#primary cell and cell line | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER THREE: ALL TOO WELL

AND I KNOW IT'S LONG GONE AND THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE I COULD DO, AND I FORGET ABOUT YOU LONG ENOUGH TO FORGET WHY I NEEDED TO.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, description of panic attack, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.7K+

☆ A/N: it'll be a short fic, i said. short and sweet and simple, i lied to myself.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The moment your name leaves his lips, you swear the world halts on its rotation.

This was real. Every fear and every anxiety you had wrestled with over the last twenty four hours wasn’t for naught – he was here, sitting before you, breathing your name out like a sigh of relief when all you felt was pain. Stabbing, radiating pain. It’s even worse than looking at pictures and headlines of a stranger on a phone screen. Something about him suddenly being tangible, suddenly being real, sends you reeling.

Lydia looks wildly between your showdown with the ghost of a man before you, “I’m sorry… Do you two- do you know each other?”

Not anymore.

“I-” you choke on your stutter. You’re frozen under his stare, going ashen as your head spins. Leave the room. Think of an excuse, get out of this room, run away. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

It’s the world’s most pathetic excuse, but the only thing you can spit out before you’re turning heel and running, just as your body had so desperately craved. You nearly bump into one of the security guards you’d just bravely had a confrontation with.

They’d demanded your phone, you had put up a fight. You had stood your ground. Had held your chin high, dared them to push further even once they had your cell phone in their grasp, and displayed all that self-assuredness you had curated in the last two years. Only to end up scampering past them like a wounded animal mere seconds later.

Pathetic.

Lydia calls out something after you, but it reaches deaf ears as you blaze down the hallway. Your chest is squeezing, as if someone had wrapped it in shrink-wrap and sucked all of the air right out of it, swathed so tightly you could feel every pounding beat of your pulse racing. Your eyesight completely blurs, not quite from tears but rather a mere loss of focus. You nearly knock over one of the god forsaken fake plants Lydia insists as a primary form of decor, hardly being within the right mind to reach out and right the oversized bush of green plastic.

But you don’t have to. Right as your back collides with the wall off to the side of the plant, breathing only coming in short and miserable pants, a different hand reaches out to catch the plant. A ringed hand.

When Eddie says your name again, it’s not a sigh. It’s laced with panic as you support your full weight against white plaster and stare at where knuckles wrap around faux wooden stems.

“Hey,” he stresses, hand leaving your line of sight as he puts a large palm on each of your shoulders. You can’t look at him, not yet, “Hey, can you breathe for me? C’mon, big breaths.”

This close, you can smell the cologne. It’s not even the same woodsy drugstore scent that had lingered on the pillowcases he’d left you to cling to while on tour. Even that, something so miniscule as what cologne he now wore, had changed. And the new and unfamiliar scent chokes you, turns your desperate gasps for air even more futile.

You had walked out of that apartment two years ago, without any intention of ever being this close to him again. You’d sworn to yourself you’d never be this close again.

“You’re having a panic attack,” he squeezes your shoulders within his hold ever so slightly, as if attempting to ground you, “You need to breathe.”

Your eyes nervously find his brown ones. For a second, you recall summer days when the sun would hit them just right, turning them into molten honey for your tasting. Soft and glowing, warming you from the inside out so effortlessly.

But there’s not a single shred of sunlight in this hallway. The dark brown falls flat against your vision.

“I’m fine,” you very clearly aren’t, struggling to even get the words out into the air between you two, “I’m- I’m fine.”

He doesn’t fight you when you reach up to swat away his hands. He lets you, hands falling away with ease, touch retracting as if it had never burned you. You take the chance to look over the metal now settled on his fingers, and you realize he still wears all the same ones you remember so vividly. A cross, a pig’s face, an animalistic skull. But there are new ones added to his collection, adorned on his right hand rather than the left. Unfamiliar and odd, the bulky metallic additions are more plentiful. A silver snake wrapped around his pinky, a large spider with the body of a Magic 8 ball on his pointer, a bat spread eagle on his middle. There’s a chunkier one on his thumb, thinner ones added above a few of his second knuckles, but you can’t clear the haze of your vision long enough to pick up on the designs. You choose to focus back on the familiar ones instead, old and comforting even in your panic.

New rings, new cologne, new habits – the Eddie before you is not the Eddie you once knew.

“Okay,” he’s whispering now. You’re not even sure what excuse he used to follow you out here without causing a scene. Maybe he did cause a scene, surely a grander one than you. He had that privilege now; he was an untouchable rockstar, he could afford to raise a ruckus. “I… Are you sure?”

It’s hard to believe there was a time he was a familiar comfort when all that remains now is the awkward distance between the two of you.

But when he takes a step back from you, the new cologne leaves your stratosphere and the new rings leave your field of vision, and the breaths finally come just a tiny bit easier. Still not enough to satiate your lungs, but enough that the headrush begins to pass.

“I’m sure.”

You try to insert such finality in those two words. As if whatever had just happened would fade and never exist, as if you could walk back into that conference room and take yourself off this project. You can’t. Eddie has a sense of control, a grip on his reality and the reigns of his choices, but you don’t. If you were to demand Lydia remove you from the project, you’d be risking termination. You’d be risking everything – and it may not be much, but you’d built it brick by broken brick these last few years. You’d salvaged what you had been able to out of the ashes of what had been, but it hadn’t been enough. It had hardly been enough for a foundation. You’d built up the person that now stood before him from practical scratch.

The weight of just how much you had to lose hits suddenly – the realization that this was happening and you had no control of it.

But Eddie did. He had to.

“You need to go back in there,” you start, voice still shaking and eyes still averted, “And you need to demand that they reassign you guys. You… You need-” you begin to stutter and fumble to find the right words. You could have lashed out, could have tried to pour salt in a wound you weren’t even sure still existed so that Eddie made the choice on his own. But your mind is muddled and you’re desperate, “Someone else can take on the project. You need to go and demand that someone else takes on the project.”

“What?” Not the response you wanted. Not the response you needed, “I- No.”

Two years later, and he still found a way to do significant damage.

Your eyes snap up, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no.”

“I haven’t asked anything of you. Not back then, not after everything happened, I-”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Can’t ask for anything if you just fall off the face of the fucking earth.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but as his walls begin to build, you realize that the prior interaction had been something vulnerable. Something where neither of you were on the defense quite yet like you’d always imagined a reunion would go. All that had mattered ten seconds ago was you being okay, him coming after you, making sure you were fine. He’d allotted you all the care and attention you had craved so terribly two years ago, nearly begged for until your knees had bled for.

“Eddie,” you whisper, getting too distressed to think straight, “Please, for the love of God, just make them reassign the project-”

“I can’t,” he interrupts, shaking his head, “Do you think I’d put myself through this if I could help it? I fucking can’t. I have absolutely no control in there. I didn’t even-” he cuts off his sentence, looking you in your eyes, leaving more to be said.

He didn’t even what?

“I can’t do anything about it,” he says instead of whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, “Trust me – if I could, I would. But I can’t. So why don’t you say something?”

It’s your turn for scoffing and disbelief, “I can’t. I’m not the one with all the power and glory-”

“Is that what you think I have?”

“That’s what I know you have.”

You both go quiet as a battlefield fills the distance between you. All anger, all regret. None of the love or care that had once existed between you two exists here in this quantum plane of sharp words and deadly jabs.

“Just- please ask for a reassignment,” you try with one final plea, eyes hard on him, “Say that that first impression left you unimpressed, I don’t care. She won’t fire me for that.”

“Once again, no. As it turns out,” his voice is low, dangerous, unfamiliar. A tone he had never used before with you, “Even the one with all the power and all the glory can’t make miracles happen. Sorry, doll.”

He doesn’t await your response, leaving you on your own as you stay pressed against the wall and he’s walking away.

What is the saying? ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?

You were certainly feeling scorned.

You felt ripped wide open, beaten and bruised and damn scorned as he leaves a conversation you weren’t finished with. You can’t tell which limb aches the most – the shoulder where his now strange hands had held onto you, your fingers that had curled into pained fists at your side to show you were prepared for a fight, your rib cage that still struggled to expand and accommodate the air now vacant of his cologne that you needed after your panic attack, or the legs that had once carried you away from Eddie Munson only to lead you right back to him.

There’s nothing you can do, though, beyond composing yourself. You take the same big, deep breaths that Eddie had tried to coax out of you moments before. Your fists slowly unfurl and your palms rake against the side of your jeans in an attempt to wipe away the sweat of the interaction.

Fine. If he wouldn’t help you, you could handle this. You could manage this project, plan a goddamn party for your ex-boyfriend’s new single. You would treat it just as you did every other previous project you had excelled at, and you would avoid all unnecessary contact with him just as you had with previous clients.

As a matter of fact, you could probably get away with avoiding all contact.

He hadn’t hired you. His management had. And, according to him, he had no real power in this situation. If he had no say in the matters, then there would be no reason to reach out to him.

You could do this. You could handle this.

It’s a mantra of salvation that you repeat to yourself internally as you take confident strides back to that conference room, not even stopping for the guards this time before you burst back into the room when your imminent doom awaits.

The repetition falters a bit when all eyes land on you as you take your first steps into the room.

Your name comes out of Lydia’s mouth like a hiss, her teeth locked into a smile that would better pass into a grimace as she asks, “How nice of you to join us again. Please, take a seat.”

“Of course,” you can’t look her in her eyes for very long, immediately rushing to sit at the chair she’d motioned towards. You haven’t spared Eddie a single glance – you haven’t spared any of the boys you’d once known a look. Instead, you look up to direct an apology at the only face you don’t recognize before you, “I’m truly sorry.”

The older gentleman, wrapped in a certain kindness and warmth below his professional attire, smiles. And in an instant, his face isn’t quite as unfamiliar, “No worries. When Nature calls, right? Regardless, I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

You can guess which hole in Eddie’s life he’s attempting to smother, which shoes this man serves to fill. He has more hair than his predecessor, but the grin is the same.

If you picture the man he reminds you of back in Hawkins, you’ll surely begin to ache.

When you reply with your name, you can hear a fragment of your youth in your voice. Better days spent in Forest Hills trailer park, loitering about a trailer as Wayne Munson asks you how well of an eye you’ve been keeping on his nephew. You’d always lie, say you were keeping him in line when you knew you’d spent the day following him right into trouble, like some sort of lost puppy. Like some sort of loyal soldier. It occurs to you that that’s who you had always been; a fierce soldier over the shoulder of Eddie, ever the brave commander. You would have followed him into battle without a second of consideration, you did follow him all the way to New York without ever taking a final glance at your hometown.

You wondered if he had tried to replace you as well. You imagine it; the new and fresh face that replaced yours in picture frames, that laid beside him at the end of each night he returned home, that heard a whisper of I love you over the line to the backtrack of a sound rehearsal.

Were there ever any bloody wars between him and his new lovers that could compare to the battles never fought between you two? Did anyone else in this world know the wounds of his gun never fired?

The smoke clears. You still don’t look at Eddie, afraid to only see the commander you once knew. You force a smile, putting on a soldier's bravado that doesn’t fit quite right anymore.

Bullets never fired, triggers never pulled, but the blood stained the same.

“So, where shall we begin?”

—

Matt does most of the talking for the next hour. Sheet after sheet of paperwork is laid down in front of you, your hand beginning to cramp from signing your name so many times, and the details are discussed.

A new single, set to release in three months. A release party that needed to be grandeur and garner the type of attention that Matt feared had been waning from the band due to radio silence on their music front. The outlines of the project were clear cut, simple enough, and you had yourself fooled just well enough that this would be easy.

You kept your eyes set on the prize and never once noticed the tomfoolery occurring between the band members. The words on the tip of their tongues that Eddie keeps quiet through quick kicks to their shins beneath the table, the individual hurt reflected in each of their eyes as you treat them no better than strangers. That treatment of Eddie, they understood. But them?

They could never understand.

“What’s the name of the single, if I may ask?” you question as you look over one of your copies of the paperwork. Lydia had been eerily silent, allowing you to take the lead.

Despite the rough start, it was paying off. Having a switch for your emotions can be a good thing, as it turns out.

“You may,” Matt nods before turning to the boys. It’s the first time he's looked to them for answers during the entire meeting, “Shall I do the honors, or would you boys rather do it yourselves?”

It’s a chance for all the members of Corroded Coffin to open their mouths without silent reprimanding from Eddie beneath the table, but he beats them to it.

“Dial Tone.”

You freeze your reading.

There’s something in the way he says it that forces you to look up. As if he’s only speaking to you, and the rest of the room is a faded mirage for him to send away for these private moments. Still a commander, even when his bravest soldier has left him.

“Sounds… interesting,” you murmur, taking a few seconds too long to meet his gaze, unsure of what to say, “Rolls off the tongue easily.”

“It certainly does. Which, ironic, given the situation that inspired the song.”

“And what would that be?”

You’re both wearing masks in front of an audience half made up of people painfully aware of your history, and the rest being painfully oblivious.

Does Matt know about you? Lydia certainly doesn’t know about Eddie.

“Words never said. Answers never given. Phone calls missed and never… returned.”

You’re not stupid, but you wish you were. It feels a bit selfish, a bit self absorbed, to so quickly assume you’re the inspiration.

But how could you believe anything else when Eddie is looking at you like that?

Hollow eyes, devoid of all the honey you once reveled in. Not so much of a stain of sweetness you swear you still taste on the back of your tongue. He’s looking at you with blame, well-deserved anger, and yet not an ounce of the guilt that should exist somewhere in those depths.

“How riveting,” you play along, trying to swallow down the waves of emotions, “Sounds like it’ll really draw in your audience. Might even be relatable to a few.”

Answers never given. Like how someone could stop saying they loved someone they’d spent years planning their life with, like how he could stop calling so easily, how he could leave so easily.

“Fingers crossed,” his forced smile in return is almost sinister, and you know it was the right choice to avoid speaking to each other until this moment.

There will be no contact. You know now that if you take on this project, which you technically have through law-binding contracts, that you won’t be able to be civil with Eddie. There is a history that can never be erased, mistakes made and wounds inflicted by both sides. Two worlds of hurt caused by opposing sets of hands that can only clash when they try to meet in the middle.

But then Matt, sweet Matt that you had come to actually like during this meeting, has to burst your bubble.

“Right, well, the good news is the boys aren’t on tour for the time being, meaning there will be plenty of time to talk about the small details and how the single will come into play during planning,” he explains, happily and still so unaware, “As a matter of fact, I would like to emphasize just how much I would appreciate you including the boys, especially Eddie, in this ordeal. His participation would be very helpful.”

Some silent form of communication happens between Matt and Eddie, glinting eyes and sudden frowns meeting raised eyebrows and fake smiles, but it’s not your concern.

The last thing you want during this project is Eddie’s involvement.

“Of course!” You need to think of an excuse, push for a way to keep him out, “But if Eddie is too busy, I’ll completely understand. I know that a single usually means an album, and that can be very time consum-”

“He won’t be too busy,” Matt interrupts, still staring at Eddie as if he’s daring him, not even questioning you singling him out as he does the exact same.

You recall what Eddie had insisted in the hallway, that his reach of control wasn’t as far as you had been assuming.

Swallowing hard, you see another relic of Wayne Munson in this man – he wasn’t someone to argue with, “Right, of course. Eddie will be involved. Absolutely.”

All the power and all the glory – but did it really rest in Eddie’s palms like you assumed?

“She has a point,” Eddie finally finds his voice, leaning back in his chair, trying to relax the tension from his shoulders, “I do have the album to work on.”

“And now you have this. I’m sure you can find a way to multi-task.”

Your comparison was accurate. It had been a while since you had seen another grown man capable of shutting Eddie down so quickly, tearing down his walls of affinity for challenging authority and reducing him to nothing more than a shell of his younger self. Matt and Wayne would have gotten along well. You doubt that they’ve met, but you know a bond would have formed between the common denominator of being able to subdue the once-rambunctious boy before you.

Eddie pouts nearly the complete remainder of the meeting. And those foolish, bitter shards within you become determined to be the bigger person. To smile and nod along, even when you disagreed with certain terms discussed. To be agreeable, to be good, to be better. This new version of you has something to prove; that you’ve done better without Eddie, that you’ve changed into something that no longer aligns with who he is.

It’s all for show, but you tell yourself no one can see through the cellophane disguise.

The only remaining signatures aren’t required from you but the rest of the boys. A single contract is passed down the line, and each of them sign themselves away to the agreement. Line after line of swooping black ink locks the five of you into an entrapment, a crowded dance of newly made strangers who have no choice but to play pretend.

Eddie makes it a deliberate point that he’s the last one to sign. Forces Grant to slide the prettily detailed paper right in front of him until it’s clear he’s making no move to pick up his pen, and the poor guy has to stretch a bit further and let Gareth take it rather than the stubborn rockstar. Only once Jeff’s own night-shade of ink has looped over one of the many lines does it return back to Eddie.

He looks you in the eyes for several seconds too long, pen crooked beside the paper on the table. You can’t take a single breath as you register how lifeless his eyes remain.

He’s not the person you once knew, but you are no longer the girl that once saw the world in him.

You will not drop to your knees before him, you will not worship the ground he walks on, you will not break. Certainly not first. Certainly not at all.

There’s no final words before hands donning unfamiliar rings pick up a pen amongst the silence. Just the click of bringing the ink to life, and the soft scratch of promises that will not be kept. It’s nothing new amongst the two of you.

As a matter of fact, if the scratch of the pen could echo, it might just resemble the sound of the door on that haunted and vacant apartment closing for the final time behind you two years ago.

—

“Do you two know each other?”

You had been waiting for this moment. Once Matt had called for a quick break so that he could organize and make copies of all paperwork, you knew Lydia would be chasing you down.

“What do you mean?” you question airily, topping off the small paper cup of water you had used as an excuse to dismiss yourself into the corner of the room, “Me and Matt? No, I’ve never-”

“Not you and Matt,” she moves to stand in front of you, your back to the room and the band, as she continues in an authoritative whisper, “You and the band – you and Eddie.”

“Why do you think we know each other?”

Please don’t catch on. Please don’t notice. Please don’t make me admit it.

Please don’t fire me.

She retrieves her own water, moving as if she wasn’t having such an intense conversation with you at this moment. All a show for the clients, no doubt. You weren’t the only skilled actress in this room, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you ran out of this room when you saw him, maybe the way he ran after you without a word. Maybe the way the two of you spent a good ten minutes alone in that hallway, and how the rest of that band has been looking at you like you’re a ghost. Please don’t tell me you had a fling with Eddie before this. I really need my best person on this project, but I can’t have personal relationships interferin-”

“No, we don’t know each other,” you cut her off, ignoring the compliment and taking a sip to give your chance to formulate a better addition to the lie. It wasn’t really a lie, though, was it? “I promise it’s nothing, and it won’t interfere. I just…” I just hate him. I just miss the version of him I used to know. I just need you to take me off this project as quickly as possible for a reason that won’t make you think less of me or affect my future career here. “I don’t like the band, you know this.”

“I knew you weren’t a fan of them, but…” she trails off and looks over your shoulder, no doubt surveying the band. When you stood up from the table, they’d all been feigning boredom as if they hadn’t been taking turns staring you down so intensely. You felt like an animal under observation. “I thought it would be a good thing. To have a neutral party take this on. Why, exactly, don’t you like them?”

“ I don’t think he’s a good person.”

He as in Eddie. It goes as unspoken knowledge. And, technically, it isn’t a lie. Based on the headlines, based on his coolness this entire interaction, you don’t think he’s a good person. Not anymore.

You can feel the four sets of eyes on you even now. Your exchange with Lydia has been too quiet for them to hear, but you know you’re still being watched carefully.

“You don’t have to think he’s a good person, but you do need to play nice,” Lydia reminds you. You open your mouth, prepared to argue that you had been playing nice when Lydia waves her free hand to stop you, “I know, I know. I’m not saying you haven’t been perfectly professional. You have been, aside from your… bathroom break at the beginning, but please just remember that.”

You nod, stiff as ever. She was giving you more grace than you deserved if you tried to look at it from an outsider’s point of view.

“Of course,” that tone of professionalism, that mask to hide the whirlwind of emotions. You could do this.

You had to do this.

Choice is an illusion when Matt returns with the copies of paperwork, dividing the files up between himself and Lydia. Choice is an illusion as fake smiles are exchanged and pleasant goodbyes are offered. Choice is nothing but smoke and mirrors when all is said and done, and the entire group of you all stand outside the conference room, ready to part ways with a promise of next time, meaning the next meeting.

You never had a choice in any of this. Eddie did, somewhere along the line, but you didn’t.

Lydia and you both hand over business cards to Matt’s waiting hands, a deliberate move on your part. You bypass Eddie’s expectant glare entirely. The quicker this is over with, the faster he’s exiting the building and no longer occupying the same room as you, the better.

“We’ll be in contact,” Matt promises as he tucks the cards away carefully.

“I look forward to it,” you assure him, as if you weren’t dreading every second of what those contracts had detailed.

Three months. You had just signed on to guarantee Eddie Munson being back in your life for three months. The thought makes you nauseous.

Matt, ever the normal person, takes it as his queue to leave. Lydia has nodded, turned and began her short trek to her office as the band’s manager starts his journey to the elevator. Most of Corroded Coffin scampers after him, gazes on the floor as they retreat to a private space that will certainly be filled with questions. You almost wish there was a way for you to hear what will be said. The topic of conversation, undoubtedly, will be you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. A pair of intertwined souls that had taken a sharp knife to your connection only to end up with Fate cruelly retying it on this dreadful day.

Fate, and Eddie, it seems.

His hand reaches out and catches your upper arm before you can escape the exchange properly.

“Can we talk?” You stare at him blankly to hide the racing of your heart and pounding in your mind. Those hands on you, skin on skin, leaving an inevitable mark. An inevitable stain. “Go for coffee, go for lunch, just-”

“No.”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Your pause was only born out of shock.

His eyebrows furrow, “No? What do you mean no?”

It feels like a pathetic repeat of your interaction in the hallway, when you had begged him to save you from this doomed union. Except now, you hold the cards in your hand. The first sense of control you’ve been offered this entire time.

“I mean no,” you repeat yourself clearly. Matt is halfway down the hall, and the boys trailing right behind him seem to fumble over their steps for a second. Jeff even goes as far as to look over his shoulder at the brewing storm appearing behind them, but clearly thinks better of intruding, “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want coffee, and I don’t want lunch.”

End of story.

Except, it isn’t, because Eddie’s face only twists further in pain, “We have to talk at some point-”

“Actually, we don’t. I’d prefer we didn’t. I think we can both agree it’ll be better, easier, for both of us to keep this strictly professional until we can go our separate ways again.”

He looks as if you had physically reached out and struck him. The force of your words nearly makes him rock backwards, face falling and mouth agape as he tries to grapple with the determination in your words.

If you were a fool, you’d mistake it for a flash of disappointment. But it’s not possible – it couldn’t be disappointment, only arrogance. He had obviously been assuming you would just give in. Your change just hadn’t become clear enough to him yet. It would, in time.

And now, the two of you seemingly had too much of it to endure.

“Actually, I think we can both agree that’s a load of bullshit,” he crassly argues back once he’s regained composure, “You know that’s not possible.”

You shake your head, suck in a bit of the skin of your inner cheek between your molars as an internal encouragement to stand your ground, “It is. It’s not only possible, but is exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You heard Matt. We have to talk at some point, even if it’s just about this and not us.”

“And we will. We can talk about this project all you want, Eddie. But not over lunch, and not over coffee,” you swear you draw blood from your cheek as you take back on that tone of professionalism, ice cold and completely disconnected, “My preferred form of contact is email. I usually respond in a timely manner, even after hours-”

“Don’t do that,” he stops you.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another one of your clients.”

The metallic flavor floods the deepest corners of your mouth, overtaking the aftertaste of a honey you once knew on the back of your tongue, “That’s exactly what you are. One of my clients.”

Just a client, and nothing more. A boundary must be drawn, or else there will be more blood spilled than a mere drop from biting your inner cheek. And you aren’t prepared to bleed for him – not again. Never again.

He opens his mouth, as if he has more to dig out of the grave of this conversation, when Matt’s voice calls from down the hallway, “Eddie! C’mon! There’ll be time to talk later, we’ve got a meeting with the producer across town now.”

His stance goes rigid, annoyance rolling off him in waves, eyes still focused on you.

Maybe the reminder of time, the three month timeline, hurts him just as much as it hurts you. Maybe, just possibly, his arm has also been twisted in carving out a space for you in his life once more, whether strictly professional or not.

He deeply exhales through his nose, “I don’t even have your email.”

“Matt does. He has my card.”

“Yeah, he does. I don’t. How am I supposed to reach you through your preferred form of contact without it?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

You mean to smile at him just as you would the owner of the bakery opening on Third Street, or the mother of a bride trying to share the weight of responsibilities for a wedding. It doesn’t come off that way, though – you can feel the sadness of it tickle the corners of your mouth before he’s even slowly turning from you.

You watch the figure of Eddie Munson walk away from you, and you begin to wish he were walking out of your life rather than only out of the building for the time being.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos @dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #i couldn't access my taglist response list for a few days so the taglists are NOT updated! they will be soon :)#half-assedly edited #i am now going to bed because i am the sleepiest girl to ever exist EVER #playing around with formatting don't mind me

456 notes · View notes

covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago

Text

Brigham and Women’s study: Drug-free nasal spray could protect against COVID, flu - Published Sept 25, 2024

The problem with such drugs is that they do not and cannot work in the throat and lung, other notable infection sites of both these viruses. Masking remains the best way to protect yourself from airborne pathogens, but this is an interesting development for prophylaxis. Studies have shown that neuro-covid symptoms are worst for people whose ACE2 receptors in the sinuses were infected. This could help combat that. The idea that it could also offer drug-free protection from allergens is also interesting. Further study is needed.

By Grace Zokovitch

A new study found a new drug-free nasal spray may protect against respiratory infections like COVID and the flu, according to Brigham and Women’s Hospital.

“The COVID pandemic showed us what respiratory pathogens can do to humanity in a very short time,” said Jeffrey Karp, co-senior author of the study and chair in Anesthesiology at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. “That threat hasn’t gone away.

“We need new, additional ways to protect ourselves and reduce the transmission of the disease,” Karp added.

The preclinical studies show the nasal spray called Pathogen Capture and Neutralizing Spray or PCANS may be able to block respiratory illnesses, the hospital announced. The study was done out of Brigham and Women’s Hospital and published in the journal Advanced Materials.

The hospital stated that protection methods like vaccines and masks can be beneficial but aren’t perfect, noting that “influenza and COVID-19 infections cause thousands of deaths and hundreds of thousands of cases of severe disease every year.”

Most viruses enter through human’s noses, the release stated, spreading when infected people breathe out tiny droplets of fluid. Healthy people inhale the droplets, the hospital said, infecting “cells that line the nasal passageways.”

Researchers formulated the nasal spray to stop the infection in the nose using ingredients that the FDA has approved for use in other nasal sprays or determined safe. The spray was tested in a laboratory setting using replicas of human noses and mice and has not been tested on humans.

“We developed a drug-free formulation using these compounds to block germs in three ways — PCANS forms a gel-like matrix that traps respiratory droplets, immobilizes the germs, and effectively neutralizes them, preventing infection,” said co-senior author Nitin Joshi, an Assistant Professor of Anesthesiology.

When sprayed in a nasal cavity replica, the release stated, “PCANS captured twice as many droplets as mucus alone.” Mice treated with the spray showed it block the influenza virus at 25 times the lethal dose, giving them “complete protection,” researchers said.

“PCANS forms a gel, increasing its mechanical strength by a hundred times, forming a solid barrier,” said primary author John Joseph, a former postdoctoral fellow at Brigham and Women’s Hospital.

“It blocked and neutralized almost 100% of all viruses and bacteria we tested, including Influenza, SARS-CoV-2, RSV, adenovirus, K Pneumonia and more.”

Researchers added that the inflammatory cells and cytokines in the lungs of animals treated with the spray were “normal.”

The hospital stated that the study “provides a strong foundation for future research” into PCANS and researchers are already exploring whether the spray may block allergens.

#mask up #covid #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator

49 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 6 months ago

Note

May I request a romantic concept *or* alphabet for Cersei Lannister (Game of Thrones) please?

Take as much time as you need, I really started to like her around seasons 5 and 6 ^^

🕊️ anon

Sure! I kept most of the info here general due to where I am in the story. So hopefully this concept can be applied to all seasons :)

Yandere! Cersei Lannister Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Blackmail, Coercion, Threats, Sadism, Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Stalking, Mind break, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Implied intimacy, Violence, Murder, Blood, Sexism mentioned, Forced "relationship".

You just know Cersei's one of the worst yanderes to have.

She often betrays those who trust her and only looks out for herself.

Every word out of her mouth is no doubt a lie.

Which means, even her obsession is strung along with her words and actions.

Cersei is aware of the fear people feel for her, she knows with one simple order she can have someone executed and their House either destroyed or tainted.

In fact, fear is often something she uses against her darling.

Cersei's primary way of keeping you in line is messing with your head.

Cersei would accuse you and your House of crimes you didn't commit, gaslighting you into obedience.

You may not be aware of your crimes, but she has witnesses and spies (whom she paid to go along with it... or threatened).

However, if you or your family were genuinely conspiring against her and her family...?

Great, now she can blackmail you into submission.

Essentially, Cersei will find dirt on you to have an excuse to watch you.

It doesn't matter if said dirt is real or imagined... she'll find some way to keep you under her command.

This method would also be how the queen kidnaps you for herself later on.

She's merely imprisoning you for your crimes.

Which is just a front to have you under her watch all the time.

Cersei is worse than merely a liar... she's ruthless, sadistic.

There's times she really does act like a lioness, proving true to the Lannister crest.

Cersei puts up the act of being mature and regal.

In reality, due to a lack of parenting, she's self-centered, immature, petty, a brat.

She's ambitious and short-sighted.

Cersei is willing to sacrifice a lot to get you into her arms.

In fact, she rarely even considers the consequences.

She doesn't entirely think things through.

As long as she gets her way, that's all that matters.

She doesn't care if you hate her.

Fine, you can, but she isn't letting go.

In fact, if she breaks you...

Then you can never leave her side, you'll have unwavering loyalty.

Except, Cersei doesn't even think that through half the time.

Breaking you could make you an unentertaining husk... she'd lose you.

In more ways than one if you were pushed way too far.

Cersei is dangerous to all who's around her.

She doesn't see her obsession as their own being most of the time.

She sees you as a pet, an extension of herself sometimes.

It's hard to say if the "love" she has for you is even genuine.

Where's the line when it comes to her?

Even towards her own children... "love" with her isn't love.

It feels almost like narcissistic ownership.

As queen, her word is law.

She has you under watch all the time.

She gives you your own chambers at first, a guard always by your door to prevent escape.

But soon enough she's trying to convince you to share her chambers, just to have you within arm reach.

If you disobey her, she disregards chambers all together.

You can sit in a cell for all she cares.

You'd still be hers.

Those close to you are threatened, used for bargaining, or outright executed.

What better way to gain compliance than using those close to you as a way to bargain.

She knows you're close to your House, she knows you have friends...

She knows you had past lovers... perhaps even children...

Cersei is not afraid to sacrifice everything you hold dear if it means your loyalty and obedience is only towards her.

She's petty and impossible to reason with.

She cares little when you cry at the sight of all the blood.

Or when she tells you she had someone's head mounted on a pike for being too close to you.

In fact, Cersei would demolish your House and home if it meant you had to rely on her.

You can't disobey if you have nothing to fight for, right?

Cersei is no doubt seductive and flirtatious towards you.

She has seduced many to garner their loyalty.

To her, this isn't about love.

This is about power and control...

Cersei's a megalomaniac, power means everything.

She wants to prove to others that they should fear her.

She may be no man, but she's got power and is ruthless all the same.

She gains sadistic pleasure when watching you bend the knee for her.

In fact... she just likes it when you're on your knees.

Cersei is easily jealous and possessive.

Her jealous and selfish attitude is the reason blood is spilled.

She does offer to wipe your tears when you see her kill another who's close to you... picking them off one by one like she did Robert Baratheon's illegitimates...

Yet afterwards she tells you not to shed anymore for them.

To Cersei, she owns all of you.

Your tears, your blood, everything...

You can't stop her.

When she lures you in close with promises of seduction and pardons for supposed crimes... she then locks you up.

You get to be stuck in a cell for her entertainment.

If you're lucky and obey, she'll reward you.

She'll give you little kisses, an affectionate touch anywhere you want.

She'll gladly use seduction to keep you hooked on her... to rely on her.

Perhaps even let you out and make you her royal pet.

She doesn't need a ring to keep you as hers.

She just needs threats, coercion, and sweet little praises to make you loyal.

Resist all you want, she'll break you down all the same.

She's the queen, she gets what she wants.

She proves that to you countless times, kissing you hungrily with a bruising grip.

She doesn't resort to whining to make you love her.

She simply takes what she wants, because you are hers.

It doesn't matter if her "love" for you is mutual or not...

She'll take you for herself all the same.

#yandere game of thrones #yandere got #yandere cersei lannister

64 notes · View notes

elodee · 8 months ago

Text

HERMIT A DAY MAY - DAY 5

TinFoilChef x The Lord of the Rings (1978)

For TFC, I chose Ralph Bakshi's animated 1978 adaptation of The Lord of the Rings. I picked this one for TFC because he always made me think of Tolkein dwarves (what with the beard and the love of mining) and I wanted to draw him content and taking a rest in a cave. Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings, with its beautiful painted backgrounds, was the perfect fit here. If you want to learn more about Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings and see my reference images, take a look under the cut! (And of course, don't forget about the fundraiser for Gamers Outreach! Today is the BONUS DAY DOLLAR DRIVE so go throw in a dollar if you can!)

Ralph Bakshi's 1978 The Lord of the Rings is the direct origin of many of the designs and visual concepts that would later be used in Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings. While I love both adaptations, Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings is much lesser known now and overshadowed by the live-action movies, which is genuinely a shame. The movie covers the events of The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers but the final Return of the King installment was never made. The animation is visually interesting and a little strange, since it uses traditional cartoon cell animation in combination with rotoscoping. The animation is overlaid on a series of atmospheric painted backgrounds which creates a beautifully surreal viewing experience. I watched Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings as a kid with my family and I just want more people to see and appreciate it too.

Style references:

The animated characters don't have any shading in most scenes and stand out from the very dynamically shaded backgrounds. There is a wide range of character designs in the movie, but for TFC I followed the design choices seen in the human characters and Gimli.

The backgrounds for the movie are stunning. This image in particular is actually concept art for the Mines of Moria, but it is in line with actual backgrounds from the movie and I really liked it so I used it as my primary inspiration for TFC's cave.

The 1978 The Lord of the Rings title design

#This is one of my favourites so far #I think I managed to reproduce the style very well #The background was a challenge for me but really fun to play around with and I'm happy with the results #tinfoilchef #tfc #hermitaday #hermitcraft #rest in peace tfc

100 notes · View notes

tobiasdrake · 8 months ago

Note

Does Perfect Cell have Agency?

Cell is... difficult to get a read on, as a character. The extreme jankiness of the Android arc left us with an oddball of a villain whose level of wickedness doesn't seem in line with the scope of his motives.

Cell is a weird character for me because he just seems... unfinished but also overly symbolic moreso than a literal person.

What does PIccolo actually want? He wants to kill everyone because he's mindlessly evil. After he reincarnates, the question "What does Piccolo actually want?" becomes a major facet of his journey.

What does Frieza actually want? He wants to kill planets and sell them for profit because he's a real estate speculator, and also to be immortal and untouchable. This extreme want coupled with the callousness with which he pursues it is what fuels his unbelievable cruelty and heartlessness, and makes him the most evil person in the Dragon Ball universe.

What does Majin Buu want? Again, this question becomes a major facet of his journey and opens up new sides to him, because Buu himself doesn't know the answer to that.

Which. Brings us to. What does Cell want?

He likes to spook. He wants to have fun. He's a spooker looking for a good time.

Cell's primary goal is to a) become really strong, and then b) prove his mettle by testing himself against the greatest fighters in the world. He's a tournament arc villain presented with the gravitas and stakes of an epic adventure villain.

It's wild because everybody here wants to get really strong and then prove their mettle by fighting Goku. That's what this whole social dynamic is about. That is literally the main goal that everyone in this group pursues. Well, except Trunks and Gohan.

In a sense, Cell's just... one of the guys. Like. He's a rotten dirty bastard to be sure. But it's not like that's a barrier for entry into this group.

"I WILL KILL AS MANY PEOPLE AS I HAVE TO AS LONG AS YOU ARE ONE OF THEM!" ~TFS

So his goal is to get strong and fight strong guys. But. Like. Who's isn't?

And he's a cruel, sadistic monster. But. Like. We're fine with that. Vegeta's our bestie and Piccolo joined this crew way before he reformed too.

This guy could legit just be hosting the Tenkaichi Budokai. (And he DOES.) In terms of overarching character, nothing about him reads "Epic villain that must be stopped at all costs". So Toriyama really had to ratchet up the moment-by-moment horror to make him fit.

What Cell wants is not that big a deal. Get strong, fight strong guys, and also he's an asshole about it. So he's given a vile mechanism for attaining the strength he needs. In his base state, Cell can drink people to gain their power for himself.

He's basically Piccolo if Piccolo were born a parasitic vampire instead of a flesh-and-blood Namekian? It's weird. His whole introduction where he walks out and explains his entire character so Toriyama's pal will get off his back about the Twins is weird.

"Hi there, Piccolo. Did you know that I'm an evil bio-android from the future who wants to absorb the Twins to become really powerful? Also I eat people and I have the genetic makeup of five of the most powerful warriors in the universe, as well as having all of their techniques and abilities. I think that about covers everything. Toodles!"

So we have a character whose primary goal is to defeat the two characters who, up until this point, were billed as the antagonists and are currently seeking to kill Goku as we speak. Like. That's Trunks. Cell is Trunks again. So to make it read as sinister and bad, the means for him to achieve Trunks's goal requires him to kill people in visceral and horrifying ways, and also he's a jerk about it.

This is far from the worst thing a Dragon Ball character, even the ones on the protagonist side, has ever done. But it's so viscerally horrifying that it feels like the worst thing they've ever done.

Then again, that guy was part of the 1% so maybe it's deserved.

Truly, Cell is a champion of the underclass. He's literally eating the rich. What's not to like?

I jest. Point is, Cell is a villain of vibes more than anything. In practical terms, Vegeta gleefully slaughtered entire planets and Majin Buu exterminated 80% of the world's population for fun. In fact, Buu even single-targets people and turns them into food to chomp down on too, so he and Cell have a lot in common.

To be perfectly honest, Buu feels like a second draft of Cell with more time and thought put into his character.

So, logically, eating a bunch of people isn't that big of a deal relative to some of the other shit that people we're hanging out with have done. Hell, we spend a portion of this arc helping to power up Vegeta to stop Mr. City Devourer over here.

"Hey best buddy, you're a remorseless monster who's slaughtered billions of people and is only chill now because you're stranded on Earth with no better options. Want to come with me so we can make you a hundred times deadlier and fight this guy who wants to eat the Androids that destroyed the world in the future?"

And then Cell's over here like.

"All done eating people. Thanks y'all." Like a parasitic version of the Genki-Dama. Uh. Cool. Glad we could help. Let's go Dragon Balls them all back to life and then I guess we're done here?

It's the vibe. Cell's wickedness is a vibe. It's in the means he needs to undergo to achieve the ends of becoming strong. It's in the sadistic personality he shares with 4/5 of his genetic makeup (two of whom are in the protag party). And it's in his long-term plans for what to do after the tournament when he runs out of strong guys to fight.

It's like they ran out of ideas for why we even need to fight this guy once he ate the Androids and completed our mission of defeating them and thwarting Trunks's future. So Cell's like, "By the way if we don't defeat me in an epic climax, I'm going to aimlessly wander the globe killing humans individually forever, I guess."

No real ambitions of any kind beyond "Get strong, fight strong guys". He just. Is a dick.

This is sandwiched between vanquishing the CEO of Galactic Genocide Incorporated and fighting a god-killing abomination who made the heavens themselves run red with blood. Cell wants to get strong and fight strong guys, and he'll become Jason Voorhees if we don't deliver. That's it. That's the entire plot. It's so weird. He's the ultimate despicable monster villain up to this point but it doesn't really feel like he should be.

Cell isn't really a character, so much as he is an idea. Specifically, he is a summary of Goku's entire journey up to this point, all rolled up into this one asshole. He is Goku, and also the major villains Goku has fought.

He is the Tenkaichi Budokai.

He's a limit-breaking Super Saiyan who becomes stronger through Namekian Fusion of others like him and also regenerates and gets Zenkai boosts.

He is the concept of everything that Dragon Ball has ever been.

Hey remember when Piccolo-Daimao blew up that one district during a live broadcast? Do you remember? Cell is Playing the Hits, The Character. But with purpose and intent.

This is why it's hard for me to get a read on Cell. Because who he is isn't so different from much of the cast but what he needs to be is something else: He is the complete assessment of the journey Goku's undertaken over the course of his life, presented all at once for Gohan to surpass.

The physical embodiment of what Gohan must overcome to be his father's successor.

His character, his motives, his ambitions, his desires, it all takes a backseat to the simple utilitarian purpose of providing a symbolic nemesis to mark Gohan's ascension. Hastily assembled once Toriyama decided that was going to be the real actual plot for realsies no takebacks this time.

It's hard for me to assess Cell because I feel too strongly that he needed a second draft.

Which. Like. Apparently Toriyama agreed.

As a character and as a story, Majin Buu is hit or miss but he hits most of the same beats as Cell and really does feel like Toriyama trying to take a mulligan on this entire villain concept.

Mileage may vary on whether he pulled it off.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #cell

55 notes · View notes

potatoparakeet · 3 months ago

Text

Some of my meet the Robinsons headcanons 🫣 cause my head is full of em. A lot of these r kinda worldbuildy but some are Robinson family based!

-I'm a believer that Franny went to school for bio-engineering (and music ofc) and put all of that knowledge towards her frogs. Maybe she even had a successful lab of her own before finally succeeding with the band, and left it to conduct full time.

- I don't think Lazlos paint gun would shoot random art, but rather Lazlo would have to manually program a painting into it somehow, and trial-and-error test it until it looks perfect.

- Billies train system through the house is Uncle Joe's primary mode of transportation across the bigger stretches of the estate.

- Along w the hover-chairs, there's a Robinson brand of wheelchairs and crutches that can fold/unfold to travel through the travel tubes and be sensed by the bubbles!

- Robinson industries is obviously the top of the line when it comes to tech products, but there are also other companies that sell similar products. The Samsungs to Cornelius's Apple.

- Future City/Todayland is Not Named That. I don't have any better ideas but both of those ain't it

- Nonetheless I think it became the biggest city in the country just due to it being the first to take on Niels cityscaping inventions. It's kind of his personal playground in that sense

- In that breath I also think there's many places in the country that just Aren't that advanced. I imagine public transportation has majorly improved but in many cities life hasn't changed all too much.

- I think it'd be interesting for Robinson Industries to have people who just HATE the things they do. Look at those instant-buildings and tell me the construction working community didn't freak out.

- imo 2037 (from what we see) seems technologically advanced in the way that people would be able to return to art- but the transition period was definitely rough as people started losing jobs to Neils tech.

- I don't know if Niel would make many robots to be sold commercially- not with the problem of AI vs humans.

- In tiny text of a concept art in the art book you can read that Cornelius created "Robinson™ Blue/Green fuel cells" which are the "world's first renewable clean-burning fuel source" source.

- If we accept that as canon and assume all the new flying cars were fueled with this energy source, we can pretty much assume ground cars went extinct pretty quickly, unless other car manufacturers and gas companies were still allowed to produce.

- Probably by 2037 the use of gas has been banned, leaving only the souly electric ground cars, which probably weren't enough to run whole businesses on. With flying cars as the new norm, roads were likely torn up.

- I don't imagine the whole car switch thing went over well with the public either tbh. I would not be happy if Some Guy told me I couldn't buy gas anymore and had to take the airbus.

- I could have sworn it was canon that Niel had won at least one nobel peace award. Does anyone else remember that

#meet the robinsons #cornelius robinson #franny robinson #i lie awake at night considering the social state of 2037

25 notes · View notes

cbk1000 · 1 year ago

Note

So what exactly is it about Merlin and Arthur that make them so ship-worthy, sparking million-word fanfics? Why does it remain one of the most popular fandoms? Why do you never seem to tire of them as a writer? (Not that I am complaining or anything. I just find the loyalty fascinating considering how much new stuff is coming out every day).

Bradley and Colin and their chemistry together as performers certainly is an important aspect of the popularity of that specific ship, but I think the endurance of the Merlin fandom as a whole is due primarily to two main things, which are: that tragic ending, and the unrealised potential of the show.

The primary consensus amongst Merlin fans if you ask them about a piece of media they're still obsessing over, twelve years after it ended, is, "BBC Merlin is terrible; it's so good." The premise and characters are interesting. There are some absolute banger lines. There are bits and pieces of it that are good. But as a whole, it's a muddled piece of trash (I still love you, BBC Merlin, don't worry). Uther is a tyrant who has committed literal genocide, and they make the main villain a woman who is a part of the oppressed class of people that he's indiscriminately murdering. Women in general get to be one of two things: love interest, or moustache-twirling villain. Arthur grows as a person only for the writing to immediately walk back that growth, usually for a cheap joke. The major narrative arcs, the most familiar, identifiable aspects of Arthurian legend in the cultural consciousness (Lancelot, the love triangle, the fall of Morgana, Mordred's betrayal, etc.) are either barely present (see: Lancelot's two seconds of screentime) or completely devoid of believable character motivation (see: Mordred suddenly turning on Arthur because he executes a woman who committed terrorism who it turns out was someone Mordred knew as a kid and completely forgot about till the moment he saw her in her jail cell).

When something is, in some ways, quite good, and in a lot of other ways, hot garbage, it leaves a wide-open sandbox for fans to play in. I think if the show were much more well-written, and consistently so, the fandom would have died out years ago. But instead, we never saw the Golden Age of Camelot. We never saw Albion united. We never saw Merlin and Arthur reunited. We were left, at the end, with one main character dead, and the other centuries later still waiting for a person the show literally describes as his other half to come back to him. People haven't moved on because they spent five seasons watching a silly, stupid family show to see its main character fail at what he was literally prophesied to achieve and hold his best friend while he died. We don't even know for sure in the end that Arthur came back to him. We see Merlin alone, in modern day, at the lake, still waiting for him, with no indication that Arthur is rising again. And for people watching the show as it aired, the BBC delivered this nut punch on Christmas Eve.

I think it's about what the show didn't do, and the space that creates for fans to come in and do it themselves, over and over again.

Also, personally, I'm trying to self-soothe.

#bbc merlin #nobody asked for an answer this long #but here it is

112 notes · View notes

legendaryturtletheorist · 2 years ago

Text

Understanding Cancer Cells: A Comprehensive Overview

Introduction:

Cancer cells are the fundamental units of cancer, a complex and diverse group of diseases that affect millions of people worldwide. In this article, we will delve into the intriguing world of cancer cells, exploring their characteristics, behavior, and significance in cancer development. Understanding these cellular villains is crucial for advancing our knowledge and improving treatment strategies for this devastating disease.

What are cancer cells?

Cancer cells are abnormal cells that grow and divide uncontrollably, evading the body's natural mechanisms of growth regulation. Unlike normal cells, which have a specific lifespan and perform specialized functions, cancer cells have altered genetic material that allows them to bypass these regulatory mechanisms. This enables them to proliferate rapidly and form tumors, disrupting the normal functioning of organs and tissues.

Characteristics of cancer cells:

Cancer cells possess several distinctive characteristics that set them apart from healthy cells:

a) Uncontrolled growth: Cancer cells divide rapidly and continuously, leading to the formation of a mass of abnormal cells known as a tumor.

b) Invasion and metastasis: Cancer cells can invade surrounding tissues and spread to distant sites through the bloodstream or lymphatic system, forming secondary tumors in a process called metastasis.

c) Genetic instability: Cancer cells often accumulate genetic mutations and alterations that drive their abnormal behavior, allowing them to evade cell death signals and promote uncontrolled growth.

d) Angiogenesis: Cancer cells have the ability to stimulate the formation of new blood vessels, ensuring a blood supply that supports their rapid growth and survival.

Origins of cancer cells:

Cancer cells can arise from various sources within the body:

a) Somatic mutations: These mutations occur in the DNA of normal, non-reproductive cells during a person's lifetime. Exposure to carcinogens, genetic predispositions, and environmental factors can contribute to the development of somatic mutations that lead to cancer.

b) Inherited mutations: In some cases, individuals inherit specific genetic mutations from their parents, which significantly increase their risk of developing certain types of cancer.

c) Stem cells: Stem cells, which have the capacity to differentiate into different cell types, can also give rise to cancer cell if they acquire genetic mutations that disrupt their normal regulation and behavior.

Importance of studying cancer cells:

Studying cancer cells plays a vital role in advancing our understanding of cancer and developing effective treatment approaches. Some key reasons include:

a) Targeted therapies: By examining the specific genetic and molecular characteristics of cancer cells, researchers can develop targeted therapies that selectively attack cancer cells while minimizing damage to healthy cells.

b) Early detection: Understanding the unique features of cancer cells helps in the development of early detection methods, enabling prompt intervention and improved patient outcomes.

c) Personalized medicine: Analyzing the genetic makeup of cancer cells can aid in tailoring treatments to individual patients, optimizing efficacy and reducing side effects.

d) Biomarkers: Identifying specific molecules or genetic markers associated with cancer cells can assist in the development of diagnostic tools and monitoring techniques.

Conclusion:

Cancer cells are at the core of cancer development and progression. Understanding their characteristics, behavior, and origins is crucial for developing effective prevention, early detection, and treatment strategies. Ongoing research continues to unravel the complexities of cancer cells, bringing hope for improved outcomes and ultimately a world without cancer.

#primary cell culture #primary cell line and secondary cell line #primary cell culture and cell line

0 notes

kosheeka · 1 year ago

Text

Immortal Cell Line

Although cell lines are easy to work with, the physiological relevance of those studies might not be high. They do not show resemblance to human body metabolism and physiology, or even morphology. The immortalization and serial passaging cause several variations in genotype and phenotype of these cells. Due to the lack of morphological or functional features, cell lines might not be able to induce relevant biomarkers. Therefore, it is always better to validate cell lines before use to make sure they are not misidentified or contaminated.

For more info on advantages and disadvantages of primary cells in culture, read here.

#human cell lines #primary human cells #immortal cell lines #human primary cells #immortalized human cell lines #immortal cells #primary cells vs cell lines #human cell lines used in research #how many immortal cell lines are there #what is an immortal cell line

1 note · View note

sea-salted-wolverine · 1 year ago

Text

Story time from fish camp: content warning for the god damn dog

So, yeah, fish camp, forget connecting with nature, nature's connecting with you at high-speed impact via fish gut. Yes, the damn dog deserves every ounce of derision, buckle up, here we go.

Let's preface this by saying the dog does not go to fish camp. He stays at home. We are all aware of this issue. No one was surprised by this chain of events. Well, maybe the dog was surprised because he has half brain cell bouncing around in his useless skull but no one else was surprised.

So Adak is a gorgeous dog. He is a specimen of his breed. He goes out in public on a leash and strangers walk up and ask about his stud. We are talking kennel club level specifications.

He is also the most cringe fail fucked up canine who ever lived. You see pugs that can't breathe because their faces are too squashed and their legs don't work but their supposed to look like that because some eugenicists thought it would be fun to pose new and exciting questions about ethics. Those fuckups are intentional.

Adak is a retriever. He was intended to be a duck dog. He is meant to sit quietly next to you while you shoot a duck and then go get it for you. That's the entire purpose of his breed. He came from a litter of pups that do this competitively, and his owner used to train dogs to elite levels of competition. He now no longer does this for reasons we will get into in a moment, but suffice to say this dog started with higher expectations. He's not a Labrador he's a Chesapeake, a breed known for their intelligence but somewhere along the line something went fucking wrong.

The dog cannot retrieve. He doesn't know how. Its not instinctual and he refuses to learn. We have tried. People can't teach him, dogs can't teach him. He won't fetch a stick, or a dog toy or a training bumper or anything else you throw for him.

The dog is gunshy. He panics at the sound of a shot. Sometimes he forgets he's gunshy and there's a solid thirty seconds between the shot and when he decides to lose his shit.

The dog cannot sit quietly. If he is not the center of attention he makes sounds I have not heard from any other organic creature. Is is a squeaky hinge, a far off engine, something stuck in the garbage disposal? No, it's the dog, steadily getting louder because no one has looked at him in the last 2 minutes.

So yeah, arguably the worst possible example of a retriever. He's pretty, he's friendly, he's a good dog and a wonderful pet, just never expect him to do anything useful. Currently his primary function is vacuuming up toddler meals from underneath a highchair so he's happy.

But there's another peculiarity about this damn dog.

He has an engine fetish. A fixation, an obsession, whatever you care to call it. This animal's one true goal in life is to meld his skull to an engine plate and crack off all of his teeth on a spinning flywheel. Yes, some of this is learned behavior because he knows that when an engine starts up his people are off to go do things, fun things, and if he makes himself annoying enough he'll get to go with us. But that only accounts for about a third of how fucking bonkers this dog gets around internal combustion.

Fire up a snowmachine? His head is between the skis and he's doing his best to get inside the cowling. He has chiped his teeth trying to chew on a moving dirt bike tire. He has been run over multiple times, by multiple different machines. There is nothing you can do to dissuade this dog from hauling ass after a four wheeler. His mania is limited to small engines because if he was this stupid around cars he would have been roadkill years ago.

He's been to vets, he's been to experts. He has a wonderful doggy life with plenty of stimulus and affection and exercise and socialization. There's just something wrong with him.

So this is the animal we brought to fish camp. He's having the time of his life because he's surrounded by strangers who would love to pet him and stinky fish smells. Our camp has plenty of people so someone always has his leash to walk him around and he doesn't need to stay in his kennel. There are lots of other families here and a good number of them have wheelers for hauling people and nets and fish up and down the beach, but as long as he has a firm hand on his collar he is at least smart enough not to chase strangers wheelers. He can behave. He just loses his damn mind when it's a machine he recognizes.

We have a four wheeler with us, Adak is insufferable and loudly announcing to the entire beach that he's being cruelly oppressed because he's not allowed to eat the engine, or make love to the engine, or have some long and tender yearning romance with the engine, I don't know what goes through that dogs head, all I know is that passersby are looking at me like I'm skining this animal alive because that's what it sounds like.

We also have a boat, a mid size inflatable with an outboard. Our group has six families and it does make sense to show up with everything but the kitchen sink. Harvest from the beach is perfectly fine but dipnetting from a boat is fun.

There is no way the dog is going on the boat. There are too many people, too many moving parts, some of those parts being live flailing fish, and the dog is not going on the boat. Everyone knows this, including the dog. Yes, he's got a thing about boats too.

So what happens is this.

I've got the dog leash. I've already been out on the boat and now I'm taking a break and getting a rest while someone else has a go. The four wheeler is at the head of the beach, after being used to launch the boat. I'm braced against the dog for when the wheeler starts up again and he inevitably lunges for it.

People are loading into the boat at the waterline. While the dog and I are up on the gravel of the beach, they are down in the indescribable glacial river mud, slick as soap and thick as cement.

My sister inlaw comes down the beach, phone for photo taking purposes in one hand, coffee cup in the other, toddler strapped to her chest. She hands me her coffee cup, to better situate her dozing baby.

I take a hand off the leash and accept the cup.

My beloved husband pull starts the engine.

On the boat.

In the water.

I am suddenly 15 feet further down the beach than I was, skidding through the mud, heels digging a trail behind me. It is worth mentioning at this point that I out weigh the dog by a slim margin of about 30lbs. I let go of the leash. I'm not going in that fucking river.

The dog is going in the river. At speed. He's gonna be the first dog to eat a running propeller. In a river.

(Some dogs are smart enough to be current savvy and not endanger themselves swimming in rough waters. Based on the information you know about this dog, what do you think the odds are that Adak is smart enough for that?)

Despite everything, this animal is a beloved family pet and we do not want to see him swept out to Hawaii or his face made into mincemeat. So now there are 2 adult men in chestwaders wrestling this suicidally stupid dog out of the water and away from the running engine. Oh wait, they were in the process of launching the boat into a stiff current. Now they have to pull the dog and the boat back up into the nightmarish morass of glacial mud, were I'm trying not to lose my boots in the calf deep mud so I can grab him again. Someone is shrieking to kill the engine, which is the most sensible course of action so off course no listens.

Thirty seconds ago my dad saw me telling Adak to stay out of the mud. He blinked and missed the initial drama so now he looks back down the beach to see me and my inlaws mudwrestling that same animal out of the water. He is a master of the "not my circus, not my monkeys" mentality, but he's thrilled to see the show. My sister inlaw came to take pictures and record the moment and she's doing just that, with glee and a sleeping baby.

I have the damn dog. I am back on solid footing. I am only mostly covered in mud. I have not dropped or spilled the coffee.

(Most amazing part of this story tbh,thrashed. The coffee never hit the ground, it was one of those nice insulated to-go cups but still)

The boat and it's fishermen are pulling away. I have given up on the leash and have the dog in an armbar around the belly with a fistful of scruff. He doesn't care. He wants so badly on that damn boat that he's fully committed his weight to his hind paws. If I let go of him right now he would biff it on the concrete pad of the boat launch before launching right back into the water. The four wheeler starts up. I do not outweigh the dog by alot but I now have lifted him bodily into the air with all feet off the ground while he squeals and thrashes.

The sound coming out of this animal is what I imagine a whale overdosing on cocaine would sound like. A weasel in a blender. A clowncar demolition derby. A millennia of tortured souls cursed to damnation possessing a kazoo played by a maniac elephant.

People are staring.

Theres a lot of profanity coming out of me. I feel it's pretty justified.

2 and a half minutes later, the boat is gone. The four wheeler is gone. Adak and his stupid doggy brain have calmed down and quit thrashing. He looks up at me with a completely empty skull and a the canine personification of 😄

I'm gonna skin him for mittens

#fish camp #storytelling #dog #Alaska

208 notes · View notes

wheelie-sick · 10 months ago

Text

What is Idiopathic Mast Cell Activation Syndrome?

Idiopathic Mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS) is one of several mast cell disorders. MCAS occurs when there are a normal number of mast cells in a person's body but they over-release mast cell mediators causing random allergic reactions in multiple systems of the body. MCAS is incredibly common being present in an estimated 17% of the population.

Symptoms

MCAS symptoms are incredibly varied and always occur in multiple systems of the body. Anaphylaxis is common.

[ID: A graphic labeled "Some common symptoms of Mast Cell Disease" A graphic of a person standing in the center with multiple organs visible is shown. Around the person are lines pointing to specific areas of the body labeled with the body system and symptoms. Clockwise these read "Neurological headache, brain fog, cognitive dysfunction, anxiety, depression Cutaneous (Skin) flushing of the face/neck/chest, hives, skin rashes, itching with or without rash Cardiovascular light-heartedness, syncope (fainting), rapid heart rate, chest pain, low blood pressure, high blood pressure at the start of a reaction, blood pressure instability Gynecological uterine cramps, bleeding Urinary bladder irritability, frequent voiding Systemic and/or organ specific Anaphylaxis angioedema (swelling) Skeletal bone/muscle pain, osteopenia, osteoporosis Gastrointestinal diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain, bloating, gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD) Ear/Nose/Throat/Respiratory nasal itching and congestion, throat itching and swelling, wheezing, shortness of breath and more" In the bottom left corner "Symptoms can be sudden and unpredictable in onset learn more at tmsforacure.org"]

MCAS symptoms are specifically not allergies. the reactions may look like allergies but the two are not the same and MCAS is not a condition meaning "many allergies" While MCAS can have some consistent triggers one of the defining features of the disease is that reactions are random and happen unpredictably.

Anaphylactic shock is not a requirement for diagnosis.

Diagnosis

MCAS is diagnosed by an immunologist. It is in part a diagnosis of exclusion and requires ruling out both allergies and systemic mastocytosis as well as other conditions such as certain types of tumors.

Diagnostic criteria for MCAS is debated. Some immunologists follow the symptom-based diagnosis approach in which case the diagnostic criteria are:

Recurring and severe anaphylactic-like episodes that involve more than one organ system

and

Positive response to mast cell stabilizing or mediator medications anaphylaxis-type symptoms

Others follow diagnostic criteria based on laboratory findings. In this case the diagnostic criteria are:

Episodic symptoms consistent with mast cell mediator release affecting two or more organ systems evidenced as follows:

Skin: urticaria, angioedema, flushing

Gastrointestinal: nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, abdominal cramping

Cardiovascular: hypotensive syncope or near syncope, tachycardia

Respiratory: wheezing

Naso-ocular: conjunctival injection, pruritus, nasal stuffiness

and

A decrease in the frequency or severity; or resolution of symptoms with anti-mediator therapy: H1 and H2 histamine receptor antagonists, anti-leukotriene medications (cysLT receptor blockers or 5-LO inhibitor), or mast cell stabilizers (cromolyn sodium)

and

Evidence of an elevation in a validated urinary or serum marker of mast cell activation: Documentation of elevation of the marker above the patient’s baseline during a symptomatic period on at least two occasions; or if baseline tryptase levels are persistently >15ng, documentation of elevation of the tryptase above baseline on one occasion. Total serum tryptase is recommended as the markers of choice; less specific (also from basophils) 24 hour urine histamine metabolites, or 11-beta-prostaglandin F2.

and

Primary (clonal) and secondary disorders of mast cell activation ruled out.

These are not all proposed diagnostic criteria as the subject is heavily debated. Generally, a laboratory-confirmed MCAS diagnosis is considered more legitimate.

Treatment

MCAS is a very treatable condition. Generally treatment follows a path from antihistamines -> mast cell mediators -> biologics.

Epipens are given to MCAS patients with a history of anaphylaxis.

Antihistamines are divided into 2 categories: H1 antagonists and H2 antagonists. These categories are determined based on the histamine receptor each one targets.

H1 antagonists mostly deal with systemic and cutaneous symptoms. H1 antagonists are also further divided into first and second generation antihistamines. first generation antihistamines include diphenhydramine (Benadryl) and Hydroxyzine. These tend to cause drowsiness. With second generation H1 antagonists cause fewer side effects and include drugs like loratadine (Claritin) and cetirizine (Zyrtec)

H2 antagonists primarily affect the gastrointestinal tract and include medications like famotidine (pepcid)

Typically when treating MCAS a person will be put on both a second generation H1 antagonist and an H2 antagonist.

When antihistamines do not treat symptoms well enough the next step is a mast cell mediator. The most common mast cell mediator is cromolyn sodium which is available by prescription only. (this is technically available OTC but it is at 1/50th the dose used for MCAS) Mast cell mediators work by preventing the degranulation of mast cells in the first place.

When both antihistamines and mast cell mediators are insufficient someone with MCAS might be prescribed a biologic such as Xolair to treat their remaining symptoms.

Sources:

American Academy of Allergy, Asthma, and Immunology

Mast Cell Hope

Mast Cell Activation Syndrome: Proposed Diagnostic Criteria

#mast cell activation syndrome #mcas #mast cell disease #mast cell activation disorder #mcad #chronic illness #chronically ill #physical disability #physically disabled

78 notes · View notes

lastoneout · 1 month ago

Text

Bird Flu Updates Nov 19th 2024

A bunch of updates and info got released today and I saw a lot of people catastrophizing about them on twitter so I figured I'd make a post compiling it all with links. I suggest you read all of these articles yourself rather than trusting me, but I will include what I consider to be the main takeaways from each. (You can use this site to get around any paywalls.)

The preliminary genetic sequence from the very specific version of H5N1 the teenage patient in BC is sick with shows a couple of mutations that could help it bind to the cells in the respiratory tract and thus make it easier for it to infect humans and/or potentially spread between us.

While that sounds really bad, the article makes it clear this is just two mutations we think will make humans more susceptible to it, we do not know for sure what the real-world implications of this are, and as of right now we continue to lack any proof that the virus has truly gone H2H.

It is entirely possible that these mutations took place over the course of the teenager's illness, and were not present before. This is concerning because it ofc reminds us how easily this virus can mutate and evolve, but also a bit of a blessing because no one else has become sick so these mutations clearly are not enough for H2H spread, and also that means it's very likely that with the right precautions this version will die out once the teenager recovers. And even if other people become infected as long as they isolate we can still corner and kill off this version of the virus.

However, it mutating in this way once proves it can absolutely happen again, and surveillance and sequencing are important to make sure we know as soon as possible if these or other mutations occur.

D1.1 is the clade of H5N1 that is spreading in the wild bird population in Canada, and also is the one 11 farm workers in Washington were infected with while euthanizing infected poultry. However, these versions do not show the concerning mutations, leading credence to the theory that they occurred in the teenage patient's body and only there.

Currently no one else in the area, including people who've had direct contact with the teenage patient, have tested positive for H5N1. Serology testing of the patient's direct contacts is underway to confirm or deny if another person did catch it but had a mild or asymptomatic infection, the results should be in later this week.

Professionals interviewed repeatedly stress that surveillance is key, and also that the US is currently doing a piss poor job of handling this situation.

More info on the same subject can be found in this STAT article.

Update on the Hawaii outbreak, "H5N1 Avian Influenza linked to Mililani Pet Fair"

The outbreak has been confirmed in a backyard flock in Central Oahu.

Several birds from this flock were present at the Mililani Pet Fair which took place on November 2nd, and while the birds did not develop symptoms until after, it's entirely possible they were contagious but asymptomatic at the fair and thus could have spread the virus to humans and other animals present.

Direct Quote: "However, out of caution, the DOH is urging attendees who handled the affected birds to watch for symptoms such as fever, cough, sore throat, and pink eye, which typically appear within two to five days of exposure, though in some cases symptoms may take up to 10 days to develop."

The article goes on to say that while they believe the risk of it spreading from these birds to any other animals or humans is low, basically anyone who touched a duck or goose while there and becomes ill needs to seek medical attention.

"Those affected are also encouraged to contact their primary care provider for evaluation and to notify the DOH Disease Reporting Line at 808-586-4586, available 24/7."

"For those wishing to report unusual illnesses in birds or animals, the HDOA’s Animal Industry Division is available at 808-483-7102 during business hours or 808-837-8092 after hours and on holidays"

(Sorry posting a lot of that as quotes because it's important.)

A child in California tested positive for H5N1 despite having no known contact with infected animals.

While the test did come back positive at the hospital, it was a very low viral load and they also tested positive for other respiratory viruses that could have caused the symptoms, so as of right now this is being treated as a possible infection, not a confirmed one. We won't know for sure until samples taken reach the CDC who has the ability to do more in-depth and accurate tests.

Because it was a low viral load it is highly unlikely that the child was contagious. They also only have mild symptoms and are recovering at home.

Close family has all been tested and none came back positive for H5N1, though a couple did have the same non-H5N1 respiratory illness the child did.

The child did attend daycare while symptomatic, and as a precautionary measure the California Department of Public Health is reaching out to everyone who was potentially exposed and their families to offer tests and preventative care.

This statement reiterates that the risk to the general population is still considered low, there is no evidence of H2H spread, all infections in the state have been mild and none required hospitalization, pasteurized milk is safe to drink, and that farm workers are urged to get the current seasonal flu shot.

Six new human infections, and one presumptive positive that is awaiting confirmation. (However this article is from yesterday, I believe one new case and one presumptive positive have been added in California today, Nov 19th. You can keep up with the numbers here.)

All mild, the California cases were all dairy workers, the Oregon one worked with poultry.

This is the first human case in Oregon.

Still no evidence of H2H spread.

21 of 28 monitored wastewater treatment plants have tested positive for H5N1, but experts believe that could be from unpasteurized milk, bird droppings, or contaminated animal products that were thrown out.

Risk to the public is still considered low.

Still no idea how the teenager in BC caught it, but apparently their family dog was dealing with a number of health issues and was euthanized around the same time the investigation began, and while the first test on the dog did not come back as positive for H5N1 they are going to perform a more detailed autopsy to make sure the dog wasn't the source.

Worth noting that this teenager lives in Fraser Valley, which, according to this article, has very high amounts of H5N1 in the environment.

Other Info:

This Newsweek article claims to have gained access to emails sent by Michigan health officials who theorize indoor cats are getting H5N1 from their humans, but not from the humans getting sick, just from them unknowingly picking up some of the virus on their clothes or shoes while outside and dragging it in with them, where their cats can be exposed.

This study using ferrets has interesting results on how previous infections with other, similar flu viruses might either offer more or possibly less protection from H5N1.

This article explains what mutations we would have to see in H5N1 for it to become transmissible between humans.

My Thoughts:

I still fully believe the experts when they say we do not have any proof of H2H spread of H5N1 at this time. The fact that we have yet to see contacts with sick people become sick themselves shows that we're still safe.

I think right now the best thing we can do is continue to minimize the chance that we ourselves become the mixing vessel that gives H5N1 those mutations. That means:

Avoiding interacting with wild animals and birds, especially ones that seem sick. Don't pet stray cats or dogs, don't play wildlife rehab in your backyard with a sick animal you found at the park, now is not the time for careless contact with something that could get you seriously sick. I would also avoid going to farms, fairs, or just interacting with any poultry or livestock if you aren't 100% sure the animal isn't sick, and if you do interact wear a mask at the very least. A farmer's market is probably fine, but I'd still wear a mask if I were you.

I would avoid cleaning up dead animals, especially birds, on your own unless you have absolutely no other choice. Look up if your local gov has a number to call for this sort of thing, and if they don't and you're on your own wear proper PPE(gloves, N95, long sleeves and pants, ect.) and wash up thoroughly afterwards.

Teach your kids to stay away from sick or dead animals, especially birds. Also don't let your pets near them, watch your dogs if they're in the yard or on walks, and I would seriously suggest keeping your cats indoors. (There have been 53 cases of H5N1 in domestic cats in the US, and only two of them were indoor only, the rest were either outdoor only or indoor/outdoor. Keeping them inside clearly drastically reduces the risk of your cat getting sick, and as far as I've seen H5N1 is almost 100% fatal in cats.)

Wearing a mask, any mask, when you go out. It's clear people are catching this from the environment, and on top of that we are going in to cold and flu season and I've heard reports of ERs being swamped by people sick with various respiratory viruses, so masking up is probably the best thing you can do to protect yourself and others.

On that same note, get your flu shot, covid booster, and if you qualify for them your RSV and pneumonia vaccine. Getting sick at all is not great atm, but if you do catch H5N1 you want to REALLY make sure you don't get something else at the same time, because that would give the virus everything it needs to mutate into something extremely dangerous.

Learn the symptoms of H5N1 and be on the look out for them. If you get sick with respiratory symptoms AND pink eye, especially if you did have contact with a bird or other wild animal, contact a doctor to get tested and treated, and isolate as best you can.

Continue to avoid raw milk. Drinking raw milk is the stupidest thing you could possibly do atm fr do not drink raw milk. I still think eggs and beef are safe, but if you want to be extra mega safe cook both all the way through to ensure any bits of virus are dead. Also wash your hands after handling eggs, even just in the shell. The outside of eggs can get pretty dirty.

Consider stocking up on masks and buying an air purifier, as well as maybe some cleaning supplies if you're concerned about dragging it into your house. Don't panic buy, but if you've been putting off buying any of this stuff I would go ahead and start doing so now.

If you have a mice problem and the means to do something about it, especially if you have a cat, now is the time to do something about it.

And of course, there are people being hella dramatic on twitter about this, so remember that it has not gone H2H and it is almost 100% certain that should that happen the Case Fatality Rate will NOT be 50%. As I said in my other post CFR is a constantly fluctuating variable based on how many people have already died, it is not the odds that any given person who gets it will die, and we are clearly missing cases that are so mild people don't even realize they're sick, so the CFR is absolutely lower than 50%. You should try to ignore people who make sweeping claims without sources, they're just trying to exploit your fear to farm for engagement. The best thing you can do is protect yourself so you do not become the mixing vessel this virus takes off in, which means masking and other common-sense precautions. Things aren't great atm, worry is warranted, but the world is not ending and panic is not helpful.

Stay safe out there o/

#bird flu #H5N1 #long post #current events

15 notes · View notes

musings-of-a-rose · 10 months ago

Text

Falling Slowly - Chapter 7

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 4000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This chapter is back to reader/Daisy’s pov

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Divider made by @benkeibear

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

<<;Chapter 6<<

Outbreak Day: Daisy

I snuggled into bed after tucking Jax in, fully intending on reading my book until Tommy came home. It shouldn’t be too much longer, depending on how well the Rivieras can hold their liquor. But after a couple of chapters, I was actively fighting on keeping my eyes open, a day of packing and chasing Jax around finally catching up to me. I set the book on my stomach, closing my eyes to just rest a moment…

A blood curdling scream from outside rips me from my sleep and I jerk myself awake, heart racing and frozen in place while I try to listen for more, my hand automatically feeling for Tommy in the bed next to me, but feeling cool sheets and no Tommy. In the distance, I can hear some light commotion but I can’t quite place it. I quickly get out of bed, grab the wireless phone off its stand on the side table and pop my head into Jax’s room, finding him still asleep. I dial Tommy quickly, but when I put the phone to my ear, all I hear is beeping. I hang up, putting the phone to my ear before dialing this time and hear the same sound. Which means the phones are down.

Fuck.

I head downstairs quietly, ears on full alert for the slightest sound or movement as I grab my cell phone and unplug the charger. It’s fully charged but it too has no signal. This is not good. Landlines and cell signals cut?

I move to the living room and switch on the tv, colored lines reflecting in my eyes as channel after channel alternates between colored lines and displaying the same emergency message:

NATIONAL ALERT

PRIMARY ENTRY POINT SYSTEM

ISSUED AN

EMERGENCY ACTION

NOTIFICATION

“...indoors. Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions….Stay indoors. Law enforcement-”

I switch off the tv, fully awake and alert now. What the fuck was going on? Are we being invaded? And where’s Tommy?

I hear more sounds outside, car doors slamming and helicopters moving about in the distance and it jerks me into gear. Tommy had taught me some basic things to do in case we had to get out fast, in case of an invasion or something else. I don’t know all of what he saw when he served overseas but he said it was good to always be prepared, just in case.

Thankfully, our bags were already packed, suitcases and backpacks against the hall wall waiting to be put into Tommy’s truck. I dashed into the kitchen and packed a bit more food than I had initially intended, tossing some extra filled water bottles into a tote and setting it down by the backpacks. I quickly went upstairs and changed into jeans and a shirt, grabbing one of Tommy’s flannels and sliding my arms into it, trying to at least get some comfort from his scent. Hair pulled back to keep it from my face, I lace up my shoes, trying to tell myself this would all be for nothing, that it was really a test and Tommy would be coming home any moment to tell me everything was fine. Another quick glance at Jax shows me he’s still asleep and I let him sleep for now. There’s not really a reason to wake him until I’m certain we have to move. I toss an extra outfit of jeans and a shirt in his backpack just in case he can’t change before we head out, an extra pair of shoes stuffed in a bag on top of his clothes.

It’s when I head downstairs to wait for Tommy that I hear it again, that scream that sets my entire body on high alert, nerves coursing at their full fight or flight.

I move to the front window and slide the curtain back just enough to peek outside, hearing crashing coming from next door. I can’t quite make it out, but it looks like Mr. Johnson is attacking Mrs. Johnson? No, that can’t be right. But then they move into the streetlight, Mrs. Johnson’s scream ringing out again and that’s definitely the one I heard and Mr. Johnson is definitely not behaving right.

Without thinking, I grab the baseball bat near the door and open it, stepping out into the yard and quickly sneak up on the couple, Mr. Johnson having pinned Mrs. Johnson to the ground. He’s hunched over her, an odd wheezing sound coming from him. He seems to sense me, his body stiffening and when his head turns towards me…what the fuck is that coming from his mouth? Before he can move I swing, my bat landing its target square in the face, Mr. Johnson flying back and laying still on the ground. Carefully, I walk over to them, glancing over at Mr. Johnson who’s face was definitely smashed in from my swing. Fuck, I didn’t mean to kill him!

But then I hear gurgling from Mrs. Johnson and I look down at her, seeing the exact moment when the light leaves her eyes. She’s still for a moment, the sounds of car tires screeching and helicopters flying overhead getting a little louder. Then her body jerks inhumanely, and I back up quickly, gripping the bat tighter in my hand. As she sits up, she turns her head to me and I can see the same whatever the fuck coming out of her mouth just like Mr. Johnson and my entire body yells “JAX! GET JAX AND GO!”

So I do. I turn and run as fast as I can back to my house, hearing screeching and feet pounding the cement behind me, Mrs. Johnson chasing me back to the house. I try to slam the door closed but she’s there, bouncing off of it, scrambling to push it open and I don’t wait, running down the hall and throwing everything I can reach in her way, even chucking the bat at her head. It seems to slow her down just enough for me to take the stairs 3 at a time, launching myself into Jax’s room and slamming the door shut and locking it, putting my back against the door as Mrs. Johnson screeches and pounds at the door from the other side. Jax is sitting up in bed, wide eyed and afraid and it kills me I can’t move to him, to comfort him and shield him from whatever horror is happening.

“Hey buddy!” I’m struggling with the door but I have to get him safe.

“Mommy?”

“Listen, Jax. I need you to play a game for me, ok? I need you to get in your favorite hiding spot.”

“Mommy, who’s knocking on the door?”

I dig my heels into the floor, pushing my back harder against the door as Mrs. Johnson continues to pound into it.

“Don’t worry about that, little man. I need you to hide. Can you do that for me? Be silent and wait for me, daddy, or Uncle Joel to come get you. If you do, you win.”

He’s still scared but can sense my urgency and nods while hopping out of bed. “Ok, mommy. Hug first?”

Tears fall down my cheeks and I hope he can’t see them. “Not right now, bud. I really need you to hide and not come out for anything other than daddy or Uncle Joel. Can you do that now, please?”

He studies me for a moment before nodding. “Ok mommy.” He moves to his closet, getting inside and closing the door behind him. I hear him rummaging around, going deep into his favorite hiding place and I pray to whatever is listening that he will stay there, stay safe. Even if….even if I don’t come back.

“Ready bud?” A quiet, muffled “Yes” meets my ears and I choke back a sob. “Ok baby, remember to stay silent, ok? No matter what. Until Daddy or Uncle Joel comes for you. And remember…. I love you bud.”

“I love you too, mommy.”

The sob gets stuck in my throat as Mrs. Johnson heaves herself against the wood of the door. I take a deep breath and open the door, letting Mrs. Johnson clamber into the room, falling onto the floor with the force of her movements. While she’s trying to get up, I grab Jax’s Rangers bat from where it hangs on the wall, my eyes never leaving Mrs. Johnson as she growls and launches herself at me. I push her back with the bat but damn she’s strong, what I can only describe as tendrils coming from her open mouth as if they’re trying to reach out to me. I push her back and she stumbles, hitting the floor and I turn, running out of the door and making a lot of noise as I do. She follows me without hesitation, falling down the stairs but clambering up more quickly than someone her age should do. She chases me around the kitchen island and I pull out all the drawers, knocking everything off the counter onto the floor or at her as she runs after me, growling and screeching. I manage to make it past her and back out the front door, quickly glancing around before running to the backyard of our other neighbor’s house.

Mrs. Johnson bounces back up, running full out after me as I run through 2, 3, 4, 5 backyards, eventually spilling back out onto the street, other people now outside throwing things into cars. New screeches join the one coming from behind me and I run the opposite way down the street, making sure to stay out of the streetlights. I get behind a car and squat down, turning to look where I came from. Mrs. Johnson had chased me for another block down this street, but then a man emerged from the house across that street and she changed course, lunging after him as he screamed, sounds of a scuffle coming from inside his house.

I take a moment, my chest heaving, trying to catch my breath before glancing around. I’m about 3 blocks from our house and I have a choice to make: I can either take the streets, which will be brighter to see by but definitely have a higher chance of running into those…things. Or I can take the backyards, infinitely darker but less likely to run into whatever they are. I hope.

I decide on the latter, taking a couple of deep breaths before glancing around. Seeing no one paying me any mind, I run, back through a few backyards before reaching the end of my street. I turn to duck into the backyard but a movement catches my eye and I’m able to quickly turn as a man falls past me, growling, outstretched hands just barely missing me. I run again, in the opposite direction of my house, trying to keep him away from Jax at least, the man chasing me as I run down the street. The cramp in my side is making me slow, reverberating pain shooting out into the rest of my ribs and I know I can’t keep this up. I spot a semi-truck without its trailer and I head for it, getting a running leap and praying I make it. I manage to get high enough up on the front to pull myself up quickly, but then a hand shoots out and grabs my ankle. I quickly kick out, knocking the man in the face and he goes down, pulling me with him. My back hits the pavement and the air whooshes from my lungs, momentarily stunning me. My vision swims but then he’s on me, his face leaning towards mine, tendrils reaching for me and I put my arms out, and push against him, gluing my mouth shut as he pushes closer to me. Then my hands land on a rock and I grip it, slamming it into the side of his head. He slides off me sideways and I raise the rock again, sitting up and slamming it into his head over and over until he stops moving.

Fuck I hope this doesn’t infect via blood. I really, really hope it doesn’t.

I don’t have time to think about it, my sole focus on getting back to Jax and getting him safe. Even if that means I have to…get rid of myself.

I stand up, glancing around and figuring out where I am, silently moving back towards my house through the backyards, listening closely for any sounds of movement. Thank God I run into no one else, moving around the front of my house and heading inside. I really made a mess in here but hopefully that deters anyone else from coming in. Not that those things really care. I go upstairs and see Jax’s door still open from when Mrs. Johnson chased me out, what feels like days ago. But then I see Jax’s closet door cracked open and it definitely wasn’t open when I left.

“Jax? Jax, it’s Mommy

. Are you still there?” I open the door, holding my breath, tears silently flowing down my cheeks and burning my eyes, praying that I don’t find him here, hurt. But then…he’s not here. I look around the rest of his room. No Jax.

“Jax?” I yell out of his bedroom door, my voice echoing around the upstairs. Nothing. No noise, no movement. I check every room to be sure but find nothing. I’m freaking out, no idea if Tommy or Joel came back and got him or…or.

I can’t think about the or.

I stand in my destroyed kitchen, debating on what to do next, when my eyes land on the table, my backpack on it. Which is definitely not where I left it. I quickly walk over to it, shifting it slightly and that’s when I notice the piece of paper on it with his handwriting.

Tommy’s.

Hey Darlin’,

We’ve got Jax and Sarah. We’re heading to the cabin. We’ll meet you there.

Please be safe. I love you.

Tommy

I clutch the paper and hold it to my chest for several moments, allowing the tears to freely flow as I hold on to the hope that this letter brought me. He’s safe. Jax is safe with his dad. Joel and Sarah too. I wonder if they found Rose….

Snapping my eyes open, I shake my head to clear it of my emotions, carefully folding the note and sliding it into my pocket. I quickly run upstairs and pop into Jax’s room, quickly grabbing his favorite stuffed bunny from his bed where he laid unpacked and forgotten in the hustle to get to safety.

I toss the luggage into my trunk, grabbing my backpack last and tossing it into the passenger seat. I take one last quick glance around, grabbing some photos from the fridge before I manually open the garage door, hopping into the driver’s seat and locking the door and my clicking my seatbelt into place. At the end of my driveway I look back to my house, our house, and allow 1 tear to shed down my cheek as I pull away from the only house that had truly been my home.

I had to re-route myself several times trying to get to the back highway that would eventually lead to the cabin we’d purchased a year or so ago. It seems like a lifetime away with all that’s happened in the last few hours. I stop for no one, my only goal to make it to the cabin to my family. Then we can go from there.

Miraculously, I make it to the nearly hidden drive without a hitch, grateful Tommy had taken us on several back roads so I was more familiar with alternate routes. I hadn’t seen another car or person in at least 2 hours, but that was normal. Most people had closed up their cabins for season after Labor Day, and no one really went down this road aside from random homesteaders or a handful of farmers. I wonder if they’re ok.

I nearly miss the turnoff, stopping quickly and backing up a little to turn between the brush, branches, and twigs snapping at my car. I make the final curve and the cabin pops into view, looking exactly like it had when we left it last.

No lights. No truck.

No Tommy.

I turn off the car, staring at the cabin for several minutes, but nothing happens. No one is here. Or at least, no one noticed I am here. Or made a move about it. Well, there was only one thing to do. I took a deep breath and got out, moving around towards the trunk and getting out the crowbar stashed by the spare tire. I grip it and head towards the cabin, eyes scanning everything to sense movement. I quietly try to turn the handle on the front door, but it remains locked. Sliding the key from my pocket, hands shaking I push it into the lock, hearing the little click it makes as it opens the door. I push it open and stand back, just in case. But the house is still and silent as I poke my head around the corner. I move throughout the cabin, checking all of the rooms. No one is here and, by the looks of it, no one has been here since we were here last. He’s supposed to be here, with Jax, with Joel and Sarah and maybe Rose. Where are they?

The cabin is quiet, eerily silent and I try not to let panic envelop me. They could have had to reroute like me. Maybe they ran out of gas and have to go on foot? I didn’t pass anyone but they could be behind me. Or hiding from the main road. Because regular people were behaving almost worse than those things.

I jump into action, quickly unloading my car into the cabin and parking it in the garage. I take the outside broom, and the shotgun Tommy had kept here, and walk down to the end of the nearly hidden drive, sweeping the tire tracks from the drive. This will help to keep this place hidden, and it’s far enough away from the road that even if all the lights were on and it was dark outside, no one could see us tucked away in the trees. A couple hours later my tracks are hidden and I’ve checked the power grid how Tommy showed me, grateful as fuck to the Joneses for wanting a fully off the grid place and having most of that installed before they sold it to us for practically nothing. I leave the fancy electric metal window coverings on the windows, changing nothing of the cabin’s outward appearance. People were nuts and, as of this moment, I am a woman, completely alone in the middle of nowhere.

Alone.

Everything locked up and lights dimly on, I quickly take a shower and again, thank the Joneses mentally for the solar power they hooked up so I could take this shower and have some light. After, I unpacked our suitcases, hesitating over Jax’s clothes. He usually sleeps in the 3rd bedroom with Sarah. She was officially going to let him have the top bunk this weekend and he was so excited. I start to cry then, pulling out all of his tiny clothes and, instead, folding them and setting them on shelves in our closet. I can always move them into the spare room if he wants it. It’s when I reach Tommy’s suitcase, opening it and getting a whiff of his cologne, his scent permeating my brain that I lose it, officially. Grabbing a shirt of Jax’s and Tommy’s, I lay on the floor and cry, huge heaving sobs until I fall asleep there, clutching each of their shirts to my chest.

They don’t turn up the next day. Or the next. I try to keep myself busy so I pull out all of the bed sheets, fluff them out and put them on the beds. I dust, cleaning everything that was already clean. I take out all of the food I’d brought with me, along with some sustainable things we already had there and take stock. I do the same with the medicine cabinet and first aid kits. Hell, I even dig out the sewing kit and fix the tiny tear on the side of the couch. But by the end of that first week, I could no longer find anything to do inside, my nerves leaving me jumpy at every gust of the wind.

So I go outside. I check over the greenhouse and the root cellar, making note that the self watering system seems to have worked on most of the vegetable plants. Reading my gardening journal, I see that I should plant some things soon, so I pull out my little box of seeds and get to work, planting what needs done both in the greenhouse and the root cellar. This takes me nearly another full week, as I decided to clean it up a bit and reorganize things.

2 weeks and still nothing. No one.

I wasn’t running out of food per say, but I knew adding 5 more mouths to feed would bring us to the end of our stores pretty quick. So I tried my hand at fishing, which was not really my forte. I did manage to catch a couple, but I would need a lot more than a couple small/medium fish. Well, practice makes at least better, which is what I tell myself as I work at it for the next few days, eventually getting a little better and finding a better spot to fish from. I had found a homesteading book on the shelf that showed me how to prepare fish, so I followed that and froze a bunch, hoping this would at least help when they showed up.

I never strayed far from the cabin, afraid that if I did, they would show up and leave, assuming I wasn’t there. I didn’t want to miss them again and every time I thought about how I had missed them back in Austin, I wanted to cry and scream and throw things. I really wasn’t sure what to do other than what I was doing - preparing and waiting. I had no idea where they were, or if they were… no, they were alive. I could feel it. But even if I wanted to go find them, where would I start? The more I thought on this, the less I knew, driving every possible route in my head but nothing with a clear path to finding them.

5 weeks. Well, almost 5 weeks. Still alone.

His scent is fading from his clothes, the flannel I kept with me and hold at night barely smelling like him. I had put others in storage bags, hoping that I would only have to pull them out to give them to Jax and Tommy and not just so I could smell them and feel, just for a moment, like they are here.

I pull Tommy’s flannel top tighter around me, shifting the covers a little higher on my shoulders when I hear it - an engine.

I sit bolt upright, my ears straining to listen to what was obviously getting closer. I hadn’t heard anything since I came here, not even a truck passing on the road. I hop out of bed and quickly grab the shotgun, my heart racing along with my brain, the many possibilities of who is out there swirling around enough to drive me crazy. I shake my head a little and look out of the peep hole in the front door. A car pulls up slowly, not one I recognize. The sun was just rising, not enough light to see inside the vehicle. If it were bad people, surely they would’ve brought a truck? Maybe not. But then the side door opens, and a mop of black curls gets out of the backseat and my heart stops, breath seizing my lungs as the person straightens out, gripping a shotgun in his hands as he turns towards the cabin and a sob ripples through me as I rip open the door, standing there for a moment in utter shock as my eyes lay on him. My other half, the love of my life.

Tommy.

>>Chapter 8>>

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

#tommy miller #gabriel luna #The last of us #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x female reader #tommy miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfic #tlouff #the last of us fanfic #gabriel luna x reader #gabriel luna x you #gabriel luna characters character fanfic #gabriel luna character ff #gabriel luna character fanfiction

51 notes · View notes