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althea-and-alcestris · 19 days

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Infection Au

The results said the audience wants to hear my Infection Au so I shall deliver. (TW for blood, mentions of gore and su1cid3). I based this on the MLP Swamp Fever Au and the general Infection aus <3 Also this au includes a lot of ocs that belong to me and my friends

So the main plot is that a strange fungi was discovered on Sage Island that soon began to make people ill. At first everyone thought that it's just a regular magic fungi, however it quickly turned out to be an incorrect assumption. Those infected with the spores began to develop odd symptoms such as nosebleed, gums bleeding, bloodshot eyes, discoloration of fingers and soon the limbs as it spreads. By the ending stages of the infection, the patient will resemble more like a bleeding and decaying tree. The infection spreads through either bites or the spores of the fungi. Coming in contact with the infected without any safety gloves also results in infection. Those with high magic drive are able to remain sane for longer periods of time than those with lower or no magic drive at all.

It has been 4 weeks since the outbreak started. Idia and Ortho were able to leave Sage Island before STYX put the island on lockdown, sealing the dorm mirrors and the Dark Mirror so nobody can pass through. They're working on a cure. Meanwhile the ones stuck on Sage Island have started to adapt to the current situations, learning through several losses. Trein was one of the first victims of the outbreak, having been killed by the infected while trying to protect his students. Riddle, Vee, Marqu, Ellis, Mary, Fox and Jade have been terminated after they could no longer fight the infection and grew way too hostile. Cater, Dominico and Ace are injured from expeditions and attacks but uninfected. Azul and Leona are still under infection, Azul due to no access to any more human potions has returned to his merform and is now kept in a water tank until further notice. Leona is incredibly hostile and staff decided on termination. Trey, Lilia, Adamaris and Crowley are missing with no trace of where they could be. Malleus is infected but manages to maintain his sanity. Ruggie, Jack, Sebek, Alce, Thea, Allen, Deuce, Augustino, Chenfeng and Vargas are the ones on the expedition team who regularly leave campus (what has been turned into a main camp) to gather supplies, look for survivors, kill the wandering infected and clear areas. There are snipers (Thea and Allen), gatherers (Ruggie, Deuce, Augustino) and those who cover the team incase the infected are nearby (Sebek, Alce, Chenfeng). Jack and Vargas do most of the heavy lifting and Jack pulls the occasional carts with his UM. The ones in charge of terminating those who lose the battle with the infection inside NRC are Spider, Alce and Vargas. Vil is also infected but holds on, Rook wrote himself out of the expedition groups to stay with Vil while Epel along with Silver and Kalim are not allowed to join the expedition groups for their own reasons. Jamil stays with Kalim and Spider in NRC, Alto is in charge of the supplies that the expedition groups successfully gathered, Silver is distraught and anxious because of Lilia's absence which is why Sylas stay with him at all times. Floyd is his own person ever since Jade was put down and staff can't determine how much impact his brother's death had on him. He leaves a lot but never comes back infected. Ami and Crewel are the ones staying in NRC at all times to take care of the few children that were caught in the outbreak such as Karina and Eve. Sam is infected but resides in his shop while holding out.

As the story progresses, multiple of the canons and ocs fall. Cater dies to an infected wound, Leona is terminated, Thea asks to be put down by Sebek, Deuce is terminated by Alce due to the infection, Jamil is killed by the infected, Azul ends his own life by leaving the water tank in his merform, Alto is put down by Idia after infected severely, Vil is put down but he ends up killing Rook and Epel, Lilia is found dead, Spider is killed by the infected, Alce is killed by Allen who was infected, Allen ends his own life after realizing what he had done. Crowley is never found.

The last survivors end up being:

Ace, Trey (he is found), Ruggie, Jack, Floyd, Kalim, Idia, Ortho, Malleus, Silver, Sebek, Crewel, Sam, Vargas, Ami, Karina, Eve, Sylas and a couple more ocs.

It's a lot of angst and I know it's a bit jumbled right now but I'm in the making of the character files and I will post them one by one. If you have questions, you can ask away ^^

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yesimwriting · 1 year

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hello! I was hoping for a Joel miller imagine where the reader gets hit on in a bar when she’s dating Joel and he sees this and confronts the guy and hits him because he’s aggressive and is all protective over the reader!

I love your writing and this would be amazing thank you xx

A/n first joel request,, slay

update: watched the new episode, bill and frank, still crying

i feel like this gives post outbreak joel a little more bc of the physical protectiveness,, but i can't remember if there's much/any descriptions of like literal bars in the QZ,, i've only watched the show and i don't remember seeing details,, like ik there's alc/pills available, but actual bars??

idk it's possible i've missed it or forgot bc i have terrible memory

so enjoy my 'makeshift' bar concept as i try my best to deviate from canon as much as possible

not to shamelessly self promo,, but if you like this fic i have another joel fic with what i feel like is a more developed version of this dynamic (bc it’s longer and more internal monologue centered) here and i’m making a part 2 for it so if you like these vibes and want something similar, it’s there, it exists :)

----

You're staring again, and trying your hardest to convince yourself that you're not. It's more than pointless, it's bordering on ridiculous.

Joel Miller is not some fleeting crush that’d fit somebody in grade school better than it’d fit you. Not anymore. You know what you are. You've had a talk. The kind of talk that you didn't think existed anymore in this world.

It wasn't exactly the rom-com 'what are we', but after a man Joel was dealing with got a little too friendly, it led to an argument. One you didn't fully understand, especially since Tess practically lived by his side.

Don't pretend, you might come off as all innocent, but you're too smart to be that naive. Men like that only have one intention.

And that had rightfully infuriated you, because after weeks of lingering touches that could be justified with a few words but never were and all the goddamn looks, he had no right to lecture you about another man's intentions with you. His intentions don't matter because that has no affect on me and who I am. Why the fuck does it even matter?

Why does it matter? It had been this subtle scoff of a response that made you take a step back. That made your back brush against the wall of his apartment. Because I don't want other men like that lookin' at you, let alone speaking to you.

The world stopped spinning on its axis and all the air preparing to leave your lungs was trapped with no where to go. Too many implications. 'Other men like that', the inclusion of himself in men that had those intentions. Maybe even more importantly, the implication that he’s some sort of exception.

Even more deafening, your response: Well maybe I wouldn't speak to them if you didn't entertain ev--

The rest of your sentence, whatever it would have been, was lost to his mouth on yours. A snapping of tension that took its time fizzling down to something less consuming. Something that allowed you both to talk enough to make it clear that Joel was yours and you were his.

It wasn't a magical snapping into place like it might have been in a world without the outbreak. In some ways, it added a new layer of hesitance, and in other ways it propelled you forward. There are growing pains with anything new, and the whole relationship thing is definitely new to you. Especially in this world.

If only you could get past staring. Maybe after Joel secures the whiskey-bourbon-hybrid whatever they're passing as alcohol these days from a less than trustworthy trading contact, you'll get buzzed enough to graduate to handholding, or at the very least, you'll be able to do something besides sit there.

You're starting to feel insane. How is making out easier than the small things? Maybe the setting is more at fault here than you. In the outside world, any form of attachment could easily be twisted into weakness. It’s likely best that you keep some distance from Joel here, especially with the way other men keep looking over at the two of you.

It’s not like you’re never awkward about the little things when confined safely between the walls of Joel’s place, that’s slowly but surely starting to feel like it’s at least partially yours, as well. But the way you get in public is something else entirely. It’s probably for the best. There are already too many eyes on you.

Like the guy with red hair that glints oddly in the yellow light of the stranger’s building. He’s swaying slightly, a dark looking glass in his hand that he’s yet to release in the entire time you’ve been here. Every time one of his friends leaves him, his gaze returns to yours.

Your skin crawls each time, but you keep your expression as stoic as possible. Joel’s getting better at trusting you, better at letting you serve as a sort of backup in the way that Tess usually would. You know that if it came down to it, the man that keeps looking at you wouldn’t be an actual issue, and you know Tess wouldn’t let it get to her.

Ugh. Another thing you want to get yourself to stop doing. Comparison. It’s ugly and so insignificant. Tess didn’t exactly welcome you with open arms when you first showed up, but you get that. And eventually she warmed a little. You think she’d still trade you for a few ration cards, but she doesn’t hate you. She’s, at the very least, no longer skeptical of you. The other day you caught her hiding a smile over a joke you made.

But it’s hard not to compare. They were the closest thing either of them had to a support system for years before you showed up, and you know that they’ve been together casually. Always casual. Joel stressed that part, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy thing to know, especially now.

You bury the thoughts the way you often do and turn your attention back to Joel. Back to staring. At least you’re consistent.

A man peaks out of the closet that seems to be the source of all the alcohol. He gestures vaguely in your direction. “That’s us,” Joel says, voice flat, “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

Nodding as if to dismiss your own thoughts, you beg your mind to not create imaginary problems by reading into him telling you to stay. He’s walking a few feet away to get some boxes, it’s not the rejection insecurity is making it out to be. “I’ll hold down the fort, keep away trouble.”

Joel blinks, turning his head in your direction briefly. The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, which is more of a reaction than he likes to give when in these kinds of places. He shifts his hand casually, his fingers brushing against yours briefly as he stands. The gesture is small but immediately dislodges the lump in your chest.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” It’s little more than a whisper, but there’s something hidden beneath the roughness of his tone. A pinch of lighthearted humor that’s only visible to you.

It eases you even further. Joel turns away, moving behind the long table serving as a sort of bar counter. You tap your fingers against the surface without much thought, taking a second to absorb the easiness of it all. It’s rare that getting anything require so little. You don’t think anything’s ever come as easy as sitting on an uncomfortable bar stool.

“So...” You blink, posture straightening as your eyes flit to the source of the sound. “Guard dog finally left you alone, princess?”

Okay. Ew. Of course it’s the guy that’s been staring you down since you first sat down. You have to fight to not let your nose wrinkle. There’s no good in reacting, in escalating the situation. “Not a guard dog.”

You hope that it’ll be enough to show that you’re not interested. “Aw, not feelin’ too friendly, baby.” Ew. You’re torn between cussing him out or actually punching him. Neither is an actual option. Places like these are a minefield and you refuse to be the one to set off a series of explosions. “Maybe you’ll cheer up after a drink, could get you one.”

Turning your head, you take a breath before replying. “I have enough friends.” The stranger is clearly apart of a group. You don’t know if you could call them all friends, you’re not sure there’s enough casual trust in the world left for genuine friend groups. But they’re at least acquaintances, or work associates, or maybe they met here, equally inebriated enough to accept each other. It doesn’t matter, the point is they were chatting up a storm before he decided to wander over here and bother you. “And it looks like you do, too.”

“Fine,” he relents too quickly, “Let’s not be friends, then.” His hand shoots forward, landing firmly--and disgustingly--on your waist. “Let’s be something else.”

You’re unsure if you’re more repulsed by his hand on you or how terrible that line was. Your own hand clasps his, pushing and pulling in an attempt to create a space. He’s relentless, even when your nails start clawing at him. “If you want to keep your hand, I suggest getting off of me.”

He blinks at your threat and then grins, flashing a smile that’s missing teeth. And then he laughs. A cold chuckle that makes its way beneath your skin. “God, I like them feisty.”

Shoving your fingers under his, you manage to pry him off of you. Your foot moves, heels smashing into his toes as subtly as possible. “And I like them when they know how to fuck off.”

His smile broadens, a cynical undertone to the look that makes it worse than before. “Oh, darling,” his hand finds your arm, tugging you forward, “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Pay for what?” Relief washes through you before you’ve even fully registered the familiar, even timber of Joel’s voice. He’s speaking in a lower tone than usual, an icy rage that you can feel in your bones and it’s not even directed at you. “Touching what’s not yours, ‘cause you’re the only one doing that.”

There’s probably something you should say. A subtle warning to not go beyond scaring off the man that is clearly incapable of respecting a woman’s autonomy outside of another man’s claim over her. To not take it too far because it’s not worth it. Because you have it under control. Relatively.

Instead, you’re silent as the man releases you. He takes his time assessing Joel. The stranger is physically smaller and Joel does have that edge that only comes from someone that’s lost enough to be dangerous to anyone threatening what’s left.

The man holds his hands up in defense, his glass sitting precariously between his thumb and pointer finger. “Easy, man.” You don’t even have to look at Joel to know that that was the wrong thing to say. “I didn’t mean any harm, if you set the price right, I’d be--”

The rest of the proposition is taken care of by Joel’s fist connecting with the man’s jaw. You hear the audible crack before your mind can make the connection between Joel’s quick movement and the man’s silence.

Holy shit. Joel didn’t just throw a punch, he threw a punch meant to shatter bone. He barely glances at you, and you’re too focused on the fact that Joel’s standing there, completely fine like he didn’t exert enough force to knock over a grown man. You blink as Joel extends the arm he’s been using to hold the small case.

You’re too shocked to do more than take the box. The implication of why he’d hand you the box while still standing there doesn’t settle until Joel’s throwing another punch. Each hit is more committed than the last, even when the stranger’s knees give in and he collapses.

Yeah, there’s definitely something you should say. Now. Like right now. You’d never ask him to hit anybody once, let alone do whatever he’s doing now. But words like ‘stop’ and ‘okay, think he gets it’ all jam themselves so far down your throat, you wouldn’t be able to pry them out with a wrench.

All you can do is watch. It’s the kind of morbid fascination that reminds you of what it felt like to drive a little slower when passing a car wreck. You’re rooted in place by a realization that’s always been there at the back of your mind, an implied awareness. Joel’s more than just prone to violence when he needs to be. He’s angry.

It should scare you. Terrify you. Your stillness should be some byproduct of that. But it’s not. Joe’s not a danger to you, he’s a danger for you.

It’s a level of protectiveness you never thought you’d experience. Your chest feels warm. You hope you’re not messed up enough to consider this some grand display of love. However, there’s a vulnerability in the violence you can’t deny. You’re in a public place, the kind of morally questionable people that are far from above exploiting vulnerability. And yet here he is, announcing an undeniable attachment.

Joel finishes, chest heaving and hands still curled into fists. The low light makes the thin layer of sweat on his skin seem like he’s practically glowing. His knuckles are already evidently split and swirling in distinct shades of blue and red. You’re mesmerized.

“You can’t do that shit here.”

That’s it. The only reprimand. In the world of before, he would have gotten the cops called on him. He would have gone to jail.

Joel looks up, mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously close to fuck off. He then looks at you, gestures with a tilt of his head for you to follow, and walks forward.

You try not to think of what it must look like when you follow, quickening your steps to get closer to him after you’re out of focus. When you reach the door, Joel pulls it open with one hand and reaches for your fingers with the other.

----

The way your eyebrows draw together when you’re examining an injury is different than the way they pull together for anything else. It’s too focused to be concerned and too concerned to be focused.

Joel could stare at that expression for longer than he’d ever admit to. He could concentrate on that little line above your forehead and forget about everything else. “I’m fine,” he mutters, knowing that there’s no real point. You’ll do what you’re going to do when it comes to these kinds of things.

You nod absentmindedly, another small sign that you’re not as here as you normally odd. “It’d be awfully sad if you died of something as small as non-fungal infection.”

He swallows, minding that look behind your eye. Things are still normal, you’ve yet to show any sign of rejection. He kept your fingers locked practically the entire way here and you let him. Never pulled away.

It’s not like he needs to apologize. Joel did nothing wrong. He even gave you a minute to handle the situation, but the man was relentless. The kind of asshole that takes advantage of a world with little order to prey on women. Joel would do it again. And again. And again. There are no regrets there.

You’re not naive. You know what you signed up for when you accepted him. He’s never hid that from you. That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve always had a pension for forgiveness, a pinch of empathy the world hasn’t managed to snuff.

“You’re dramatic, anyone ever tell you that?”

A touch of a smile pulls on the corner of your mouth. “Hm. Think I’ve heard that once or twice from this one guy. Dark hair, dark eyes, cute, but not really my type.”

Joel smiles, a partial laugh escaping him. “Really?”

Turning over his hand with a gentleness he still finds difficult to understand, you press a quick kiss to his palm. You move back into your previous position so quickly it almost feels bashful. “I think you know the answer.” You flip his hand so that his knuckles face you again and go back to cleaning them. “You know, you didn’t have to...I wouldn’t have ever asked you to do that.”

Joel can’t help his partial smile at that. Like there was ever any doubt. “I know,” he manages, “You’re not that.”

It takes a second for you to understand what he’s implying. That you’re not like him. Yes, you get mad and you have nothing against putting people in their place, but you don’t like hurting people. Your lips part awkwardly, like you want to say he’s not that either, but you can’t. He just proved it to the both of you.

“Nothing wrong with being like that,” you say, all too casual, “So don’t say it like it’s this big thing.” There is no end to the level of understanding you offer him. He doesn’t deserve it, he never will. “And you’re not like that in the way you mean. That asshole was, you’re not.”

Joel lets out a low breath. Of course, even this you’d find a way to reframe. “You’d think so.”

“I’m right.” It’s a quick reply, and the exact kind of response he expected. “You’re not a shitty person just because you beat up some guy or any of the reasons you’re thinking. New world, new morals. Accept it.”

Your lips pull together into what’s almost a pout in your determination. Always so sure when it comes to him. “Mhm,” he breathes, watching your surprise at his compliancy. You know something’s coming, but not what. Your awareness does little to help you when Joel twists your hand in his pushes you back against the couch. “And what about you?”

He hasn’t grabbed your hands yet, but you stay still, eyes trained on him. “I am a lot meaner than you think I am.”

He tilts his head down to hide his amused expression. Your version of mean is fighting back. “You want to prove it?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fanfic #tlou show #tlou fluff

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k4katsujin · 4 months

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new year's hangover☆

lil drabble where you befriend ghost at the tf141 new year's party... what can possibly go wrong?

content: drunkness, socially anxious-ish reader, ghost being ghost, passing out and hickeys.

author's note: UHHH HAI IM BACK?!?!? icl im kinda hating myself because im posting a drabble instead of a full work.... am sorry.. mi bad mi bad... also im waiting for friday for new invincible content because the brainrot is REALLL

also pls pretend i posted this on new year's eve... HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YALL BTWWWWW

shotout to @unabashedcroissanttreefan bc i want to make her bitter /hj, and to @michelleart8 ! <3

anyway enjoy and pls reblog

wc: 1836

"will you be coming at the new year's party tonight?" price asked as he noticed you filling some paperwork in the common room.

"i dont think so" you sigh, "im not that much of a social person, and i still have a lot of paperwork to fill in,let alone medical files."

"are you sure?" price asked, worried you might overwork yourself, but then an idea suddenly came to his mind. "i heard the lieutenant will be there as well, rumors have it you have a crush on him, so it'd be a good opportunity to actually talk to him, instead of just- avoiding him like you do."

the thought of captain price having noticed you had a crush on ghost sent a bright blush to your cheeks, but you waved those thoughts away.

"even if he was here, that doesn't mean i stand a chance with him" you reply, losing focus on your paperwork, now that the lieutenant was mentioned. "we barely talk anyway, and he seems to hate me so..."

"he seems to hate everyone" price chuckled, "dont take it personally. did the fact that he will be there change your mind?"

"i dont know" you sigh, but your little smile was betraying you. "it will depend on whether i have finished filling those files. at what time will it start?"

"around 7!" price replied with a subtle smile, feeling like he convinced you to come. "oh,and, you can come in a casual outfit, no need to pull up the formal uniform", he winked and left.

the few hours that separated you from the awaited party came, and all of a sudden a sudden peak of anxiety invaded you.

what if everyone made fun of your awful social skills? what if you didnt dress well enough?

your overthinking stopped as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket; surprisingly enough, it was a text from price.

are you coming? ghost is here 👀

you chuckled as you put on a comfy sweater, and headed to the common room.

"you came!!" price greeted you, smiling brightly at you. "make yourself at ease, go get yourself something to drink, and who knows? maybe alcohol can help you make a move on our lovely lieutenant" he chuckled, before handing you a cup of alcohol.

"do you... want to get me drunk so i could get rid of my social anxiety?" you asked price, raising an eyebrow.

"maybe" he chuckled, already sounding drunk, "is it working?"

"not reall- ouch"

you blushed brightly as you noticed ghost was the one who stumbled into you.

"oi," he said, sounding slightly drunk as well, "im sorry. must've lost my balance, probably drank too much already. you're y/n, right?"

"y-yes," you nod, still not over the interaction, praying he didn't notice the bright blush on your cheeks, "why?"

"because..." he tries to articulate, and nearly fell on the floor, "ive been meaning to tell you... you're doing a great ass good job... dont let my mean words convince you otherwise, k?"

"oh-" you said, taken aback by this sudden demonstration of kindness, your heart melting. "thank you lieutenant..?"

the evening went on, until the cheerful "happy new year!!!" resonated in the walls of the tf141's buildings, everyone happy to finally greet the new year.

the party then came to an end, and so you decided to stay a little longer to help clean the room. once you got done, and got ready to head back to your quarters, you noticed an odd figure.

was ghost... asleep? he sure seemed to. he probably passed out due to all the alcohol he had drank, and you couldn't blame him.

that's how he somehow ended in your quarters - and if you were to be honest, carrying a man as massive as him was NOT an easy thing, but you somehow managed to. you tried your best to put him in a comfortable position on your couch, but bringing him here was already kind enough, wasn't it? so you just left him laying down on the floor, covering his massive frame with a blanket, and put a pillow under his head.

"this sure was a strange new year's day" you thought out loud, "happy new year lieutenant"

just in case something happened to ghost, you decided pull an all nighter (?), and you were right to, well at least, soft of.

in the middle of the night, ghost woke up, seemingly not over his hangover.

"i'll tell you what, y/n, ive always been in love with you." he mumbled, barely able to stand.

your heart dropped at this confession, but you had to stay lucid: he couldn't possibly mean it, it had to be the alcohol, right? that would make no sense if he was in love with you.

but you couldn't help to secretely wish what he was saying was true, after all you know the saying: drunk words are sober thoughts, and now you really hoped the saying was true there.

"lieutenant,you're drunk, you should go back to sle-"

he interrupted you by kissing you, first on the lips, and then moved on to your neck, leaving a little trail of hickeys here and there.

you gave in the kiss, you knew it was wrong, but it felt so good, but quickly waved those thoughts off: it was wrong in any way. he was your superior, and drunk, you couldn't abuse his drunken state like that.

but the feel of his lips on yours sure felt like heaven...

as if nothing happened, he smirked softly as he pulled out of the kiss, and resumed his peaceful slumber on your floor.

however, the next morning was nothing like that.

"looks like someone had fun last night" ghost grumbled as he noticed your many hickeys. "what the fuck am i doing here? and where even is here, and did you poison me? why is my head pounding?" he asked, back to his usual stern self, and you would actually be surprised if he didnt.

"youre in my quarters" you reply as you handed him a cup of anti hangover tea. "i brought you here because we were the only two remaining at the party, and you passed out. and hum... about the hickeys, how much do you remember from last night?" you ask as you look away, embarassed at the thought of last night's passionate kiss.

"i dont remember shit, why?" he asked, sounding more annoyed than mean.

"okay i..." (you sigh) "promise not to get mad at me if i tell you?" (he shakes his head, annoyed) "okay, so... you confessed yesterday." you blurt out, "but that is not all." (you gulp.) "we also kissed and... you gave me those hickeys."

"oh." he said blankly, and you could feel the blush in his voice, despite his mask.

"yeah.." you chuckled awkwardly, not daring to look at him, "but i have one question though. were you honest when you said you... 'always have been in love with me?"

your heartbeat quickened as you waited for his answer, but you had to know.

"would it be weird if i said yes..?" he asked, unable to look at your eyes, and your heart nearly missed a beat. "i mean, youre always doing what youre told to despite the fact that i treat you like shit and... i don't know, i guess that made me develop a kind of soft spot for you... do you happen to feel the same way..?" he asked, and you could feel the vulnerability in his voice.

"i- i think i do..?" you replied, both confused and relieved. "i mean, i always thought you hated me but.. this feels a bit rushed. can we do it again?"

"okay" he nodded, "how does 'hello, my name is simon riley, known as ghost, lieutenant from the task force 141, and i am in love with the wonderful y/n' sounds?" ghost chuckled with a soft smile, loving at you with loving eyes.

"much better" you reply with a soft smile, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, way better.

later on that day, when you and ghost headed to the briefing room hand in hand, price couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"see? seems like alcohol can do wonders" he whispered, and it made you let out a small chuckle as well.

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orangethreads · 6 days

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realistic modern au mota headcanons :

- brady would post bible verses on his insta story

- bucky and curt would do zyn

- douglass would be an elf bar fiend

- bubbles would drive a janky toyota corolla and be the groups dd

- rosie would never be allowed aux unless they’re smoking 🍃

- buck is the one who gets them alc because adults trust them

- croz would fail the sats because he forgot to turn the page

- alex would yell at them to shut up during study hangouts and kick them out (except bubbles) once a week

- ham would be a “where’s my hug at” kinda guy

- jack is the one calling the cops on their parties because he wants to sleep goddammit

- ev would smoke cigs but smack them if he saw them smoking

#mota #bubbles payne #hambone hamilton #harry crosby #john brady #rosie rosenthal #gale cleven #john egan #james douglass #everett blakely #jack kidd #curtis biddick #modern au #mota modern au

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boo8008 · 8 months

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Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 01: Quadriller

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Chapter Summery: Carmen arrives in New York, happy to get away from the disaster of one Berzatto Family Christmas. You and carmen however both seem to be too nervous to talk to each other…for now.

Quadriller (v.) to make criss-cross lines on the surface of food, as part of food presentation

Word Count: 2,821

My Notes bb: I’m sorry its so late tonight but I kept going down rabbit holes on information about actual food journalism and I also noticed I have a habit of explaining a lot and putting in random details that I think are important or cool but again this is my first Fanfiction I'm actually sharing so feedback is welcome. I will tell you now that nothing much happens this chapter save for reader and Carmy being introduced, but I do have a plan on that front its just again I'm overthinking stuff lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

2019 (January)

Carmen:

It was peaceful in the kitchen as Donna cooked over the stove, flipping pancakes and frying bacon as she smoked. Carmen, Natalie, and Mikey were sitting at the table as they all joked and talked about something or another. Donna placed the food on the table and they all dug in, each getting a small stack of pancakes and some bacon. Carmen was looking up at Mikey as he poured the syrup, laughing at whatever he was saying.

As he looked down he was confused, written in syrup, “Fuck You Carmen” was on top of the pancakes.

Carmen looked up feeling panicked, only to see the fork stuck atop the plate of cannoli. He looked around to see the far end of the table flipped over and a car that had crashed through the front room. Mikey was yelling at his mom and a horn was blaring, not loud enough to cover the infinite sounds of a million timers going off behind him, along with a smoke alarm. When he turned around to make them stop all he saw was black billowing smoke coming from the kitchen.

Carmen jumped back to reality as the stewardess lightly shook him. Almost as soon as the plane lifted off the tarmac at Chicago O’Hare International Airport he was out like a light. He spent every second sense Christmas Eve beyond stressed and anxious. He was thankful Michelle and Stevie had agreed to let him come stay with them in New York after the new year.

He hoped they hadn't changed their mind as he crossed into the baggage claim area, only to be greeted by Michelle and Stevie, who was holding a sign saying “BEAR-zatto” with a poorly done drawing of what Carmen thinks is a bear. He chuckled at the gaudy neon pink and glittery sign, happy they went so far as to let him come, let alone pick him up and make a sign.

“Oh there he is, Carmen!” Michelle called, waving him over after finally seeing him. “We were starting to think you bailed on us. How are you? How was your flight? Everything go okay?” She asked, now hugging him before pulling back to look at his face.

“Good, yea, fine, the flight was-the flight was good I slept through most of it,” Carmen said, still hazy with sleep as he rubbed the side of his face.

“Glad to hear it! Beats our flight back. It felt like it was just crying babies and turbulence; couldn't sleep once,” Stevie chimed in, pulling Carm into an awkward side hug thanks to the just-barely-too-big-to-be-comfortable sign and Carmen’s duffle bag and backpack. An affirmative ‘hm’ was all Carmen could manage, unsure how to respond. Lucky for him, Michelle loves to talk and knew how to keep the conversation going.

“So which of these bags is yours?” she asked as the carousel began spinning and (somewhat violently) ejecting bags. “And how do you like your sign? Stevie’s friend made it; she's kinda like his family's Richie but a bit more-”

“Normal?” Stevie finished.

“Exactly, yea, she thinks of that type of shit a lot,” Michelle continued. “She thought it would be a cute thing I guess, said something about how helpful it would be to find us sense we’d stick out and more welcoming than that one.” She gestured in the direction Carmy came from, where he passed a sign with standard corporate text that read ‘WELCOME TO NEW YORK’ and a flat drawing of the city.

Carm was only half listening as Michelle raved on about how the girl did cutesy homemade things all the time and began to ponder why with Stevie, the two knowing the chatter didn’t really interest Carmy as more than background noise. He was on the lookout for his bag which held his prized knifes and chefs whites, just about everything else fit in his beat up duffle and backpack. He would have preferred to keep them with him at all times in an airport just to know they didn't get ruined or damaged in anyway during their transport. But he could also understand why the TSA would say to not bring knifes on a crowded, compact tube that floats in the sky. As soon as he spotted the black metallic cased bag carmen stepped and forward and grabbed it, checking the lock on the side as he stood next to his cousin.

“Jesus Carmen what do you have in there, fucking launch codes?” Michelle asked, seeing the overprotective suitcase.

“My knifes,” was all Carmen mumbled in response hoping it would do. Michelle just shook her head while Stevie nodded, both in disbelief at how weird he was about his tools.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Michelle began, turning to lead the trio out to their car. “She's nice, and she's making us dinner tonight so don't be a dick. She's not a chef but god damn does she make a good baked chicken parm.”

You:

Waking up already today felt nervous. You only had work and dinner with Stevie and Michelle and whoever-the-fuck that you couldn’t remember the name of right now but the thought of work was mixing with it. Having to meet new people was one thing that you saw as dreadful and anxiety inducing; who else could you need to talk to outside of work besides Stevie and Michelle? And having to schedule and deal with interviews with busy high end chefs was another thing. A thing where the problem mostly came when you tried to get things explained in simpler terms than the hoity-toity French or Italian words they chose. Sure you knew what quadriller was but not everyone knew what it meant.

You could understand where they were coming from though in some cases. Mainly the Michelin star worthy ones who put so much pressure on themselves and the chefs under them to deliver perfection for an expensive dish made with the best ingredients. From what you could tell they mainly did it for the people that truly and deeply loved and enjoyed food and would save up to eat at such high end restaurants. It all led to them feeling drained at the end of the day, when the last thing they wanted to do was to explain something they knew so well they’d forgotten it was a name for something.

Luckily today all you had to do was schedule and write a few more paragraphs on your Top Food Trends of 2018 article for your editor to see. You were still working on it and it needed a better name but that wasn't a priority right now, it was mainly getting the bulk of it done and written in words that were more than bullet points and shortened words. And you got off early enough that you had time to run home and hop through the shower before headed to the grocery store on your way to Stevie and Michelle’s. It was the first meal for the new year of your bi-weekly dinners and you knew they probably didn't have much to cook with sense getting back from their Chicago Christmas Trip. Normally Michelle would have stories about someone named Donna doing something crazy and while it was a little funny, when you gave it a seconds thought it made you sad for her family and her that she ended up the way she did. It was something you gotten drunk and emotional talking about with her and she could see your point but that's as much as you could remember of that conversation, besides asking her what the fuck seven fishes had to do with Christmas.

You picked up all the ingredients you would need for chicken parmesan, garlic bread and a tub of gelato, Michelle always had some wine that would go perfectly with whatever pasta so you didn't worry about that. Hopefully the sign you made had gotten Michelle’s cousin’s attention and gotten them out of the airport in a timely manner before traffic hit so you could get a start on dinner as soon as you got there. They had given you a key a year ago so you could get in and start on dinner on days when they were running late, which was often, but you didn't mind as long as you got your fill on non-work related human interaction for the next two weeks.

As you brought in your load of groceries, you saw you were right as far as the low-stocked kitchen. You connected to their bluetooth speakers and started a podcast you'd been meaning to catch up on and got to work. You'd comment on some parts to yourself and got lost in thought on the topic they were discussing and in no time you were putting almost everything in the oven, the bread could wait until 8 minuets before so it was al ready at the same time and the gelato was already in the freezer.

It all seemed perfectly timed as your podcast ended and you were about to start another episode as you heard the front door open.

“God it smells so good!” you could hear Michelle call from the front door. You heard Stevie talking to someone and the sound of suitcase wheels and baggage moving through the front door. Michelle rounded the corner still in her coat and pulled you into a hug. “How are you? How was your week?”

“Fine, not a lot happening in the office so…” you trailed off as you hugged her back. “Got off early enough to shower before I got here.” She pulled back, finally taking off her coat as she headed towards the wine cabinet and Stevie rounded the corner with a beat up duffle bag slung over his shoulder and the neon pink sign you made.

“Hey,” he greeted happily, followed by your name and as best a wave he could manage with a heavy duffle bag on him. “Let me put these down in the guest room and we’ll come actually say hi.” He jet pass the kitchen eager to get the bag off his shoulder and get his coat off and was quickly followed by the third person you still couldn't remember the name of. Cameron? Cory? Conner? Either way he gave you a vague nod of acknowledgement as he rushed pass you seemingly faster than Stevie. He had on a thick wool coat and a baseball cap, but besides that you didn't get a good look at him.

“So should we do the chianti or the pinot noir?” Michelle asked using her mocking tone on the fancy words, bringing your attention back to her as she held up the two bottles.

“Chianti,” you chose. “I like the label more, its prettier.”

“That's one way to choose wine.” she said. She came back over to your side and pulled out the bottle opener as you grabbed the glasses. “Also I'm apologizing now if Carmen’s an asshole about dinner but it runs in the family.”

“Its cool, can’t be worse than Stephen…or you.”

“Oh fuck off,” she said with a smile, pouring the wine. “Who was he again?”

“The guy who wanted to be a ‘chef’ and narrated the whole time I made dinner and couldn't tell me what was wrong with the food besides ‘you just didn't do it right’,” you mocked his dumb voice as you remembered the date. “I mean I know I’m no Gordon Ramsey but I know what I’m doing in general.”

“Right that guy, Jesus your taste in people sucks,” she smiled as she slid the glass to you.

“Yea yea,” you said, taking a sip of your wine as you looked at the timer on the oven and went to put the bread in the oven. “I’d rather have actual input from someone than that shit though.”

“What shit?” Stevie asked walking back into the kitchen, finally relieved of the duffle.

“Vague shit,” Michelle said, vaguely.

“The best kind of shit,” Stevie pulled you into a hug as he finally said a proper hello to you. He turned some to the guy who entered earlier, Carmen you now knew. “This is Carmen, he's a chef, the one I was telling you about with the Noma and stuff.”

“Right, yea, hi,” you greeted, introducing yourself even though Stevie just did it for you, you'd cringe about it later. This is why you don't like meeting new people.

“Hi, your-your the journalist right?” Carmen stuck his hand out to shake yours, and now that he was right in front of you you got a good look at him. Crystalline blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that was all mess and curls, he looked tired and anxious. Even his clothing said so; a long sleeve white shirt pushed up to his elbows and jeans both of which seemed rumpled from the flight. You did take note of his tattoos, a snail on his forearm, and a Pyrex measuring cup with the world on the other, you saw on the hand shaking yours the SOU on his fingers.

“Yea food and stuff,” you said, bringing your attention back to his face. All around he was handsome but you could sense the same nerves you had on him. It was a relief when Stevie came back from putting his coat away asking how your Christmas was, saving you both from an awkward conversation.

“Not bad,” you responded. “My parents went to Arkansas for family or whatever and said their sending me some stuff and I got to buy myself a nice dress and no one bothered me over the holiday, an all round a success in my book.”

Just then the oven went off, and you took up Carmen's mumbled offer to get the heavier pan with the chicken and pasta while you grabbed the bread and plates, deciding to come back for the utensils and cheese. Michelle took charge of hers and Carmen's glasses sitting them across from each other as Stevie took his own and the bottle. You had to admit, it felt nice with everyone helping. You came back to the table before realizing you left you own glass, and that you would be sitting next to Carmen and would definitely need it to talk to the stranger.

Finally returning and looking to the table before sitting down you did one last check that everything was there; napkins, plates, forks all checked. The other three were already digging in as Michelle whispered something to carmen that sounded a lot like ‘don't be a dick’. You took one last second and turned on a relaxing playlist for the meal on a low volume and sat down.

“So,” you started. “How was your guys’s Christmas?”

“Shitty.”

“Awful.”

Stevie just frowned and shook his head in response as the other two responded in unison.

“That bad, huh?” you asked, finally serving yourself. Michelle avoided by chugging her wine and Carmen did the same by stuffing his mouth.

“I think its better if we don't talk about it,” Stevie said breaking the silence.

The rest of the meal passed well enough though and everyone seemed to like the gelato with the meal. Carmen didn't talk much, too stuck in his own head thinking about how he had to start looking for a job ASAP. What didn't help were the thoughts of how pretty you looked when he walked in, and especially now that he was closer seated next to you. Your hair and dress styled perfectly with some better suited shoes for the slippery winter weather outside. He quickly talked himself out of pursuing anything with you though, having the small bit of sense to not bring you into his fucked up personal life full of anxiety and stress and pepto. He didn't even know what to say to you now. How would he know what to say on a date? He knew you knew something about food but wasn't sure what exactly it was you knew. What if it was just something to pay the bills and you didn't actually like being a journalist on food? There were too many unknowns for him to be comfortable with anything other than small agreements and answers that were as short as possible whenever he was asked something, and he noticed you doing the same thing.

You did your best to not be awkward with Carmen but you both had a wall put up to keep the newcomer out. If it weren't for Stevie and Michelle talking about their plane rides and new years eve stories your pretty sure it would be silent between the two of you. They tried to get you both involved but it was clear enough that wasn't going to happen… not tonight at least.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white

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lupismaris · 16 days

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Reporting live from the eve of Ruggerfest 2024 in Reston VA this fuck is running on fuuumes baybeeee

Your Feral Flamingos take the field tomorrow at 12:30pm 9:00am 10:45am against Hofstra, with two more games promised and the potential of one more on Sunday if we perform well.

We arrived later than planned due to traffic and logistical mismanagement on my part (re time blindness) so it's five guys and some the bulk pack of stella liberté I picked up to sneak into the socials tomorrow (since the brewery has no non alc options whatsoever)

Standby for two days of more or less straight rugger mayhem.

tag will be #james does ruggerfest if you'd rather miss out.

Oh and the theme this year is

#james does ruggerfest #also be prepared for panboleyn jumpscares cause she's with meeeee ❤️

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coldcrypt · 11 months

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I'm marco, 26yo cis guy from UK. I got into weight loss because I wanted motivation to stop drinking around april 2022, and ended up bingeing and purging on avg 3 times a week for abt 6 months. I relapsed back into daily drinking (litre+ of vodka a day) and detoxed in hospital at the start of the year, but have been finding it really difficult to stop and stay stopped, so I'm back here. I've nearly died so many times recently from drinking and I just keep gaining/getting more and more swelling &bloating. If any alcoholics/bulimics have advice for someone who cant stop shovelling it in to get a sustainable deficit, I'd appreciate it a lot. My goal is to be safe about it, but I'm open to anything that works.

I'm experimenting with different methods of weight loss, sometimes fasting, sometimes rezzing, but am very inconsistent. I binge v often. This is not so much an accountability blog, more like recording what I've learnt and just venting. My bmi starting around may20th was 22 ish, was 5th june 20, 4th oct 22.5,and now 20.5 jan27th. Have to get it back to 20, but goal would be 18 with low body fat %. My main goal is to stop drinking and get healthier (thinner).

To do list:

get compression sleeves for running

Things that worked:

going to meetings make it much easier to abstain and think abt other things than food -> much easier rezzing

being distracted by things unrelated to food

having good food options for rezzing prepped, like boiled eggs, or having a solid stock of staples like steak, yoghurt, fruit and veg

not buying food that I will binge on, if I buy it, even if its not for me, I will eat it and get fat

taking longer routes/walking instead of getting train (energy, weather and mood permitting)

peppermint tea

keep it in the day. One day at a time really works, it just takes practise to get into mentally

supporting blood sugar throughout the day, especially if going out/socialising/towards the end of the day (when alc cravings pick up). This is best done with small amounts of carbs following a rly high protein 1st meal

Things that I was doing before but that didn't work out well:

taking K supplements (just eat s. potato for carb allowance, is filling too and has loads of K, stops palpitations when intermittent fasting)

pho, miso or gochujang as soup bases. They are too salty and lead to painful sluggish bloat.

Oyster sauce is not worth the cals

Diet sodas. Caffeine dependence builds really quickly and teeth need help

olive oil for sautéing vegetables. Pointless cals. Fats can come from lean meats like beef steak, eggs and occasional avo as well as omega3 supplements

fasting. At 18 hours I feel like I'm goin mental and at 22+ the palpitations make it uncomfortable to move around or do anything at all

strength training (esp core) at home without equipment. Dont enjoy it at all, not motivated at all

watching hours and hours a day of ED documentaries, scrolling ED tumblr, and watching hours of foodtube every day. Obsession -> binges

hard avoiding carbs. Leads to massive brain rot and feeling morbid. Can't do anything. Inevitable binges, usually alcohol, or 4000 cal of food.

sushi is not really worth it. White sushi rice is too sugary. Its usually a carb craving in disguise, or something to get on the go and is expensive.

weighing every morning just lead to trying to use caffeine as lax and more chaos on energy levels, or obsessing and not being distracted.

Press ups make my joints click a lot. Planking is really boring and doesnt feel rewarding.

Using sex for stim instead of food and cooking

Curious about:

feta, olives and cherry tomatoes for satiety.

Broccoli and mushrooms (annoying to prep or dont taste nice when boiled)

chicken sausages for cheap lean protein (think they can be a binge trigger or lead to mental scarcity feelings but not sure if worth)

ways to make cottage cheese not taste shit (cocoa powder is not cutting it)

cardio > strength training maybe. Runner's high > nothing from strength training (that I ever felt anyway).

Finding a way to enjoy strength training

yoga and stretching for stim

skipping breakfast has really mixed vibes. Can feel completely awful, but can also make rezzing much easier. Can also lead to binges in the evening (because there's unspent cals in the budget). Probably best to stick to eating breakfast but keeping it high protein and not eating right away when waking up.

Experiment with meds timings.

minced turkey or discount fish for lean protein variety

ways to make eating salad not miserable, cos it does work rly well for getting a deficit. (Maybe herbs and lemon and chickpeas? Make in bulk? Quinoa? Binge risk)

_____________

New plan from 4th Oct '23 can't be strict bc cant track exercise cals without a phone for looking at time spent walking and running so will need to do a gross-in instead of net- in quick basic (aspirational) plan:

1000 cal deficit/day for the next month -> 1500 gross in/day allowance

NO: baked beans, bone broth, oil, paté, pasta, alcohol, caffeine, quiche, cheese, instant snack food, pesto, chorizo, hummus, meal deal foods reason: too sugary or fatty for their worth in flavour. Cause binges every time when rezzing. Not filling enough. Caffeine leads to crashes and the pickmeup is usually food.

LESS: bread, onion, ketchup reason: can be useful carbs in a pinch, less likely to cause binges than above (because they are only accompanied with protein). Onion and ketchup help with mental scarcity and support good vibes

MORE: fruit, veg soup, sweet potato, tuna, s. noodles, fruit juice, avocado, egg, steak, quorn, butternut squash reason: sugar cravings need to be comboed with fibre addition, or fruit juice could be useful diluted for emergency alc cravings. Everything else is lean protein and should be frontloaded in the day. Sweet potato is there for potassium and low glycaemic index carbs. Avo and s. noodles are contentious bc of price and fat/nutritional value reasons

ALTERNATIVES TO EATING: gaming, reading, weighing, cleaning, brushing teeth, counting cals, weights, stretching, running, walking, meetings. mostly overeat because of boredom and to break monotony in free time or to stim. These are alternatives that work and also make rezzing easier in other ways.

#pinned

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