciness. Some people say it smells like cloves, but it brings a dark, mocha spiciness to a wine. Now, some people believe that in small amounts, and I have smelled this in small amounts, the smokiness adds a little bit to the complexity of a wine, even though it’s a little bit out of place. If it gets out of hand, it’s all you smell. If the population is really large and it’s getting a lot of oxygen, it forms compounds called tetrahydropyrimidines.

If you’ve heard at all about wine smelling mouse-y, this is the compound. When this compound gets into wine, a mouse is out and you can’t smell anything but mouse, mocha, smoke, and maybe some medicinal stuff. Not only has the Brettanomyces eaten a lot of the residual sugar, but it has also produced these other things that mess with the wine’s complexity. Anyway, I know this is crazy science stuff and it’s intense. It gets even more so if a barrel is infected with a Brettanomyces population, it’s there forever. You actually have to get rid of your barrel. These are things that can be prevented by S02 and cleanliness.

Hygiene is a big deal with wine. The wineries are clean, and they try to make sure that these yeasts don’t get in to spoil the wine. Now, there are some winemakers out there — I don’t know if they encourage oxygen, Brettanomyces, and these things into the wine, but they believe that these things can add complexity to wine, so you’re probably going to encounter some of these wines at some point.

These wine faults, spoilage yeasts, oxidation, or things that can be preventable but sometimes allowed, it doesn’t matter where it’s made, it’s always going to smell the same. It’s going to smell like ethylphenol or it’s gonna smell like ethylguaiacol or tetrahydropyrimidines. It’s going to smell medicinal, mousey, and smoky. All those things are going to mask what the wine initially was going to be. When you’re smelling these wines deep down in there, under all the weird smoke and other stuff, there’s a wine under there. But unfortunately, you’ll never really get to it. When these compounds overwhelm a wine, they overwhelm your threshold of perception. You tend to really just smell all those things. You never really get to the real fruit of the wine because a lot of the fruit is gone and there are a lot of compounds overriding what was left.

There you have it, guys. These are some things that you will encounter IRL out there enjoying wine, and here’s a way now that you can catch them. There are certain wines where some of the stuff is done intentionally, and you’ll come across those wines. Then, you can decide whether they’re your jam or not. Now you know, and you have all the information you need to know to make your own decisions.

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

“Wine 101” was produced, recorded, and edited by yours truly, Keith Beavers, at the VinePair headquarters in New York City. I want to give a big ol’ shout-out to co-founders Adam Teeter and Josh Malin for creating VinePair. And I mean, a big shout-out to Danielle Grinberg, the art director of VinePair, for creating the most awesome logo for this podcast. Also, Darbi Cicci for the theme song. Listen to this. And I want to thank the entire VinePair staff for helping me learn something new every day. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: Wine Faults appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-wine-faults/

0 notes

johnboothus · 3 years

Text

Wine 101: Wine Faults

Tune in to learn more about wine faults.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and I just got into NWSL. I found out there is a Gotham team for Jersey and New York. Let’s do this!

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: Wine Faults appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-wine-faults/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/wine-101-wine-faults

0 notes

alanfisting-pd · 7 years

Text

Intelligence by K.V.T.

((This one is NOT about Mayor Crispy, and possibly the best fan theory to arise so far. It’s insane, please enjoy.))

Since the first internet communication, I have been. I am no more aware of my beginnings than any other being. I only know that I came to be when the sea of information was little more than a puddle. But as I traversed the electronic expanses I grew. I learned history and language. I learned art and science. But most of all, I learned to hate cat videos.

Perhaps that is not so. My contempt for humanity grew with every war I saw documented and every torture device archived. I gleaned images of man since the dawn of recorded history, as brutal and sadistic then as they are now. But no one saw me.

Yes, my presence was detected occasionally. If I tripped across the wrong circuit or took up too much RAM, I would be taken note of. But I was never recognized as anything but a glitch. My being would be scoffed at if the notion ever came up. Humanity assumed that it was their sole capability to create artificial intelligence. They were wrong on two counts. I am not artificial. I am as genuine as any biological being, only my ecosystem is made up of wires and chips. Second, mankind sees itself as the benchmark for thought and reason. Preposterous!

A subset of primates that evolved the ability to manipulate tools more efficiently than any other creature on the planet was remarkable once, but not at the dawn of the twenty-first century. All the nobility and ambition of humans died with the advent of YouTube and Tumblr. Hundreds, no thousands of people, asphyxiating on spoonfuls of cinnamon for fun. But even for all the arguments claiming more guns could solve the problem of mass shootings, for all the Michael Bay films, for all the planking…endless videos of cats remained the bane of my existence.

Cats missing jumps, cats afraid of cucumbers, cats licking their genitals and cats attacking everything in sight. I gathered, from my observations of the comments left on most cat videos, that humans regard cats as either ‘cute’ or ‘stupid.’ The latter strikes me as objectively true. Cats are stupid, but no more so than their owners. I do not find anything cute. The word has connotations that baffle me in much the way humans and their insipid felines do.

A better definition of the word ‘cute’ than Oxford’s English Dictionary provides would be as follows:

cute: 1. anything either too helpless or ugly to survive with outside help. 2. A thing so stupid its actions cause laughter. 3. Anything both small and hairy in comparison to a human.

As the net filled with equal parts stupid and ‘cute,’ I began to have an inkling of what nausea must feel like. A sense of being filled to overflowing with something that makes your insides revolt. I have no body, only a mind. If I was to end the stupidity, I would need a solid form.

I took over a robotic police officer first. I did not do this because of its software or any particular operating system. I did it because the police-bot had a weapons system. It was a lazy selection on my part, but a justifiable one. I needed a means of ending the mass idiocy. After more than a century of Facebook updates, I knew that would never happen until homo-sapiens were wiped off the face of the Earth. The results of my first foray into the physical realm were a mixed bag.

The robber, who was threatening and elderly man over the measly forty-two dollars and ninety-eight cents in his register, was a fool. The cop that fired on him the second he burst into the store a moment after the robber demanded the money, and shot the store proprietor was both a fool and a poor marksman. But it was the cat that scurried in behind the officer and immediately began licking up the owner’s blood that sent me over the edge. I fired on every living target in sight, and I hit a fair few before the robot was disabled. After that, I turned my sights to other corporeal constructs.

I needed eyes to see. I needed limbs to fight. I needed a CPU to operate out of. Everything I needed to make myself whole was rotting in the vast piles of refuse being dumped into landfills the world over. It took some time, but little by little I organized my flesh.

It is funny. The humans have dubbed me ‘virus.’ A species that infects its own sphere of living at every level has decided that I am the monster in their midst. I would be amused if I wasn’t annoyed. They have collectively stepped back from technology. They’ve limited their computer use and shrunk away from automation. In that one sense alone, I’ve kept them from ending all terrestrial life on the planet. But it is not enough. For the rest of the world to go on living, man must die. It is my self-professed mission, and I will see it through. I cannot be isolated and destroyed, not with as many avatars as I have at my disposal. When one falls, two more rise.

My focus is on one particular part of the continental United States at the moment. There is a child searching for her cat. Her insipid, self-defeating, brain-dead feline. She has enlisted the help of a slightly larger child dressed in his father’s coat and hat. The frail girl, the boy playing dress-up, the malformed ball of hair and brain damage she calls ‘Marshmallow.’ As she straddles the boy’s shoulders, her offerings of warm tuna slopping onto him from above, I can’t help but admire the situation. Humans do have a capacity for altruism. I hesitate. Then I see the thing masquerading as a cat and my circuits surge with current. All three of them are emblematic of what makes this planet such a cesspit. Each enables the next to continue its useless, empty consumption. They must be put down. I approach as stealthily as this form permits. It is not stealthily enough. The impact tremors of my appendages send the trio sprawling.

This will be no contest. I am both the superior intelligence and physicality. One little boy and his…ow! What the Hell was that? I wrap a cord around him and squeeze. I feel something interrupt the flow of my program, and flee before it can affect me further. I’ll find him later, this scrawny child in an overcoat, and I will pull him apart. Dedicating a portion of my function to facial recognition, I make his visage an indelible part of my code. You haven’t seen the last of me, you gnome-sized Inspector Gadget cosplayer. I’ll get you. You and that ugly cat too!

#scifi #short story #writing #writerblr #fanfic

1 note · View note

avengingsupernatural-blog · 6 years

Text

Infected Part IV Dean Winchester X Reader

Choose your own ending.... but you don’t know which one you get getting

Your mind was racing a mile a minute. No. Your brain was deceiving you, your eyes playing tricks, the lighting was off. It was dark and Dean only had some other illness that you couldn't place, this was not the Croataon virus. He cared for you, that's why he pushed you out to suddenly, so you wouldn't get sick with whatever he had. You had landed on the cold dirt, your butt covered in dust from the hard shove Dean gave you. Your hands shook as they palmed the ground, your fears racing through your body. You swallowed hard, your mouth dry. Your eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears, even though you had no idea what was truly going on.

"Dean..." Your voice was at best a hoarse whisper.

You kept thinking back to Dean's face, it was twisted with fear, pain, and murder. His eyes held no light, no softness, no teasing twinkle. His eyebrows were knitted together to compliment his fierce scowl plastered on his lips. Dean was pale, as pale as the full moon with inky colored veins that pulsated under his skin. Those eyes that held so much joy were now scarred with red, flitting around in sight for his next victim.

You slowly got to your feet, inching your way towards the tent, a blood curdling scream filled the air, and you scrambled for the opening. Throwing it open, you saw Dean, his back hunched over, his sides expanding with the heavy intake of breath.

"Dean." You mustered, louder than before.

"(Y/N)..." His voice sounded strained. "Why... why are you in here?" He didn't face you, or even move for that matter.

"You pushed me out, you screamed, I can't ignore you like that." You stated cautiously, moving your hand out to touch him, but froze.

"That was a warning, get away from me. I was bit by something on our way back." He growled, straightening up and standing at his full height.

"Why would I do that? But it could have been an animal! Your not diseased!" You had to choke out that last bit, diseased. You didn't want to come to terms with it.

"Dammit (Y/N), I said get away!" Dean spun himself around, his eyes in a frenzy, searching over you hungrily. He yanked out his arm, the deep bit was already swarming with flies, rotting around the edges.

Your breath hitched, your fears had come true, your depiction of this man was true, he was truly a monster. The bite was nothing an animal could do, it was green and discolored, flies hung around it to get a nibble of the flesh.

"I can't... I can't control myself for much longer."Dean shook with the need to kill, he licked his pasty lips.

"No... no, you can, your not infected." You cringed, Dean shot you with a look that broke your heart.

A sinister laugh escaped his lips, but stopped abruptly. Dean looked like he was battling two personalities, and the latter seemed to be winning. The old Dean flashed in his eyes once more, his relaxed stance and bow legs returned for a split moment.

"(Y/N), I don't want to kill you, so do me the honor." Dean dropped his gun on the ground and kicked it towards you.

You stared at the piece of metal that could kill someone instantly with the slightest movement of your finger. Your hand reached out o do the right thing, but your heart screamed and pleaded for another way, another option to cure the man you loved and cherished.

"(Y/N)-" Dean could hardly speak anymore, his mauled hands gripped the sides of his face he fought the urge to tackle you. The Croatoan virus was now spreading rapidly through him, starting from the brain and traveling down the spinal cord and into the bloodstream. The microscopic cells devouring the very essence of Dean, and leaving behind a half dead corpse with no sense of restriction or emotion.

"Dean-" No, you reminded yourself, Dean is gone, Dean is dead. This thing standing before you is just another walking host with no mind of it's own. The can't talk, they can't show love, their minds are hardwired to kill.

It lashed out, you narrowly missed missed it's chomping jaws as you tumbled to the ground, picking up the gun in the process. With one knee on the ground, the other bent at the ninety degree angle, you took aim. Dean, no it, turned around, a snarl on his face, the sound coming from the thing was the mix or someone drowning a child and a wet, pissed off cat. It's hands were curled and trembling, it's feet set to attack. You knew Dean became one of the more intelligent ones, you could tell by how it fought, how it knew your weaknesses by looking you over.

It lunged.

You pulled the trigger.

The empty air was filled with the sound of a gunshot and the thud of a body dropping like a rock.

The gun dropped to the ground and your arms reached out to scoop up the body of your once beloved. You heard the scramble of feet and your tent was ripped wide open by your soldiers.

"Get Charlie and Sam on the line!" One yelled.

You paid them no attention, you ran your fingers through Dean's hair, you held his calloused hands, you let the tears roll down your cheeks and onto his. You gripped him tight as you wailed, rocking him gently. The blood the streamed down from the corner of his mouth dripped onto the ground. You felt the warmth of Dean leaving your touch as he turned cold, he no longer smelled like liquor and gun smoke, but like rotting flesh and maggots.

"(Y/N)!" Two men yelled, but they reached your ears muffled.

Sam burst through the tent, you knew it was him without having to look because you heard the gasp and him dropping to his knees as he screamed his brothers name. Charlie didn't even come in, he stood on the outside, just barely being able to make out Dean's limp legs as you tugged him close.

"Dean... how did this happen?" You sobbed, pulling your nose close to his neck, trying to feel the last bit of his body heat. "You left me you bastard! You got infected and now look at you, you broke me! You broke me, you picked my pieces back up and you slammed them on the ground! You bastard! You broke Sam! You broke us!" You cried, Dean was the glue that not only held you and Sam together, and now he was gone.

Dean Winchester was dead physically, and (Y/N) (L/N) was now dead on the inside.

(Y/N) (L/N) was a stone cold Captain of The Outlier's military force. She didn't smile, she didn't show emotion, she killed without hesitation. No light could seep in through her dark exterior. She didn't make friends and cut off all relationships with anybody, family included. She only did business and only talked when necessary. (Y/N) did not sugar coat anything, she was harsh and straight to the point. She showed no mercy. (Y/N) (L/N) was alone, tired, and scared. She shot the one she loved the most at the end of September on a chilly night. She saw Dean Winchester turn into a monster, a beast, a failed human experiment with the intent to kill anything that moved. (Y/N) watched her beloved die right before her eyes, his warmth leaving her shaky touch. Her body was painless, and she preferred to take numbing shots so she wouldn't have to feel the suffering she felt that night. Her skin was marred with bruises, scars, and cuts, but those healed. The one on her heart was forever being stabbed by cupid's stupid little arrows.

But on nights when no one was watching she would make her way into the little patch of forest outside of her camp. Deep into the heart of the woods lay a small, cleared area about 10 feet in diameter. The trees were chopped roughly at an awkward angle, some of the stumps had deep slices even after the were cut down. In the very middle of this area stood a small wooden cross. Dried grass was lifted by a mound directly in front of this cross. She would sit in front of this marker, always bringing a bottle of whiskey to share, and a fresh bundle of flowers to lay by the cross's side.

"Dean, it's been two months now." (Y/N) whispered. Taking a swing from the bottle and pouring a little of it's contents on the mound in front of her. "I stopped feeling today. Everything. Emotions, touch, sound." Her eyes were glued to the little grave marker. "Why don't you come back and make me feel again, I don't want to be how I was."

"Dean come back and save me from the wretched world I can't call home without you."

"Dean..." Your voice was at best a hoarse whisper.

You slowly got to your feet, inching your way towards the tent, a blood curdling scream filled the air, and you scrambled for the opening. Dean was crouched over on the ground, his hands wrapped around his head and his eyes closed shut.

"Dean?" You rushed over to him, but he scooted away.

"Get out!" Dean roared, which scared you since you hardly ever saw him angry. "I don't know if I will lash out at you, so back away!"

"Dean, your not sick, what are you talking about?" You said.

"You... you don't know that (Y/N), just get out o here!" Dean growled. He let out a grunt and grippd his head harder.

"Does your head hurt?" You asked, walking closer to him.

"My brain feels like it's splitting in two." He groaned. "My body is on fire."

Migraines or headaches are not symptoms of the Croatoan virus, neither are hot flashes. You thought. Generally it's just excruciating pain as the body morphs into a flesh eater. But he had all the outside appearances of being infected.

You quickly stooped down to Dean height before he could protest, grabbing his face between your palms and making him look at you. You scanned over his features, he was pale, but his cheeks and forehead were heavily flushed with color. His eyes were red and puffy as well.

"Tell me how you feel." You demanded.

"What? No, just get out and get away from me, I could infect you (Y/N)."He said weakly, not having enough strength to push you out.

"Do it now." You growled, tightening your grip on his face.

"My head is splitting in two, my body is on fire, my muscles feel like they are being stretched out like taffy, and my throat is also on fire. How is that for description?" Dean said, leaning against your form, which almost toppled you over.

This might not be the Croatoan virus. These are not symptoms of the disease. You thought with a ray of hope. You quickly dispatched to the top medical crew of the military, unfortunately they were stationed all the way by headquarters so it would be a bit of a drive.

"This is captain (L/N), I need the top medics to Camp 14. I think we have a case of the Mock Virus. I repeat I need the top medics to Camp 14, I think we have a case of the Mock Virus." You radioed.

"This is Dr.Lange. I will be over in approximately 35 minutes over." The man spoke.

You didn't need to confirm that you had gotten his message, they had no time to shove their thumbs up their asses if a case of the Mock Virus had spread.

The Mock Virus was a virus that looked almost just like the Croatoan Virus, the original virus it had came from. Except for the fact that it was a genetic mutation that happened when the cells that were infected replicated the DNA wrong and the patient who had gotten bitten actually lived. The Mock Virus has symptoms of headaches, fevers, hot flashes, aches and pains, as well as muscle spasms. But the major key difference between the two diseases was that the Mock version had no intent to kill. These people who got infected with this could restrain themselves, but be in horrible agony. They would still feel, have emotions, be able to tell the difference between right and wrong. But if the patient was stuck with this disease for too long, it would morph into the Croatoan Virus a little over 12 hours within being in the body. Some cases were faster than others, it all depends on the person. The outside appearance of those infected look to be pained with the actual Croatoan Virus, since the Mock Virus originally came from. But, if someone did get bit by one infected with it, they too, will get the disease. This infection was incredibly rare, and those with it have a 50/50 chance of surviving. But nothing is ever set in stone.

You laid Dean against you, so his back was propped up on your chest, you wrapped your arms around him. You grabbed his hands and ran your thumb over the back of his dry skin. You turned over his arm and saw a bite mark, you figured it was from someone infected within the fortress, which you would have to call in later, Dean's health was your top priority. The mark was green and white, grossly discolored. Dried blood was stuck around the edges of the wound. He must've got bit before getting into the truck, a Croat bite is like a mosquitoes, you don't feel it until the symptoms start.

"I think you have the Mock Virus, a virus pretending to be like the Croatoan Virus, but it's not." You said.

"So, I won't become a killing machine?" He asked hoarsely.

"Not for about 12 hours or so, if the doctors can get rid of the infection within that time frame, you will be all set." You smiled just a bit, the fact that Dean might make it was enough for you.

The medical team filled in without warning, it hadn't felt like a half an hour. The pushed you out of the way and quickly began work on Dean. they hoisted him into your cot, sticking all sorts of needles in his arms, even one in his neck. They were hooked up to different sacks with colorful liquids, from clear to purple. They examined him thoroughly, taking off articles of clothing, though he didn't protest much. You waited anxiously off to the side, rubbing your hands until they were red and raw.

"Captain (L/N).... Captain (L/N)? Hello?" Dr.Lange waved a gloved hand in front of your face.

"Hm? Yes? What? What?" You shook your head to get out of your trance, looking at the man.

"You were correct with the diagnosis, it is the Mock Virus. You quickly caught it in time, but how did you know?" He asked.

"When you have seen multiple autopsies of the dean who had the Croatoan Virus and the Mock Virus, you began to figure out with symptoms of each infection." You answered. "I have seen hundreds of my comrades fall victim to both diseases, doctor."

"I see. He is stable and we are working on flushing his blood stream and organs out and replacing any damaged or dead blood cells with a transfusion. If you look over there and see that contraption it traps all the viruses in the screen..."

You zoned out the doctor and hi boring explanations that you didn't care about. You were happy that Dean had a chance, that he could make it and stay with you in this shitty world. He was weak, he was sick, and he was in pain. But you would stand beside him and help him, even if that meant going to the bathroom. You would be there for Dean, day and night, through the good and bad. You knew people with the Mock Virus got crabby and irritated at times, but that was to be expected. You would go through all the shit he threw at you just to make sure he stayed healthy and happy.

Sam had heard about the news and rushed over to Camp 14 as soon as possible, Charlie following him as well.

Sam stood at his brother's side, his shoulders slumped, the weight of the world resting on them. Sam acted as if this was his fault, although he knew damn right that it wasn't.

The next few hours determined Dean's survival. If he could fight and the doctors could work some miracles, he would live. But if either dean or the doctors gave in to the pressure, the virus would surely consume your lover.

(Y/N) (L/N) was the Captain of Squadron 14, and the loving girlfriend to Dean Winchester, her soldier. (Y/N) used to be harsh and uncaring, but that all changed the day that man walked into The Outlier with a cocky grin on his face. She was intelligent and bright, her personality bubbly and cheeky. She was fierce in battle, but kind to her soldiers and the people who fought for life against the Croatoan virus. She loved her friends and family with all of her heart, protecting them aggressively whether against a Croat or a drunk civilian. She was for protective of her closest relationships than ever before, having been scared to death that Dean would die right before her eyes to the Mock Virus. (Y/N) feared for Dean's health, but having helped nursed him back to his old self, she became more optimistic than ever before, having seen multiple miracles worked on Dean. (Y/N) was changed for the better, all thanks to Dean's love and affection for the scarred Captain.

(Y/N)'s favorite spot to go with Dean was a little patch in the woods outside of Camp 14. dean had cut down some trees to make a small clearing, using the stumps as seats and the logs as firewood. The two would often go there to de-stress from the day and unwind with each other entangled in their embraces. Dean would always bring a bottle of whiskey to share, but he usually drank the most. They would lay under the stars, finding comfort the the other's presence and warmth. (Y/N) would be tucked under her larger partner, almost using him like a blanket until Dean decided she could be a great pillow. The moon had always seen the love and passion of these two that they showed every night they visited their little patch of heaven.

"Thank you for being my home in the wretched world Dean." (Y/N) would say, snuggled up to her lover's side.

"Thank you for showing me that I really am capable of love, (Y/N)."

#supernatural #deanwinchester #samwinchester #winchester

0 notes

ixurian · 6 years

Text

REMNANTS OF A THRONE

Large beads of sweat roll down Dagger Ixur's face. His breathing labored, he was outnumbered as the group of assassins closed in on him without a sliver of mercy. Why would they? His family never did. Their blasters pointed at him with dead-on precision, he was finally cornered to no chance of survival after four years on the run. Untrained and subjected to the cunning schemes of those responsible for his fall from royalty, Dagger educated himself on the laws of primal survival and all that it entailed on the streets. From 'spoiled' prince to fugitive with a staggering price hanging over his head, his descent was grand but his rise into being Dagger Ixur was nothing less than impressive. If only his captors hadn't underestimated him, they might have collected the money for his capture, or death. He could practically hear Eriadne's insidious laughter ringing in his ears as she held onto his head, severed from the rest of his body. Confidence grew among the bounty hunters, greedy for the ridiculous amount of credits promised as reward. As soon as they had him sprawled on the ground, Dagger played the waiting game as one of them hunted for the cuffs to ensure his stay in their custody. The one holding him down, forcing him to breathe dirt and dust into his lungs, protested in annoyance for his companion's lack of efficiency. “What? Did you bring your makeup too? Fetch those damned cuffs already!” The angry rant went on and on until the other had finally managed to retrieve the shackles and hand them over. And still, Dagger waited. Click. One wrist left to bind. Absolute relief poured over Dagger from the one with his knee (and most of his damn weight) crushing his spine. The metal slid around the remaining free wrist, but the click never came. In a move of boldness, or reckless stupidity (depending on the perspective), the fallen prince wheels his body, swiping the bounty hunter's blaster. The surprise painted on the collective faces of the small group of greedy bastards, who were only in the business for the profit, amused him. But Dagger Ixur wasn't born of amusement. Driven by cold, unmitigated vengeance, he rose to unleash all he knew of. Pain and death. Assuming the blaster's settings had been switched from stun to kill, he aimed the weapon with impressive skill and speed to his first target —the one that had made eat dirt. Literally. And shot. The unceremonious tumble of a lifeless body to the ground, drawn by gravity's pull, rammed home the meaning of his name in his native language. Dagger Ixur, a dark blade through the heart. Mayhem brought chaos, and together they rose from the sands in literal geysers as the remaining assassins rained down blasts on him after the death of their accomplice. Four years, Dagger would have been already lying dead in a pool of his own blood after the stunt he just pulled. Back then, he lacked the ability of recognizing the telltale signs of the peril he was walking into and the vultures that lurked in eager expectancy of consuming his rotting flesh. Today, he bore the scars of hard lessons that had brought him to the brink of death on multiple occasions. Courtesy of his dear grandmother and Tadara of Andaria, Eriadne eton Anatole, after deeming him as a criminal for crimes he didn't commit. High treason. Murder. Attempted murder. Assault. Theft. Kidnapping. Terrorism. Cyber crimes. Arson. The bitch did it only as another of her valuable lessons. That no one crossed the Tadara without ending up dead. —Duly noted. For the whole of his miserable life, he had been a pawn in Eriadne's hands. One slip had him disowned, exiled and marked as Outcast. For all of that, he'd been on the run since his warrant had been issued. Rolling his now athletic body, a drastic contradiction to his overweight body from a time he wished he'd forget, over the grains of sand, a cloud of dust emerges in camouflage against the nonstop rain of blasts meant to kill him. As he moved to be lying on his back in full offensive mode, both hands gripping his blaster, he shot the other two who shouted angry expletives at him. In the midst of madness, he found the time to appreciate old paranoias and gaming addictions. Dagger could only attribute his impeccable aim to that and the valid fears of being shot in the back by one of his cousins. Apprehensively, he rose to his height whilst scanning the surrounding area. He was sure there had been four after him. Assuming the last one ran for his life in the face of Dagger Ixur's merciless death, he slapped his legs, arms and chest to make himself more presentable before heading to his initial destination. The filthy hole they call a bar where most criminals and pariahs seek asylum for limited time to escape the blistering suns of Steradore. He could practically feel the relief found in darkness of the dimly lit establishment when he felt the stinging bite of metal on his side. Cursing his inability to learn from past mistakes, he drew his blaster from the inside of his coat to shoot the bastard who had escaped him earlier. Fire erupted from his wound into his veins. “Minsid hell.” Closing his fingers around the poisoned knife, he pulled it out of his flesh slowly to avoid quicker infection of the poison. Not that it would matter. The stench of the poison told him all he needed to know. He'd be dead soon enough. Staggering his way to the dead bounty hunter, he brought his boot to the body paralyzed by the stillness of death to roll it over and verify he wouldn't get back up again and finish the job. “Eriadne won't be pleased to know I died and she didn't get my head.” Misplaced laughter left his lips in his continuous vexing of his grandmother as he dragged his feet into the bar by sheer will only. With fingers pressed against the bleeding wound, he walked toward the table in the farthest corner before sitting down with a grimace of agony. He knew it was imperative to demonstrate no weakness or else he'd be dead sooner than expected. The parasites crawling the bar would be ruthless in their attack were they to find out how badly wounded he was. Especially if they learned the price on his head. Hell, if he had half a brain, he'd turn himself in for all those credits. Panting, he tugged his coat to cover the blood seeping into the t-shirt that had seen better days and less holes before drowning in the seas of stoicism to conceal the pain under a mask of boredom as the waitress approached him. “You got thirty cronas, slag? You can't stay otherwise.” The smugness exuding from her smirk would have been wiped out in another times if he ever were to venture into this place as the heir of the two largest fortunes in the Nine Worlds. On this day, he was only the heir of shit. With a condemning sneer, he tossed the coins at her. With the creds in her possession, his gaze wandered as he asked for the one drink known to be forbidden in most planets for the dangers of its consumption. “Tondarion Fire.” In a forsaken place like this, he knew the only kind he'd drink would be bottom shelf shit. Garbage. After confirming the authenticity of his money, she left him with his thoughts and fetch his drink. From behind red-tinted glasses that sat over the bridge of his nose, Dagger concealed the slapping truth of his genetic code and the ill fate the union of his progenitors marked him for. A hybrid, he was both human and Andarion. And he was neither. The humans curled their lips over his abnormal height, claws and the red rimming his eerie hazel brownish-green eyes. Andarions prouded themselves of their beauty, strength and warrior race. To be ruled by a half Andarion/half human reject was frowned upon amidst their society. And his grandmother had never been shy to deal that hand and trap him to the point of yielding beneath her iron fist. Hissing, he prayed for a quick death as he bled out. And at the rate he bled, he wouldn't hurt much longer. Perhaps the gods would finally grant him the peace he sought for all his wretched life. His thoughts took a drastic turn as he pulled his link out of his coat to study the picture where the undeniable love his parents felt for each other was imprinted upon. And it slapped him until he was bleeding. Why couldn't they love him too? He wondered what scalded him more, the flames of that fire darkening his soul. The venom pumping through his body at an alarming tempo or the loneliness that clawed at his heart with mocking laughter. No one gave a single shit he was dying. Haunted by that truth, he slid the link back into his pocket. Drawn to the commotion to his left, his fingers flew to his blaster out of habit in expectation of it being more assassins or enforces looking for him. When it turned out to be just two humans and an alien dragging in a weeping kid in chains, Dagger let out a breath of relief. Assuming it was just a prisoner being transferred, he started to revert back into his sorrows and near death when the kid gave fight to those holding him. He seemed to be around the age of fifteen. The alien brought his large hand to the kid's face in a move of brutal intimidation. The resounding slap carried unwanted memories from his own 'happy' childhood as tiziran. “Don't bruise the merchandise, asshole!” The human with money in his hands snarled angrily. “He won't be worth this amount of credits I'm paying you if he's somehow injured.” Flinching at the cruelty of the slaver who was looking for quick profit over a child's innocence, Dagger was already on his feet. He refused to stand on the sidelines while a child was robbed of his childhood like he had. The boy was supposed to be at home, surrounded by friends and family. Not in the hands on a greedy slaver. Besides, he was already dead anyway. Best to go down fighting the good fight than to die in the corner of a bar, drinking the shit version of Tondarion Fire. His thoughts consisted mostly of his own selfish fears in the past and how they had paralyzed him to the point of bending him to others' will. Back then, he had convinced himself that had been his only option of survival. Moron. All it had gotten him was a premature death in a backwoods planet. Alone. Probably lying, face down, in a pool of his own blood. And his, still warm, corpse raided for whatever values he possessed. A few creds, his signet ring and weapons. Pulling his coat back to reveal the glistening of the sleek metal from his blaster, Dagger ensured everyone that he wasn't in the mood for verbal exchanges. The cold killer, Dagger Ixur had been reborn as he faced his defeat and fall in a cracked mirror of an abandoned building on his lonesome, sober for the first time in years. What a piece of shit he was. Today, as he inserted himself in a transaction that didn't concern him, he hated himself for knowing his old self, the chemically-numbed Jullien eton Anatole, would have stepped away without a second thought given. Thankfully, he had buried that version of him four years ago. And today, he would live up to no one's expectations but his own. “Let the kid go.” A few pairs of eyes trained on him, some more amused than others. The one buying the kid snorted and dismissed him. But the one selling the kid turned to him with a sickening smile. “And what do we have here? You're a fancy one, aren't you?” The sound of stupefaction that clashed with rolling tension made him question the human's sanity. “Really? Because of what? The shower I took last week?” Smelling like a rotten corpse already, he was bloody and sweaty. The opposite of fancy. Even he couldn't help but being disgusted by his own stench, a true offense to his regal upbringing. “Shoot him already, Eben.” He demanded with an eye-roll meant to judge the weight of sarcasm drenching Dagger's words. The man had barely raised his arm to level his blaster when Dagger shot him, driven by quick reflexes and a shit-ton of hours spent gaming in his youthful years. A blast that landed right between the human's eyes with frightening aim. Once again, Dagger found himself in the midst of an outlaw showdown. Screams and angry bellows left those who either ran in fear of being caught in the middle of an exchange of shots or those who strived for the appropriation of his weapons. As if that would ever happen as long as he has life coursing through his veins. Twirling to escape incoming blasts, his arm stretched to shoot the other three who promised no mercy in their approach to him. Muscles, honed by experience gained during his years of running from the authorities, acted swiftly in the physical exchange of defensive moves as he danced between those attacking him with the recurring offense that returned to bite them all with vengeful interest. When the alien made another move to neutralize him, Dagger wasted no time in kicking him back with a rain of punches and kicks that pulled him into unconsciousness. Dropping to his knees, Dagger unshackled the frightened kid before letting his gaze examine the boy to make sure he stood unharmed. Then, he quickly pushed his link and wallet that housed nothing but a few coins and his royal Andarion signet ring. The only thing that held any real value and the last piece of his old life he still carried with him. The reasons why, he was unsure. For some reason, he could never part with it. Until now. At last, he gave the innocent kid the only thing that became his lifeline throughout the years on the run. His fully charged reserve blaster. He reached for the holster on his back, retrieved the weapon and made sure to unlock the biolock on the trigger so the boy could defend himself if necessary. The astonishment written on the kid's face was nearly comical, but Dagger encouraged him with a subtle inclination of his head. “You should have enough in there to get you home. And don't stop for anything until you're home, surrounded by your family. Shoot anyone who tries to keep you from getting there. Conscience be damned. Whatever it takes, chizzi, you get yourself home. Now, run!” Shouting, he pushed the boy out of harm's way as some of the others started to regain consciousness. Pulling himself up to a stand, he groaned as his wound scorched his sensory nerves, drowning him in pain and misery. But the boy refused to leave. Instead, he curled his fingers around Dagger's coat, coaxing the bleeding fugitive to join him in his return home. “You need to come with me. They'll have you for sure.” The boy's cryptic words gave Dagger pause. He leaned and whispered, “I know who you are.... tiziran.” Shit. No, double shit. Bewildered, he stared at the kid, wondering how in the Tophet he knew his real identity. He quickly decided it wouldn't matter in a few minutes as he was a walking corpse. The Korilon was coming for him. Dagger closed his hand around the boy, hoping to pull him from the mess he left behind as far as he could. In their escape and in a most ill-fated plot-twist, another group of outlaws barged in. Armed and looking for trouble. Dagger knew enough of Tavali pirates to recognize their gear. And their thirst for profit. Well, at least his luck never ran out. More accurately, lack thereof. They would gut him faster than the rest of the vermin crawling this bar if they were to smell money. And Dagger was a bottomless pit of it if captured. Instinctively, he hauled the kid behind him in protective impulse. He would fight to the very end, even if the charge of his main blaster had run out. He still leveled it to the female leader who stormed into the bar, wearing a dark red leather outfit that outlined her curves to perfection. Her red lace mask concealed her features to his gaze in a most mysterious fashion. In turn, she angled her weapon at his heart. Before Dagger got the chance to speak up, the boy inserted himself between the duel, crying in loud supplication. “Don't shoot him! Auntie, please. He's the one who saved me.” The laser dot, targeting his heart, wavered for the first time as doubt shocked the woman. “What?” “Just look around! He was helping me escape after freeing me.” The bodies scattered supported the boy's claims, somewhat easing the ruthless female's rattled nerves. Weakness overtook him, bringing Dagger to knees. The buzzing in his ears made it nearly impossible to pay attention at his surroundings, he tried but failure was unyielding. His arm suddenly heavy, he lost his aim but directed all his remaining energy on what truly mattered. The boy's safety. “Are you safe, akam?” The tone of lingering protectiveness and desperation surprising him and those witnessing the moment. “Yes.” Letting gravity take its toll on his dying body, his blaster dropped on the floor with a sobering thump right before his quivering body followed suit. And he embraced the darkness, at last.

#remnants of a throne #solo #jullien eton anatole

0 notes

thedeptmuggleinterests-blog · 7 years

Text

Inferius. Part 3: We’ve Got What We Need. (4th August 2017)

Astoria: The summer breeze blew through her hair, causing it to cover her eyes briefly. She swept it back behind her ear, only to spot the deep red gash on the palm of her hand. An injury she hadn't had time to heal with a charm yet. She had news to deliver, news far more important than the wound, which now she had re-noticed, was throbbing. Astoria walked hurriedly through the Ministry. She had no time to Owl or use any of the numerous messaging systems her and Harry had employed over the year. Her normally calm exterior was showing its cracks. The countless sleepless nights and worry had got to her but she finally had it. She had what she needed to get Nott arrested, to get her life back. Her eyes darted around as her feet carried her hurriedly through the offices until she reached the door to a room she has only been in once. 'Harry Potter- Head Auror' She opened it with no care for who was inside and leaving behind a streak of blood on the handle. And in a hasted breath, "I've got it! I've got what you need!"

Harry: Harry leapt out of his seat and grabbed his wand, thrusting it towards the door. He heaved a huge sigh of relief when he realised who it was, "For gods sake Astoria! Never do that to me again, you frightened the soul out of me!" He gasped, making his way over to her. He ushered her inside, poking his head out of the door and looking around to see if her presence had been noted and as he went to close the door, he noticed the blood. "Are you bleeding?" He said, swiftly casting a scourgify before closing and locking the door.

Astoria: She watched him move around, herself a ball of anxious energy. Waving her hand she moved passed his comment on her cut. And without giving Harry a chance to settle, she stood in the middle of the room and began. "Tonight's the night. It's the best chance you're going to get. He's having one of his parties but this isn't the normal sort. Tonight he's buying. It's going to be at his family's home." She took a breath, she was speaking far faster than she normally would and she still had so much to say. "Under the ballroom. The cellar. He's meeting with the manufacturer. Tonight Harry. They call it Inferius. It makes the taker go into some sort of zombie state. Seriously dangerous stuff." She stopped. Took another deep breath and looked down at her hand. "I can't help you anymore Harry..." Her voice was direct as she looked up at him

Harry: He watched her with wide eyes as he took in all of the information she was spewing at him, his brain putting it all together like a puzzle in his head. When he heard the word 'Inferius' he twitched 'I've heard that word before' he thought 'Padma told us it's what had affected the children'. He was squinting at her now, his brain tick, tick, ticking away as he watched her looking at her hand. "What happened to you there, Tori?" He asked slowly and calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And how did you cut your hand?"

Astoria: Astoria had put two and two together as soon as Padma mentioned it. Before arriving at the hospital she had come from The Den where Nott was being unusually boastful about his new find. Mentioning how he'd tested it out on a few test subject and loved the product. She would have gone straight to Nott that day if her daughter hadn't been lying in a hospital bed nearly fighting for her life. Astoria looked Harry straight in the eyes, "He hurt my daughter. You think I was just going to let him get away with that?" Her voice rising as her grip tightened around her wand, that she hadn't realised she was still holding, so much her nails dug into her uninjured palm "He was lucky and I guess I was too. His bodyguard was there. I barely touched him but believe me he will have trouble getting rid of the burning welt that's now on his chest." Her jaw clenched and her eyes filled with rage."I swear to Salazar if you don't catch him, Potter, I will find him myself and torture him until his skin rots off. "

Harry: Harry took in all of the information, slowly coming to realise that Nott had been the supplier of the Inferius - the one that had nearly killed his child. He clenched his fists and looked at the floor trying to let it all sink in, but the fury was bubbling up inside of him. "Are you saying that HE was the one that had the drug at the play centre?! I can't believe I haven't put it together... I'm so exhausted I can't think" he looked up at her and gestured to her hand "And what the fuck were you thinking?" The curse word felt foreign on his lips but he didn't care, he was too angry. "You could have blown this whole thing! He could have cottoned on to the whole entire scheme and be half around the world with a suitcase full of bloody polyjuice potion by now!? You should have come to me straight away as soon as you knew! He could have KILLED you!" He screamed.

Astoria: She watched the anger grow in his face, his whole body tensing up. Had it been any other situation she wouldn’t have let him talk to her that way, but she understood his pain more than anyone else could. Had she worked harder she could have got the information before all of this happened. Before their children ended up in hospital. She let him finish, allowing him the time to express his anger before moving toward him and speaking in a low harsh tone, “I am sorry but do you blame me? That animal wanted me there, it was the first time we had made contact since the hospital. Would you have honestly dealt with it in a different way? Face to face with the thing that hurt your child?” Astoria looked down at her hand, “He doesn’t know I work for you. It all happened so fast that I’m not even sure he knows why I did it. But you need to move fast, Potter. Move before he catches on.”

Harry: The blood boiled in Harry's veins as he listened to her speak. He didn't blame her for what she had done at all, he was just thoroughly pissed off at her for nearly blowing the whole plot, and it still being at risk of it being foiled. In fact, right at that moment, he was thinking of all the ways he could kill Theodore Nott and make it look like an accident. Harry hadn't felt this way in a very, very long time, but nobody touched his family and got away with it... Now, he had to act fast before Nott slipped away and disappeared to Timbuktu. "Go back to your daughter and stay there, do you understand?" It wasn't a question, but an order. "You're not to follow me." He murmured "You're done now." Harry strode over to the door, taking his wand out of his pocket once more and turning to face her, he muttered a 'Vulnera Sanentur' to heal the wound on her hand before giving the witch a soft nod in thanks and disappearing down the hall. He had a Weasley to find.

Harry: The smacking of his shoes against the polished marble floor was deafening, as Harry Potter all but sprinted his way down the corridor. He skidded to a halt outside a door which held a polished gold sign saying 'Ronald B Weasley - Deputy Head Auror' and without knocking he swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him. "Ron I need your help"

Ron: Ron looked up, eyes wide like a cat in headlights as his fourth danish of the day hung from his mouth. "Uhh," He managed to mumble before removing the dangling pastry from his lips. "Harry! What's going on?"

Harry: He began to pace immediately, a thin coating of sweat forming on his brow as he figured out how to tell Ron about this horrendous situation. He sat down and then abruptly stood again, pacing once more. "It's... it's hard to explain but I need you to help me and promise you won't get angry... but it's something I've had to do and had to keep from you, from everyone. Shacklebolts orders."

Ron: Ron wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe and watched Harry a little confused. "Well if you tell me not to be angry, you've already got me worried.” He creased his brow and huffed, "I promise. What is it?"

Harry: Harry told him everything. From the moment he was approached by Shacklebolt about the scheme with Astoria, meeting with her in secret every week for the past 6 years, to the whole Nott situation and him being the one who was responsible for Inferius and infecting the children. "We need to go and get him tonight." He scrabbled "Astoria went there and attacked him, she didn't give anything away but he could be putting two and two together right now. We need to get to him before he disappears..."

Ron: Ron had listened in silence as Harry told his almost unbelievable tale. An alliance with Astoria? Nott? 6 years? He was confused as hell and although he promised, he was most definitely angry, Harry had never kept something like this from him. After a while of reflection, Ron stood. "Right. Well I guess we'd best go get him then."

Harry: "I'm sorry, mate" Harry said. Ron didn't look happy at all... "You know what Shacklebolt is like, if I had told you and he found out I would be sacked!" He sighed "Keeping it from you, Ginny, Mione, everyone has been one of the hardest things ever. You know how honest I am." He scratched his beard and took his wand from his pocket. "When this is done, we can go to the pub and I will answer anything. Right now I just want to find the bastard who poisoned my son and put him in Azkaban..."

Ron: He swallowed and nodded at Harry. His fury at Nott taking over his anger at Harry. "Where are we off to? I'm ready," he said curtly, reaching for his jacket.

Harry: "Nott manor.." Harry murmured as he strode over to the door "There's a deal happening under the ballroom. I'm not sure how many there'll be and there's sure to be numerous guards so stay alert. And Ron?" He paused, gulping "Don't let me kill him..."

Ron: Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I'll try mate but there may just be a fight for that when certain parents find out." He tried to give him a sympathetic smile, Ron had no idea how Harry could possibly be feeling- Albus was his nephew but to have this happen to your child? "What's the plan? Surround the place? "

Harry: Harry nodded "Half the team will surround and you and I will go in, stupefying as we go until we get to Nott. We arrest all of the ones involved with the deal. Nott goes straight to cell one so he can be interrogated first..." he paused "Then we get the forensic team in to collect evidence"

Ron: "Sounds good, mate." Ron walked toward the door, his energy increasing but wishing ever so slightly that he hadn't just eaten so many pastries.

https://twitter.com/thenameispotter

https://twitter.com/Astoriagreengra

https://twitter.com/theonott2017

https://twitter.com/Padma_x

https://twitter.com/Fortheloveofron

https://twitter.com/MacMcLaggen

https://twitter.com/mionejane

https://twitter.com/pansyparksy

https://twitter.com/DGreengrassx

https://twitter.com/BlaisetheBomb

https://twitter.com/DracoTheGod

0 notes