Hey guys this is part two of my run away Betty, bughead story. I’m just gonna call it runaway I think! Anyway! Enjoy this crazy little au!
Shaking the dirt off of her shorts, Betty popped up from her place behind the park bench, she was grateful it was the end of spring and summer was just around the corner.
The cool night air made it easier to sleep outside, and with her new job at pops she was sure she would be able to afford a place to stay in no time.
She showed up about 45 minutes early for her shift, throwing a wave at pops and heading for the bathroom. She put on the tiny yellow dress and apron, smiling at her reflection. It looked okay, a little big. She had gone weeks at a time without food and it showed. Not anymore though, she had a job and a plan.
She scrubbed herself clean with the little bar of bathroom soap and reached for her toothbrush and toothpaste in her backpack.
When she came out pops was sitting on a stool by the counter as he called her over
“You come on over here now darling, we have to have a talk.”
She tucked her fingers into her palms, oh god was she getting fired already? She knew she was a little dirty, but she really tried her best.
“Is everything okay?” She said in a shaky voice.
Slowly the older man slid a key towards her on the counter.
She just stared at it, what was this?
“Caught you sleeping at the park on my way home from closing up last night.”
Her heart instantly broke, he wouldn’t want some homeless runaway working in his diner, she just prayed he wouldn’t call the cops on her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I promise I’ll walk away right now and I won’t come back to this town, just please don’t tell the police.” She was pleading now.
“None of that now, this is a key to the upstairs of this here restaurant. When I first opened this place up I was like you, running from something too big for me to comprehend, I got the chance to have my dream, lived upstairs when I was getting her started, that was before I met my wife, lili. There’s a mattress up there, a shower. You can stay there until you get on your feet.”
She was staring at the key in his hand, eyes wide and tears forming.
“I.. I can’t accept this.. it’s really…I”
He shook his head
“Nonsense, you better get on up there before I change my mind.”
She looked at the key before lunging at him, squeezing him in a tight hug.
“Thank you, thank you so much.”
Then she was off sprinting up the stairs
There was a mattress, a closet, a shower, A sink , a fridge.
It was everything she never had and always wanted. Throwing her bag on the ground, she threw herself back on the matress, she closed her eyes and squealed into the pillow.
Sitting up she looked around, things were pretty okay.
After she got settled she headed back downstairs to start her shift.
Breakfast and lunch flew by and by the time she was done with her shift, most of the riverdale students were making their way into the diner.
Leaning against the counter, wiping her apron and talking to the other lunch time server, she didn’t recognize when a familiar group walked in.
Suddenly she was being tugged away from the counter by a familiar raven haired beauty.
“Betty! We looked for you all day in school, Jughead here nearly lost his mind trying to find you at lunch. You didn’t answer any of our texts.”
Looking down she pulled her cell phone out of her apron, sure enough there were over fifteen texts from Cheryl, Kevin and Veronica.
“I’m so sorry guys, I didn’t even have time to look at my phone!”
Her eyes locked on jughead and he was eyeing her uniform curiously, seemingly trying to figure out what was going on.
“You work here? Like actually work?” Cheryl asked the question everyone was wondering
“I do, every morning and afternoon 8-4! And as for school, you won’t see me around there. I don’t go to school.”
Everyone at the table seemed to be taken back
Archie scratched his neck
“But aren’t you like.. a kid?”
Kevin smacked his arm, glaring at him
“No Kevin, it’s totally fine, I get that this is a little confusing. To answer your question , I guess I am a kid, I’m sixteen, if I went to school I would be a sophomore just like you all.”
Cheryl nodded piecing it together
“So why aren’t you in school?”
“It’s a long story for another time, right now I’m totally in the mood for a vanilla milkshake, do you guys mind if I join you?”
“Girl you read my mind, come on you so need to tell me how you get your skin to be that perfect”
Everyone agreed before walking ahead to the counter to place their orders, leaving Jughead behind with Betty.
“You’re homeless.” He mumbled from beside her
She whipped her head towards him
“How do you know that, have you been following me, did someone send you!” She was paranoid now, digging her palms into her hands, her eyes jetting towards the door.
His eyes widened, before he placed a hand on her arm
“No! No.. I just I know what homeless looks like, I should’ve caught on yesterday when I saw you with that huge backpack, your life’s in their right?”
She calmed down, staring at the hand on her arm, wow he was warm and his hands were surprisingly rough against her smooth tan skin.
“I have a place to stay as of right now, it’s not so bad here. I’ve just gotta save a little bit of money. I have a job. Things are gonna be different.” She reassured herself more than him.
He smiled at her pushing a strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, behind her ear.
“Come on you must be exhausted, you just worked all day, I’ll buy you that milkshake, I have a running tab at pops. Wait til you see me devour a hamburger, some call it gross, I call it a skill.” He teased putting his arm out for her to take.
She took his arm laughing, what a day.
The minute that blonde haired beauty was dragged over to him by Ronnie he knew.
He had been looking for her all over campus, she was nowhere, there weren’t any other schools on riverdale so where could she be?
After an unsuccessful day, his mood was sour and he considered just texting her, but after voicing his feelings to archie, the red headed boy told him to play it cool, she’d show up.
And show up, she did.
Wearing a pops uniform and the brightest smile he had ever seen.
He knew then that, no she wasn’t going to a different school, she wasn’t going to any school at all.
After a situation with his parents, Jughead had been homeless for a while, he knew what it was like having To provide for yourself and he had thought about dropping out multiple times, fortunately it never came down to that.
But he could spot her tired eyes and hungry frame from a mile away. What had happened to this gorgeous girl that brought her here?
He didn’t know for sure, but taking one look into those bright green eyes, he knew
Just a quick update from my first full day during my work trip to Birmingham Alabama. The first two pics were taken during a quick break from my all day meeting. The meeting has been going smoothly and once again I am being treated well by the many people I am meeting at the Birmingham office.
The last pic was taken at a place called Taco Mama where my team went for dinner. It was delicious and I loved my pomegranate margarita :) As you can see, I was wearing my rainbow heart necklace in honor of pride month. (Also the humidity had done a number on my hair)
I forgot to mention that yesterday while I was at the airport (in my flowered sun dress ..see earlier post) my team and I went to Chilis in the terminal. The bartender was a sweet guy who at one point said to me “here you go, young lady.” I wasn’t the one running the tab either so he was not just angling for a good tip. He is now my favorite new bartender :) Thanks Mike the Bartender, that made my day!
Our Choices - Chapter 1 - The First Christmas (Remus Lupin)
This is my first Harry Potter fic I’ve put on here, so I’d really appreciate any feedback y’all have, and don’t be afraid to like and reblog! Gif is not mine. You can also read this on FFN here :)
Word Count: 1,700
Warnings: Heavy themes, minor language, drinking, angst (It’s not a light story but it’s not unnecessarily graphic either)
Summary: This story starts in December 1981, a few months after James and Lily have been killed. The Order of the Phoenix is all but disbanded after Voldemort’s apparent downfall, and the Ministry is in the process of rounding up any remaining Death Eaters as the Wizarding community tries to rebuild and readjust to normal. But as for Remus, well…Remus is almost completely alone after losing his best friends–three dead, and one rotting in Azkaban because he betrayed them.
******If you want to really get a feel for the ambience of this chapter, play this in another tab (from the time I set the link to start at!) while you read******
The Leaky Cauldron Christmas Eve, 1981
Serpent Wine burned the back of Remus Lupin’s throat as he downed another glass in one gulp. He was past the point of registering the sting it caused in the stomach when ingested too quickly; all he cared about was reaching the bottom of the glass so he’d be one step closer to wiping another night from his memory. He’d thought about it before—Obliviating himself, pretending nothing had happened since Halloween—but he couldn’t muster the strength, so alcohol would have to do.
He waved his wand lazily in the direction of the bar to summon another bottle, but when he looked up he saw no wine floating towards him. He sighed; that would make it the fifth night in a row Tom the Bartender had cut him off before midnight, and on Christmas Eve no less. If he wasn’t careful, one of these nights he’d surely be caught for performing magic under the influence.
Remus sighed heavily and burped, grimacing at the leftover taste in his mouth. If he thought a full moon was nearly unbearable, it was nothing compared to this. The first holidays without James and Lily, without Peter, without Sirius…even without—Remus couldn’t even think the name, despite how only days ago he had begged Dumbledore to let him go visit, just for an hour or two, please, because it’s Christmas.
It was as if a whole part of him was missing without the people who made his life as close to normal as it could get for a lycanthrope, and almost as horrible as the pain was the apathy towards everything and everyone else that he knew was getting worse. He’d never understood how people could wind up in pubs in the middle of the day, running up their tabs, but he knew now. He’d become one of that crowd. Sitting there, drunk at his usual table and spending Christmas alone, Remus doubted he’d ever get out of this slump. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to, because that would mean facing the reality of what had happened to his best friends.
“May I sit down?” a voice asked. In his semi-stupor, Remus shrugged and gestured sloppily to the other side of the table, his eyes too bleary to see if there was even a chair there. “I thought I might find you here, Remus.”
Remus looked up to see none other than Albus Dumbledore sitting before him, dressed in Yuletide robes, a glass of eggnog in front of him. Remus’s first instinct was to get up and leave, but his feet seemed to have detached themselves from his body and were no longer obeying his brain’s (albeit impaired) commands.
“I quite like this drink. Muggles love it this time of year,” Dumbledore said cheerfully after a moment of pause. Remus glared across the table in disgust. How was he so jovial? “I understand why you’re angry with me, and I don’t deny that you have a right to be. But you do understand why I couldn’t let you go,” Dumbledore said cautiously. It wasn’t a question.
Remus’s face contorted in pain and he averted his eyes, feeling them start to brim with frustrated tears. “I just want to make sure he’s alright,” he finally choked out.
“I can assure you that Harry Potter is safe,” Dumbledore said calmly.
“You assured me James and Lily were safe, too!” Remus said angrily, a surge of courage coming to him. “How can I believe anything you say anymore?”
“What happened at Godric’s Hollow was a tragedy none of us could have foreseen. But Harry is with his aunt and uncle now, his only family—”
“So I don’t count as family, then?” Remus scowled and clenched his cup in his hand so hard he thought he might break it. “Lily’s sister all but disowned her, you know that! She used to cry about it to me, did you know that too? Of all the places to send their son—Muggles, no less—he’ll completely lost when it comes time for him to go to Hogwarts.”
“As he should be.” Dumbledore maintained his level tone despite Remus’s increasingly agitated one. “The front page of the paper is no place for a child to grow up.”
“And a Muggle neighborhood where he’ll have no idea where he came from is? The poor boy will never know his parents, Albus, and now you’re keeping his—our—whole world from him too! The truth will be more of a shock to him when he turns eleven than it would be if he grew up knowing it.”
Dumbledore looked at Remus with such a piercing stare that it sobered the younger man up considerably. “I have nothing but Harry’s best interests at heart. When the proper time comes, he’ll learn. Until then, I am confident he is in good care, away from all this.”
After a deep breath, Remus said more calmly, “I just want to see him, so he knows he’s, he’s got someone.”
Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at Remus with as close to a disapproving look as he could muster towards the young man who not long ago was one of the best students he’d ever seen. “You’re not stable, Remus—”
“Well, Harry and I’ll have that in common one day won’t we?! Living the way he prob’ly is with that lot, that’d fuck anyone up f—” he was starting to slur his words again, not even bothering to watch his language.
“—and what’s more, you have barely got the means to take care of yourself, let alone a child that is not yours.”
“I’m not asking to raise him!” Remus spluttered, “Just to see him, a few times a year! I’m the only person he might even recognize from before V—before they died. You’d think you could lift th’protective charms for me of all people, I’m his godfather!”
Dumbledore shook his head. “No, you are not.”
“W-well…I’m as good as! Seeing as the real one’s a damn traitor.” Remus spat on the floor and made a move to get up, but Dumbledore raised his hand slightly and Remus sat back down sulkily. Neither man said anything for a few moments. The sounds of the Leaky Cauldron that filled their lull in conversation—muffled laughter, the voices of carolers walking down the street outside, glasses clinking against each other in a toast to good tidings—seemed unusually loud and obnoxious to Remus.
“I did bring you this,” Dumbledore said finally, reaching into the depths of his emerald robes. “A Christmas gift, if you will.”
Remus scoffed. Dumbledore held out a small square envelope and nodded at Remus to take it. He did, and downed the very last drops of his wine before opening it. Inside was a small stack of photographs. He looked at them with a mixture of elation and terrible sadness. There was Lily’s hand at the edge of the frame, slowly rocking a tiny moving cradle with an even tinier baby Harry inside. One-year-old Harry on a toy broomstick, held up by what were unmistakably Peter’s thin hands as the pair zoomed around, James and Lily laughing as they held their fussing baby boy. Remus held back a sob; these couldn’t have been taken long ago. How had they had no idea that in such a short time they’d all be betrayed by their own friend?
“They were recovered in Godric’s Hollow in the days afterwards,” Dumbledore said, and Remus nodded, his throat too thick from holding back tears to say anything. He got to the last photograph, an unusually still shot of Harry in a larger crib next to another baby boy who had much chubbier cheeks. “I do keep in contact with Lily’s sister when necessary,” Dumbledore explained. The only thing that looked different about Harry himself was the jagged scar on his forehead.
“I know it’s not easy, Remus,” Dumbledore whispered. “But I promise you, Harry is exactly where he needs to be. So, I might add, is Sirius Black.”
Remus flipped through the photos again, furrowing his brow as Dumbledore’s last comment registered in his foggy mind. That seemed an odd thing to say. Of course Sirius was where he deserved to be, there was no doubt about that. He’d done something Remus would have sooner died than do: he sold James and Lily to Voldemort, and by extension betrayed and belittled everything the Order had ever worked towards. Not to mention at least a dozen people—and Merlin knows how many more—were dead because of him. How none of them ever saw it coming was a question that plagued Remus’s mind to no end.
“Thank you, sir,” Remus finally said with difficulty. “I owe you an—” He looked up to shake Dumbledore’s hand, but as swiftly as he had appeared, the man was already gone.
. .. … .. . And so begins my newest Harry Potter fic! Please let me know what you think, any feedback is more than welcome it make my Patronus stronger!
Follow if you want to be notified when the next chapter is up :)
Summary: Alpha! Sam and Omega! Reader as they are becoming parents for the first time. Uncle Dean and Cas are getting in on the excitement too. Men of Letters au.
Sam noticed the changes first, well, he likes to think that anyway. You were fully aware that you had missed a heat the first full month you spent at the bunker. The idea that Sam had succeeded in knocking you up on the first try was hard to grasp but it was a logical reason nonetheless. He was more than smug at the idea of you, HIS omega swelled up with HIS baby was such an ego boost. To his credit, he tried assuring you that maybe your heat was late because of your body adjusting to his constant presence, but that was just bullshit.
The fact of the matter remained, you had spent the past two months heatless and the past two weeks vomiting for an hour every morning. Sam was all too happy to hold your hair back as you wretched into the toilet, gagging each time. His strong hands would release your hair and slowly rub your back with a soft motion that made you realize how lucky you had gotten. After your daily bathroom escapade Sam would pick you up and carry you back to bed, nestling between your thighs, resting his chin on your stomach, his nose nuzzling up between your breasts. “Fuller.” He mused one morning. His lips ghosted over your growing breasts, flicking his tongue out to kitten lick them.
You both decided that keeping this to yourselves was the best thing to do for now. Sam had scheduled you an appointment at the only doctor’s office in town. The notion seemed normal to the rest of the town, you were new and needed to establish your roots. No one questioned when they saw an alpha like Sam taking his omega to the doctor’s, health was a priority for the alphas.
Fergus Crowley was an interesting character to say the least. He was crude yet charming, and his eyes seemed to twinkle with some sort of emotion that was between admiration and spite as he brought back the blood samples. “Well it appears we have a baby moose on the way.” His smirk shifted to a smile as he instructed you to lay back so he would run the ultra sound. “Eight weeks I’d say.”
Dr. Crowley was a good confidant, he sent you prenatal vitamins and books to help you and Sam throughout the first few weeks of your pregnancy. At his instruction you and Sam remained silent about your situation until you hit the twelve week mark. 3 months in and Crowley smiled during the ultrasound. “There’s the little moose.” He cooed showing you and Sam. “I assume you’re still living with your brother and that hippie of his, now would be safe to tell them. You’re out of the woods. The risk for a miscarriage has decreased enough that now is a good time to start letting everyone know.” As he helped wiped the gel from your stomach he paused, and grabbed Sam’s hand placing it on your skin. “Feel that? She’s firming up. You’ll be getting a bump here soon.”
Sam raced home, well as fast as he could go without feeling like he was going to hurt you or the baby. He carried you into the bunker, a wide spread smile on his face. “Cas! Dean!” He shouted into the library, wrapping his arms around you protectively.
Dean perked up from the box of archives he had been digging through with a quirked eyebrow. “What is it Sammy?”
Sam kissed your cheek and then looked up at him with glistening eyes. “Tell him, sugar.”
Drawing a shaky breath, you moved your hands to rest on your now firm stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
It resonated through the library, a smile slowly spreading up on Dean’s stoic face. His eyes warred slightly as he approached you, wrapping you up in a hug. “Whatever you need, all of you,” his eyes flickered to your belly, “"just ask and I’ll come running.”
And he was good to his word. So was Cas. Hell, everyone you or the Winchesters knew proved to be good to you. Ellen kept a tab running for Dean due to the sudden change in your senses. You despised the idea of beer, the smell made you nauseous and Ellen was lovely enough to let Dean go drink himself into the next week if he so desired.
As your bump started to develop, ever so slightly, Jo Harvelle and her lover/best friend Charlie Bradbury stopped by the bunker with enough leggings and oversized shirts to last you a lifetime. The bump, it turned out, was the most admired part of being pregnant.
Sam was a large man, and by default so was his son. Your baby bump was obvious, protruding from your body as you tried to go about your daily activities. Cas decided that it would be a good idea to start yoga. every morning at seven you, Sam, and Cas-Dean would have no part in such behavior- would go out and work through some easy poses while watching the sunrise.
Cas, as it turned out, was quite interested in your pregnancy. He bought books, read blogs, and grocery shopped for everything you could need. To his credit, he even installed the means necessary to raise bees because the local honey was better for your immune system and therefore the baby’s. If you were feeling angsty about everything he would come sweeping in with flowers and paint, ready to embrace your belly.
Sam was, no surprise, controlling st best over you. He monitored your health and expected you to follow the guidelines. You were a strong, capable young omega but you were now his. As his, he would fight hell or high water to keep you and your son safe. It was endearing at first, and who were you to complain about the way the people in town smiled as Sam kept an arm wrapped around your bump as you both strolled through the farmers market. That was cute. What wasn’t cute was the cut back on your diet. You were willing to make the typical prenatal sacrifices but Sam took it to a whole new level.
Dean had your back though. Always greeting you every morning with a “"hey there momma.” A wink, and then a peck on the forehead. To him, his nephew was the closest he could have to a child and he treasured you so much more because of that. His hands would often find your bump just to make sure they were okay. He loved to feel the littlest Winchester kick.
All three of the men you lived with and loved helped you along as your due date approached and the insecurities kicked in. Kisses and massages and endless cuddles surrounded you and your son. You belonged with them. They were your family now.
And as you cried Sam’s name in a panic, feeling a sharp pain in your lower abdamen you knew it would all be fine because it had been nine months since you last cut along the dotted line.
Summary: (Modern!AU) Army medic, Private L/N, gets deployed on her first tour of Afghanistan. Struggling to fit in with her new comrades and adapt to the world of war, Pte L/N finds herself befriending a local, and pushing the boundaries of army regulations.
Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes - Reader x OC
Warnings: war, angst, blood, gore, death, PTSD, terrorism, stereotypes, sexual indications, swearing, cockney, slow-burn, a little offensive maybe? (throughout series)
Key: Pte - Private. Cpl - Corporal. Sgt - Sergeant. Skrimmed - Tassels. PT - Physical Training. TAB - Run in full kit with weight and weapons. Doris - Woman/Girl
Word Count: 2,467
A/N: I hope this is good and easy to read. Please also remember this is my first time writing. Tags are at the bottom and I’m sorry there isn’t too much of Sgt Barnes in this, but he’ll be around more and more as time goes on! & Isn’t Wanda awesome!! Sorry if you find the soldiers nicknames weird, they are the actual names from the TV show.
Camp Bastion, Afghanistan. 4:30am
The journey to Afghanistan was drab.
Soldiers lined the cold aircraft walls; kit cluttered around their feet. Most were now either asleep or conversing with their comrades. Faces wrinkled in pure joy, despite the knowledge of what’s waiting on the other side.
Sleep seemed to evade you as your eyes wandered over the many faces littered within the shuttle. Not everyone here will make it home. Your chest tightened at the thought of losing a peer, especially one in your section. The five guys whose lives you’re responsible for saving.
Fingers, Mansfield, Dangleberries, Baz-vegas and Smurf. Your brothers in green.
To your left, Captain Rogers absently fiddled with his radio. His perfectly styled blonde hair no longer hidden under his navy beret.
Was this guy immune to hat hair?
You let your focus wander down from his hair, taking in his strong jaw, crystal blue eyes, and inhuman physique. Seriously, did they all look like this in America?
“Right. We’re thirty minutes outside Bastion, put on all protective clothing including helmets.” The Captain ordered.
Forcing yourself out of your trance, you began to attach your armor. A bullet-proof vest covered your torso while pads protected your knees and elbows. Hard-knuckled gloves shielded your hands as you strap your skrimmed-helmet under your chin and swung your duffel bag onto your back.
Nervous butterflies spew in your stomach when the plane begins to drop. Your fingers gripped tightly onto metal ridges of the bench as your eyes squeeze closed; trying desperately to free yourself from this new-found anxiety.
Until now you had been undoubtedly excited to get to Afghan. Excited to do your job and help the Afghan people dismantle the Taliban and regain their home.
However, at this moment, you’re terrified.
Sand bags and shipping containers made up the four-mile walls surrounding Camp Bastion, with the inside absolutely brimming with flat-pack tin buildings, tents, vehicles and large weaponry.
Marching with your section, you made your way over to a large, green tent. Perfectly lined up US soldiers stood straight just outside.
“Section halt! Right turn!” Captain Rogers commanded. You stomp your right foot closely to your left with your back straight. Sharply turning right and stomping again, your sections stood to attention alongside the US soldiers.
“Under five’s, Welcome to Afghanistan. This ugly bunch here,” He signaled towards the US soldiers. “like to call themselves The Avengers. ” You snorted at the name.
The Captain ignored your little disruption and began introducing his team. There was Sam - a gorgeous, dark-skinned, well-built man, with a gap tooth and killer smirk. Clint – A slim, dirty blonde with a face that said ‘I seriously couldn’t give a fuck’ and Tony – A cocksure engineer with ridiculously trimmed facial hair.
Within minutes, tears were streaming freely down your face. Sam was attempting to impersonate your South-Eastern accent causing you to double over laughing. You covered your face with both hands and attempt to hide the ugly-laugh-face you pulled when something really set you off.
Your laughter started to slow as you straightened up, only to notice the whole platoon was now braced and facing towards the front. Copying your comrades, you quickly stood-to-attention, facing forward.
Next to the Captain stood an equally beefy brunette. His dark hair was definitely longer than army regulation usually allowed; falling just below his ears. A few strands fell around his face as he ran his finger through the tousled locks. Dark stubble surrounded his pink lips and a long, straight nose stood proudly between two captivating blue eyes, that just so happened to be scowling at you through the bodies of your peers.
You were definitely sporting some serious heart eyes right now. How come the US got all the male models and the UK got a smurf and a knock-off Prince Harry?
Standing up straighter, you mumble a quick apology to the sour-faced brunette and averted your gaze to Captain Rogers.
“ This is Sergeant Barnes.” The Captain motioned Mr blue-eyes. “He will be leading you through your two-day simulation here in Bastion, as well as joining you on your first mission. Barnes here is on his fourth tour of Afghanistan, there’s no one I trust more than him.” He placed a firm hand on the Sergeants shoulder, smiling fondly in the process.
The sight of the smiling sergeant was enough to make you go weak in the knees. The way his eyes almost completely closed and his nose scrunched up above his wide toothy smile.
If you weren’t drooling before, you definitely are now.
After leaving the boys their tent to get situated, you found yourself wandering the sandy base trying to find the female quarters. Sergeant Barnes had made it abundantly clear you would not be bunking alongside your male associates. Instead, sending you out alone with a side-eye and a snide remark along the lines of ’ did you even pass geography in school?‘
Now both the Captain and the Sergeant seem to dislike you. All you did was giggle a little bit and try to lighten the heavy mood. Maybe these guys were just all work and no play, if so, you sure as hell weren’t going to get along. You were well known in training for being disobedient and a joker.
Footsteps were gaining behind you causing you to snap your head in their direction. Your dust-filled eyes found those of the only prick who could make your mood fifty percent better or one-hundred percent worse: Smurf.
“Barnes sent me to help you find your way. He thought our little Doris would get lost on her own.” He shook his head towards the floor, walking along side you.
“Why’d he send you? Sam said this is his second tour, surely he’d know exactly where they are.” you quipped.
“Because he loves me, everyone loves me. I’m the life and soul pal.”
“Oh fuck off Smurf.I don’t know if I can put up with six months of your bullshit..”
“Are you really that pissed off that Barnes likes me?”
”Well. maybe I don’t want that rude prick to like me!” You defended.
“ You know what Y/N, find your own way. Sergeant Barnes is a better person than you’ll ever be.” With that he stormed off in the direction he’d come from, once again leaving you to find your own way.
“Are you looking for the female quarters?” Voiced the petite brunette just a few steps ahead. You nodded at her question causing her to reach over and take one of your bags.
“ I’ll show you. Don’t worry about Smurf,” she assured as she led you into another large tent. “Dump your kit, the bed next to mine is free. I’m Wanda.” she outstretched her hand after dropping your bag on the empty bed. You shook her small hand briefly stating your name and a thank you.
“You know Smurf.” You asked as you put your kit under the bed.
“Not really, but I knew his twin brother, he was killed in Area Fifteen.”
“Barnes was his Sergeant too, that’s why Smurf won’t hear a bad word about him.”
“I just called him a rude prick.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Geraint was shot in the neck on patrol. Sergeant Barnes crawled about two hundred meters on his stomach to retrieve his body. He wasn’t leaving him as a trophy for the Taliban.” She smiled sympathetically. “He’d do the same for you.” She continued.
You widen your eyes as the words spill from Wanda’s mouth. Not for a second did you expect that to be the reason behind Smurfs sudden outburst.
”Let’s hope he doesn’t have too.” You mumbled. “He’s just come across so snotty and rude like I’m not good enough for his platoon.”
“It’s ok. He can come across that way sometimes, but he’s a good guy and an even better soldier.” She smiled reassuringly. “Why don’t we get dinner later, they have a pizza hut here?”
“That would be great, thanks, Wanda. Can I ask you one question?” She smiled and nodded to you, urging you to continue.
“ Does it always feel like you’re walking through treacle here?” At this Wanda let out a full belly laugh, throwing her head back nodding in the process.
“You did what!?” Wanda gasped, Staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“I gave a recruit a lap dance in basic.” You laughed, taking a bite of your greasy pizza, while she stared at you in bewilderment.
“Where? Why? H-how?” Holding your hands up in surrender, she paused with her questions and picked up her slice again; raising her eyebrows for you to explain.
“Well first off, it was a dare. We were going home for a long weekend the next day so we had a couple of games. I had let slip a few weeks before that I had taken a six-week lap dancing class, as part of a bridal party, so they just picked a guy and I gave him a lap-dance. It was either that or streak round the quarters.” you huffed a laugh as you recited the vivid memory. Basic training truly was the best time of your life.
Brushing your fingers over your trouser legs, you interlock your fingers and use them to rest your chin as you continued.
“ We went into the storage locker where they kept the rations and I gave him a lap dance. It was mortifying really. I couldn’t look him in the eye again.” Wanda was staring as if you had grown two heads.
She opened her mouth to speak when a loud alarm rang through the air. To you, it sounded like a nuke warning, but one look at Wanda and you knew that wasn’t the case.
She scrambled off the bench, quickly tossing the pizza in the bin a few feet away. Another woman ran up to her, rambling something you couldn’t make out.
“ Six injured, they’re bringing them in now. All medical personal report to the hospital.” She shouts to you as she begins to run backward.
“ You’re medical aren’t you?” you run towards the hospital, rounding onto the main dirt road within the camp. Your legs are burning as you run up behind the ambulance. Wanda jumps on the nearest stretcher, ready to wheel it into the hospital.
Your panicking eyes ghost over the quivering body that occupied the stretcher. A man, no older than twenty-five. The skin around his eyes was clean from tears when the rest of his body was covered in soot, dirt, and blood.
“Y/N! GET ON THE STRETCHER!” Wanda’s voice snapped through your trance, and look at her. You force your shaking hands to grasp the end of the stretcher and push it forward through the hospital doors.
Looking back over the crying male, you finally notice his injuries. Legs completely blown below the knees. Blood was oozing from around the shattered bones as bits of flesh hung on to the red wound by threads.
He’s not going to make it.
Pulling up to the bed, a team of surgeons moves in, sticking the soldier full of needles and IVs, preparing for theater. You take a step back as the room begins to spin. Adrenaline was pumping through you by the bucket load as more soldiers with similar injuries begin coming into the room.
You’re still stumbling backward as you hit the shoulder of another medic.
“Pull yourself together medic.”
You knotted your running shoes and straightened out your shorts and t-shirt. Sergeant Barnes had requested yesterday that your section do a PT session this morning to help your bodies acclimatize to the warmer conditions. By this morning he meant four-thirty am, and by PT he meant a tab which became apparent when you stepped outside the tent to find all nine men dressed in their full uniform.
“I suppose I should be glad you’re not wearing your stilettos,” Barnes mocked as the guys wolf-whistled. “It’s full kit L/N.”
“Yes, boss.” You replied as you ducked back into the tent to get changed.
Thirty minutes into the tab and you were breathing out of your arse. The images from the hospital kept you from sleep last night, every time you shut your eyes all you saw was blood, bones, and flesh. So not only did it feel as though you were inhaling golden syrup with every breath, you were a majorly sleep deprived.
You ran in the back. Sergeant Barnes ran ahead of the section, leading the way around his makeshift course. He doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat, let alone about to keel over like you.
“Is everyone acclimatizing to the conditions?” He yelled. His voice completely gasp free. A chorus of ‘yes’ or ‘boss’ was answered back, all coming out slightly breathy. “Alright, sprint the last fifty meters. GO!” They all took off running. Totally distancing themselves from you.
“Smurf! Drop to the floor!” following commands, Smurf hurriedly fell to the sand, laying flat on his back. Everyone stopped by him.
“ Medic! Man down! Left arm blown off above the elbow! What are you going to do?” The boss shouted at you, walking to you as you try to jog to Smurf without passing out. Slowing down, even more, you suppress the urge to vomit as you slowly squat before the 'injured’ soldier. Panting furiously, your shaking fingers fumbled with the tourniquet.
“ Come on medic! You gonna let him bleed out while you gasp for air like a puffer fish?!” You give the Sgt the angriest look you could muster while still gasping for air. Your fingers would not separate the Velcro tourniquet no matter how hard you tried.
“L/N! Come! On! This isn’t Call of Duty. If someone stands on an IUD, there’s a life to save!” Smurf was staring at you with a pitiful look, while the others looked terrified at the fact the person in charge of saving them, can’t open a bloody tourniquet.
“Smurf get up! Get yourselves showered!” Smurf jumped up and the section took off running again. You slowly stand, jogging after them with Barnes at your side. You were right. He hadn’t broken a sweat.
“He could’ve died just then L/N.” He was speaking quieter now, but you could still her the enmity in his tone. “Now please don’t tell me we’ve got the only medic who can’t stand the sight of blood.”
You didn’t answer. You just gave him a look that said 'please can you fuck yourself’ and carried on running. Barnes stayed running beside you for a few seconds more before sighing and running off to the showers.
One of the worst things about being autistic (or maybe non nuerotypical at all I dont know if it applys to other people) is when you get over stimulated. Its like….. The suns to bright, everything was painted brightly and neon, you have super smelling of things no one can smell but you, even the smallest of whispers feel like someone is screaming in your ear, everything you can touch is uncomfortable, even the vibrations from people talking or walking and honestly you feel like you’re dying and wish everything would just STOP but you have to go on in life and keep working even though you cant think of is the agonizing pain and its like you’re an overloaded computer about to crash and people are like “Oh, a few more programs and tabs running shouldn’t be to much of a problem” when you already have a million up to try to fix the problem of having TOO MUCH and they just add more
TL;DR getting over stimulated blows and is even worse when you have to act like everything’s normal even though you want to scream and cry and also not because to much is already going on without that negativity.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Dex mutters later, pointedly not looking up at Nursey as they wash pie plates side by side in the Haus kitchen.
He can feel Nursey’s bicep tense where it’s pressed up against his own, so casually and consistently of late that he barely notices anymore. And barely remembers to wonder if anyone else on the team notices either.
“Doesn’t change anything yet,” Nursey corrects, quiet but serious, and also not looking up from where he’s rinsing and then drying the sudsy dishware he gets handed.
“That’s making a hell of a lot of assumptions about a relationship we didn’t even know existed until an hour ago. What if they never come out publicly, huh? What if they’re happier–”
“Are you happier?” Nursey interrupts.
Dex swallows and stops scrubbing for a moment to just grip the edge of the Haus kitchen sink with his rubber gloved hands and breathe. “…We aren’t them,” he says at last.
Nursey snorts. “No shit.”
“What I’m saying is that even if they’re comfortable enough to– That doesn’t mean I– And what if I never–” Breathing suddenly becomes a little more difficult, but his whole body relaxes the moment Nursey places a comforting hand on his back. Despite the fact that said hand is sopping wet and quickly soaks through Dex’s shirt.
“Will,” Nursey whispers the word, but it feels just loud enough in Dex’s ears to drown out everything else. “Stop doing whatever fucking calculations you’re doing, alright? I’m not saying we should take a page from the Bitty and Jack book. What they do doesn’t have to mean anything for us, I just thought… I just thought it would help you feel safe. But if it doesn’t, and if nothing ever does, I don’t care, alright? I still got your back. Always.”
Dex swallows and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Got your back, too.”
“I know,” Nursey smirks, like he really is that easily confident of exactly how much Dex cares about him, and isn’t the unexpectedly self conscious mess underneath it all that Dex has just started to learn how to look for.
Dex plays along though, and shrugs Nursey’s hand away. “You owe me a dry shirt.”
“Put it on my tab.” Nursey winks.
Dex does indeed put it on his running mental tab. And then takes a wet sponge and squeezes it out onto Nursey’s shoulder.
This quickly devolves into a wrestling match that gets them both banned from the kitchen for the rest of the week. But as they jog back to their dorms, dripping wet and trying not to freeze, Nursey’s eyes twinkling in warm affection every time they land on Dex, it feels impossibly worth it. Whether anyone else knows about it or not.
Considering we’ve had a few instances to where Dispatcher (/join GuardDispatcher) has dissolved into mindless bantering, let this be a refresher on the rules for the Dispatcher Channel.
1] It is for official calls to the Stormwind City Guard, and the Stormwind City Guard only. It’s not to be used to yell at each other, it’s not to be used as a social channel, it’s not to be used as your personal dating service. It clogs chat windows and drowns out roleplay if it’s continuously spammed. Understand that not everyone has the luxury of running multiple tabs on their computer, be it for whatever reason. We reserve the right to remove someone causing repeated and extensive issues. ICly it’s explained as a signal scramble. OOCly it’s a kick. If you come into the Dispatcher again, and begin causing issue once more, you will be banned.
2] If you are found to be using the Guard Dispatch channel for sinister purposes, such as harassing the Guard, trolling the Guard, causing problems during incidents, trolling an incident in progress, you will be banned from the channel upon screenshots being provided that your behavior has been less than acceptable, and you are using it to disrupt roleplay and disrespect your fellow roleplayers. We reserve the right to remove someone causing repeated and extensive issues.
3] The Guard Dispatcher is required to follow ALL rules of TOS. If you post something sexually explicit, if you post something extensively gory, if you subject someone to something of vivid detail that can be considered explicit, mature content, or sexual in nature, you will be politely asked to refrain from using such speech in the dispatcher. If you do not comply to officers or the GM of the guard’s request, you will be removed.
We reserve the right to remove someone causing repeated and extensive issues.
This is not a Blizzard controlled channel. This is player created. We reserve the right to remove anyone for any reason if the guild officers feel that they will be causing a disruption. Whether it is because they are on the Guild’s Blacklist, or they are using it for less-than-reputable means. All we ask is that you respect the Guild, respect the RPers utilizing the chat channel, and use it for its intended purpose.
Summary: Reader and Jeff work a project and become fast friends. The project ends and they go their separate ways, neither forgetting the other. With Hollywood being a small community, you two bump into one another either at events or projects, but there is always something keeping you apart. Will the obstacles ever end?
Chapter 4 Summary: Hotel before the party and the party at a local bar. Warnings: language (probably), slow burn, angst A/N: I have a few ideas to continue this, but it’s still developing. Please leave comments or let me know if you want to be tagged, etc.
I’m a little stressed over this chapter, it gave me fits!
Being with Jeff didn’t make you nervous, it was the anticipation that made you nervous. The entire shoot, you’d had on ratty old jeans and t-shirts with your work boots, and your hair was always in a ponytail with your favorite hat. Tonight was a whole other side of you that you were going to show him. You were always more comfortable in jeans and a tee, but your life was about taking risks now, right? Moving to Hollywood was definitely a big risk and now you were going to your first-ever wrap-party. It didn’t matter much that you thought the final product would be shit, the point was, you’d worked your ass off every single day and you were proud of yourself.
Guys I’m gonna take a risk here. Please just take a moment. This is important.
As an artist, trying to be an artist for a living, this year has really scared me.
This time last year I had 500 followers. I am now 50 shy of 5000.
This time last year I was making 20 dollars a month.
Right now I make 32.
This is absolutely devastating. On average when I post commissions I will get 1000 hits on the post, and I’ll be lucky if I get a single commission.
Of all the people supporting me on Patreon, only one of you is actually from here on tumblr.
One in 5000.
To put things into perspective, if everyone one of you pledged a dollar a month I’d make over three times what I make at the day job I work that is slowly destroying me as a person. I could quit and become a full time artist tomorrow.
I’m devastated. I donate between 40 and 80 dollars a month to artists on Patreon, I literally make no profit after all the tabs run. Nothing.
I draw 40+ hours a week on average. A full time job.
Realizing my art and time are worthless is absolutely devastating because I want this to be my JOB. My full time position. My dream. Instead I make just enough money to make ends meet and I struggle along haplessly watching as no progress is made at all.
I’m so happy to have to all in my life, so please, PLEASE remember that artists on this site are often disregarded and devalued. Please don’t support this mindset that if you can’t get it from one person for free, there are others who will give it to you at zero charge. Please think of all of us who are trying to bring you this content that you get to view for free at the expense of our own pockets.
The cost of supplies. Sketchbooks, ink, computers, tablets, it all comes out of our own pockets.
At the end of this year I had made -1500 dollars. Deficit cost.
This is why so many artists my age vanish. We realize that we are chasing faeries, and at least flipping burgers pays the bills and feeds the mouths in our lives.
Please consider this and remember that art isn’t ever free. Someone has to pay for it, and most of the time it’s the one drawing.
Going out to a restaurant and being waited on, servers are paid 2.13 an hour (at least in Texas) and given voided checks. As in no money on their checks. This is because YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO TIP!!!!
Stop going out to eat if you cannot pay your server who waited on you. Servers are required to tip out (as in pay) bartenders and bus boys a total of 20-30% of their tips every night. So let’s say a server makes $100. 20-30 of that they have to give to another employee. So do not run up a tab of $100 on food and alcohol and not tip. Especially if they were courteous and attentive!
Serving is not just taking your order and putting it in the computer for your food to come out. There’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t see.
Thank you 😊
this turned out longer than I thought it would (7,690 words), so I cut it in half, but if you guys like it, please let me know and i’ll try to continue it!<3
The club isn’t that bad. Jason likes the songs that they’re playing.
The lights are too bright—and he knows later on, Leo’s gonna make a comment about how he acts like an old man. Jason doesn’t go out much. He’s partial to staying at his apartment in his sweats and reading a good book.
However, Piper asked him to be DD tonight, which is why he was willing to leave his comfy abode at one in the morning.
He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, pockets his keys, and waves at the club bouncer, Mike Kahale. Mike flashes him a small smile and nothing more. He doesn’t ask for Jason’s history—which is good. Jason doesn’t think he has the energy to chat.
Piper isn’t answering her phone, so he goes straight inside and towards the bar.
“Hey!” Percy says—while he makes a dozen drinks at once. He grins at Jason, suddenly ignoring the crowd of people sitting in front of him.
I doubt we're gonna see tay this fourth tbh. Def dont think we're gonna see her with jo. Only bc even tho there's nothing wrong w it, the only thing the tabs will run is how she's at her fourth party w a new guy third year running. Which will invite the whole serial dater stories and she clearly wants the focus to be on music not personal life esp since we all think she'll be rolling out music soon. I dont think this is when she's gonna let paps get pics of her rs. Sm post of her alien maybe
imo she’s not in the mood to be seen. hasnt been for some time. i think its less to do with the related-to-the-fourth headline possibility - they could have run with that headline or the serial dater one already, pic or no pic - and more to the fact that she doesnt want to give them any piece of her. The more they have, the less her life is hers. And i think last summer was really hurtful, May-Aug., and i think she doesnt want to put herself in the position right now to face that again. Do i think she will hide forever? no. But for now she seems content with it.
was due. For Logan, emotions ran high lately, and he fucking hated
that. The idea of fighting with Maggie was running coolly under his
skin. Watching Lukas fall for another person he deeply believed would
never care for him the way he deserved—maybe Logan was plagued by
the past. By the deep belief he held that people—be them any
specie, right down to a plain ol’ human—they wouldn’t change.
Everything was for gain. Now, that held true, as he entered
Purgatory. The music thudded so loudly, it drowned out his senses,
the raging thoughts in his mind, and the embedded need to ignore the
world. Which he would. Tonight, he would drink himself into a coma—or
spent the better part of a black American Express trying. Tossing it
down on the counter to the bartender to run his tab, as he ordered
himself a line of shots. He’d drink himself stupid. That had to be
the plan. And if that didn’t work—there was a basement full of
humans under purgatory willingly wanting to be fed from. Something
he’d give into too. How fucking ironic.
A/N: Written for Bev’s ( @chaos-and-the-calm67 ) birthday challenge. My prompts were bar and jukebox. This didn’t turn out at all like I expected or hoped but…here it is.
did this shit on purpose!” You screamed at your brother, shoving him in the
chest. “You invited our parents because you think I’m a fucking head case who
needs an intervention!”
didn’t…” Jared reached out, grabbing your hand. You yanked it back like you’d
fucking touch me, Jared!” You pulled away, grabbing your purse and keys,
stomping down the stairs. “You know I haven’t talked to them in weeks! Not
since mom called me a fuck up, again! I’m so sorry I’m not rich and famous like
what she meant and you know it!” Jared kept following you as you made your way
to the door, bypassing Gen and the boys. “Where are you going?”
snapped. “I’ll come back and get all my stuff later. I’ll be out of your hair
for good.” You spun on your heel and swung the door open, finding Jensen
standing there with his hand raised to knock. You rolled your eyes and blew
past him, your shoulder hitting him as you ran by.