#I stood there like a zombie and watched things drip for four-five hours a day and barely saw sunlight for a whole week

[radioactive-worm-on-string]

All I’m saying is that it’s tragic how very intelligent students are forced to drop out and made feel stupid because some professors feel the need to make their courses so intense that one needs to study 50-60 hours a week, while they just need rest to function, but would have no problem understanding the material if they just had to study 40 hours a week, the actual fucking guidelines for what full-time studies should be.

[osmw1]

Crowbar Nurse   Chapter 1 — Prologue: Travelling Between Worlds Because of my Phone is Normal, Right?

I am a nameless rookie nurse.

My hobby is clearing my mind with video games. In particular, mindless zombie shooters and dating sims that I can enjoy while yapping off with friends are my favorite genres.

… well, it’d be more accurate to say “was”. I ended up being employed by an awful hospital, even though I was super careful with my applications. But because of that, I don’t have any spare time to play my games. I was way above the legal overtime limit but yet, here I was working for free.

Let me go home already… I can’t think straight anymore…

I was tapping away at an outdated computer in the nurses’ station and doing today’s documentation.

The location is Shinjuku. The time, wee hours. A hellhole of a hospital ward with a window to the night outside. The nurses of this ward start their day way too early and end their nights dizzyingly late. Even when neglecting my hunger and hygiene, I can get only four, five hours of precious sleep a day. Such are my circumstances when working hours are this long.

I haven’t really done anything at all lately. I don’t have the time to game or hang out with my friends… the only thing I’ve done other than work is scrolling on my phone…

I silently sighed inside.

Society thinks us nurses to be huge flirts, headstrong, and highly paid. I’m sure there are some out there who are like that. … not me though. I’d say I’m the complete opposite of that.

When I was a teenager, I played games all day and cared too little about looking pretty, leading me straight down the path of being a loner. By the time I did care, I was a university student busy with studying and practicum. Outside of school, my girlfriends and I would be in stupidly high heels and partying like there was no tomorrow.

Though I like talking with people, I was always too timid for my own good. Not only did my seniors always yell at me, I also have literally zero experience in relationships. … I suppose faking it and going to clubs did get me attention from shallow guys, but the thing is that I have never been popular with the opposite sex. That’s why I can’t stand people who are blessed with confidence.

… I’m completely twisted. I know. I’ll probably end up in my thirties with everybody saying that my standards are too unrealistic and no one interested in me…

I sighed out loud this time. And as for the highly paid part? That’s probably not true for me as well. My take home pay is a little over 180,000 with more than 100 hours of unpaid overtime. Still, in this “Land of the Setting Sun”, that’s probably considered well-paid.

There are all sorts of nurses, y’know?

I’m neither well-paid nor well-versed in relationships. I’m just a sham who loves her zombies. I had once prided myself on my love for nursing, but the soul-sucking work as of late led to the flames of my passion burning out. I’m simply a lifeless drone.

Ughhh, I need to let loose and wipe out some zombies… I can’t stand working anymore…

Shoving those memories aside, I begrudgingly returned to recordkeeping. Now, let me describe what a day for a newbie nurse with no time for fun or zombies is like. After five hours of sleep, I wake up and head to my ward. I look up the details of the patients I’m in charge of on the piece of crap computer. Once that’s done, I make sure all the medicine and IV drips are good to go. After handing off things to the night shift, I begin making my rounds. There’s not even a moment spare to get water or go to the washroom. Even when working such a long shift, I say goodbye to lunch breaks if it gets busy. It doesn’t matter your level of seniority, you effectively get only five minutes. If it’s bad, it’s closer to 30 seconds… I fly into the break room, stuff my face with food, and eat it while walking back to the desk. Then, I get back to logging or preparing for the midday debriefing. I’m sure… I’m sure other places are like this too. In every hospital is a ward this depressing.

… oof. Crap. Nearly fell asleep there.

That moment of microsleep was most definitely because of sleep deprivation. The steady chime of the patient monitoring system and the clattering of keyboards from other nurses working overtime fill the room. I glanced at the watch I had stuffed in my pocket—12:30, later than usual.

It’s past midnight already, eh? Still, even when everybody lives around here, Shinjuku at night is still a little dangerous.

Even then, none of us dayshift nurses have gone home yet. That’s just how things work here. I casually looked up from my PC.

Colorful neon signs and lit offices contribute to the dazzling lights in the nightscape. It shone through the window across the hallway from the nurses’ station. Low-intensity aircraft warning lights dotted countless skyscrapers. The red lights on top of the buildings were like a constellation twinkling together. Its beauty never fails to take me out of reality.

 … though I may be sleepy, even at this hour, the streets were not. The lights revealed everybody who was still awake.

Until I started working, I never knew the nights of Shinjuku were created and supported by people like me—the slaves to society.

 People are used and discarded every day to maintain this beautiful dazzling world.

… and just as that thought floated across my mind, my view of the night sky worrisomely fluttered for a moment.

 Hmm…? That’s weird.

I couldn’t tell whether my vision was blurry or that my head wasn’t functioning properly. Though what was very clear was that I was far too tired. Then, I got lightheaded for a split second. As soon as it passed and I breathed a sigh of relief, I clutched my chest in pain.

 I’m going to die… oh yeah, I’m totally dying.

As my heart stabbed with every pulse, I took a deep breath only to find my head spinning again.

… frankly, I’m not doing so well.

This has been a frequent occurrence lately. I hold back the wave of nausea as I struggle to form sentences in my head… then suddenly, the exhausted head nurse rushed over to me in a panic.

“—the management is coming around! Hurry, hide yourself in the linen room!”

Once I realized the head nurse was shouting at me in a quiet voice, she stood me up by my shoulders. And before I knew it, she shoved me into the linen room at the far end of the nurses’ station and slammed the door shut.

… ah, not this again…

I subconsciously sighed. This happens every day in our ward. Basically, it’s to conceal the fact that us newcomers are forced to work overtime. If the head honchos of the nursing department find out, they would chew out the head nurse.

The directive of this sweatshop of a hospital is supposedly to eliminate overtime and, officially, newcomers aren’t forced to do so. That’s why when the head of the department swings by, us newcomers get spirited away.

That’s fine and all, but… damn it. The computers automatically logout after 10 minutes of inactivity, so there goes all my unsaved data…

Looks like I’ll have to redo everything, which means I’m stuck here until at least 1:00. I squatted down and subconsciously sighed again. Guess I don’t have much of a choice but to sleep until they come get me. As I shut my eyes close in exhaustion, I felt a strange vibration coming from my pocket.

 … huh? A notification? I thought I turned off my phone…

I doubted myself as I reached into my pocket. When I took a look at my phone, the screen was pitch black but oddly enough, some text was showing.

… hmm, what’s that? Is that English?

The excessive number of symbols made me question whether it was really English or not. It may have been pitch black, but it was just bright enough that I could tell the screen was on. That and the green text showing clued me in on that.

… what’s all this about? Did some super hacker breach my phone? Wait, are there people who hack smartphones in the first place?

I looked down at the screen in confusion… hmm? What? Hold on… The green text scrolled past at a blistering pace. The line practically disappears as soon I tried to read it!

 “… what?!”

I was fully awake when I reflexively cried out loud but was still too late to cover my mouth shut. The directors should have still been out there on their patrol. I hope they didn’t hear me.

Whaaaaaaat. Huh?! Augh! What’s going on?!

A scene of pure sci-fi unfolded in front of my very eyes. Talk about a complete one-eighty from my depressing daily life.

No, seriously, am I being hacked? Is this what it’s like? This looks more like magic to me though!

Unfortunately, a Neanderthal who can’t even do basic addition on Excel like me had no idea what was happening. I don’t get it… but I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

sudo…? apt-get install? Hey, hey, hey, hey! Don’t go installing anything weird on my phone without my permission! It’s now asking for a password… and it’s being filled in!

My eyes went wide as ••••• popped up in the password field.

But… I didn’t even do anything…

I was speechless. Then, while my jaw was still on the floor, the door violently swung open… as someone came barelling through.

■Protagonist

The protagonist is a super overworked rookie nurse who was on the verge of dying. Once you get her on the topic of zombie games, she'll yap on for even longer than the intro to The Final Countdown—though it's not an opportune moment right now.

contents: /ch001/ /next/

(leave me a tip on Patreon?)

[paperficwriter]

I Will Cover You

My first Dream Daddy fic. I am officially in Smallmarch (Robert Small/Damien Bloodmarch) hell. No regrets. And of course my first foray is angst and fluff. A killer combination. Robert tries his best to take care of Damien after surgery. 

Cut for length, not for content, though do be aware that this fic depicts post-top surgery.

---

“Oh. It’s you.”

“If I had a dollar for everytime someone answered a door and said that to my face...anyway, yes. It’s me. Where’s your dad?”

Robert wished for a second that his hands weren’t full, a loaded grocery bag in one and an unopened bottle in the other. Otherwise, he could have just pushed past Lucien and gotten into the house. Instead, he had to play this whole game of Purposeful Small Talk. Which he hated almost as much as Pointless Small Talk.

“Isn’t it Goth Night at Jim and Kim’s? Maybe you should try there.”

“The closest thing Jim and Kim’s has to ‘Goth Night’ is ‘Dark Sullen Drunk Night,’ and since I’m not there, that’s not happening. Move it.”

Lucien didn’t budge, instead raising a perfectly lined brow at the whiskey in Robert’s hand. “You do actually know that he can’t drink right now, right?”

He didn’t. “So? This is for me.”

“...”

“Look, Lucy. This can go one of two ways. You can move out of my way, or I can come back armed with a fully-loaded Betsy. Your call.”

“Did you just threaten my life so you can hang out with my dad?”

“Maybe.” Really, it was more a threat on his allergies, but...whatever it took.

Lucien smiled, and moved aside with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “Impressive. You may enter.”

Robert made a beeline straight for the master bedroom, ignoring the library and all the sitting rooms or parlors or whatever-the-hell-they-were. It was the one spot that Damien always skipped on the grand tours of the Bloodmarch Estate, but he knew that tonight that’s where he would find him. It was the one room that stood out from the Victorian macabre noir aesthetic of the rest of the house, bearing a resemblance more similar to the fake bedrooms at Ikea than anything from hundreds of years ago. When he shoved the door open, announcing, “Knock, knock,” Robert found Damien propped up on about five pillows, wearing a flannel robe, his long black hair a mess on top of his head. No makeup, no nail polish, nothing but normal. Robert couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen him like that.

“Robert?” Damien’s puffy, tired eyes widened, and he pulled the comforter up closer to his chin. “What are you doing here?”

“Giving the cryptids a night off from my regular slaughter schedule,” he said, sitting on the edge of the white down bedspread and dropping the bag and bottle. “I brought you some stuff.”

“You didn’t have to.” Even as he said it, Damien straightened a bit, glancing into the brown paper grocery bag.

“What kind of dick would I be if I didn’t? Your boyfriend gets surgery. You bring him shit to make him feel better. Isn’t that how it goes in all those movies you like so damn much?”

Damien chuckled and shook his head, reaching a pale hand out to squeeze Robert’s. He really did seem a bit out of it still, and Robert wondered why he hadn’t asked him to do the driving instead of Lucien. “I am eternally grateful.”

“You should be. No way would I watch that crap on my own.” He started unpacking with his free hand. “Let’s see...my favorite knife, a hot water bottle, basically the entire first aid section of the drug store...just in case those quacks didn’t give you enough stuff when you went home. Doctors just want to bleed you dry by making you come back for more. Don’t trust them.”

“They were very kind, Robert.”

He gestured ominously with the aforementioned blade. “They better have been. Or I’m going to be making a few more trips tonight before I go home.” Putting it on the nightstand to avoid any embarrassing holes in the sheets (again), he continued unloading. “Some of those Oreos you like…” Three packages, in fact. “Ought to keep you set at least through tomorrow.”

When he removed the next item, Damien let out what he would normally consider a “most undignified” squeak.

“Since I couldn’t bring her over, I figured I’d do the best I could with a surrogate Betsy.” He handed over the stuffed Boston terrier, and Damien pressed his face into it to hide the ridiculous red of his cheeks. “She sends lots of well-wishes though. Can’t wait for you to come over again.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Damien sniffed. “I shall treasure it always.”

“You better. I had to take out three toddlers just to get it. It was a bloodbath.”

“My hero.”

“And last thing...I figured I’d try to strike a compromise with a movie we could both enjoy. Pride and Prejudice --”

“Oh, Robert!” Damien’s smile was so radiant that it was even more amusing watching it fall when the DVD was handed over to him.

“-- And Zombies.”

“Oh.”

“Give it a chance! It’s a fun one. I promise. And I’ll keep the lights on. Fair?”

“Very. My deepest gratitude.”

Once Robert had loaded the movie onto the flatscreen mounted to the wall, he kicked his shoes off and laid back beside him, one arm around his shoulders. Damien carefully rested his head on his chest, holding the edge of his jacket while Robert smoothed down some of the loose strands of hair around the bun. “Is this okay?” he asked. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Damien shook his head, then nodded, reassuringly. “It’s fine. A bit sore. Another blessing of not living in the Victorian era is that there are much safer, not to mention effective, pain killers.” He sighed. “I must look a positive fright compared to how you normally see me.”

Robert shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m good. You’re not showing me up for once.”

He laughed at that.

“I wish you had told me when it was all going down, Dames. I would have been here sooner.”

Damien didn’t reply, instead holding his robe a bit tighter. “There was no need, Robert, dear. Lucien was more than happy to take the day away from school, and I didn’t even have to stay at the hospital or anything, so...I am only grateful you’re here now.”

Something in his voice didn’t make it seem like he was entirely grateful. Sure, happy enough, but…Robert let the topic drop.

After about a half hour, Damien stirred under his arm. Those pain killers must have really been something, because even with all the zombie-killing he had somehow managed to doze off. He pulled away carefully, standing up shakily to head toward the bathroom door only two feet away. When Robert jumped up, he waved him off. “I’m fine. I just...need to take some medicine and get the bandages changed.”

“Do you want some help?”

“No, thank you. I’ll only be a few moments.”

Robert didn’t sit back down. He found himself leaning against the wall next to the closed door, fists shoved into his pockets. His keen ears picked up every noise from inside: something wet being poured down the sink, the crinkle of the trash can, the tear of cardboard wrapping. Then, nothing.

“Damien? You okay in there?” he called after about thirty seconds, twenty-five seconds longer than he would have preferred.

No answer.

“Dames?”

A sniff, a slightly cracked, “I’m fine.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t. Really. Just...give me a minute.” Now, it was a full, obvious sob that followed, and Robert cringed.

“Listen. I may not have my boots on, but I'll...I would tear this door down with my bare hands for you. Let me in.”

“...You shouldn't have to see this.”

“Dames.” Robert tried to keep his voice from taking that jagged, unpleasant edge to it that seemed to cut through whenever he was frustrated. “Mary asked me to be in the delivery room when Crish was born. There is absolutely nothing that could be worse than that.”

He wasn’t sure why that seemed to be the deciding factor, but the knob turned, and Robert stepped inside carefully, trying not to stare. Damien sat on top of the closed toilet seat, tears pouring down his face, clean bandages balled up in his hand. The open flannel barely hid the thick, black stitches, angry red skin and bruising across his chest. “Come on, baby,” Robert said quietly, holding his hand out. “Let me help you with that.”

Damien didn’t move. “It’s awful. It’s...I’m…” Another broken noise cracked into the air between them, and Damien covered his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry...”

“What? Damien, don’t say that.”

“Is it ever going to heal?” he asked, a hard desperation in his voice, and Robert knelt in front of him, taking the bandages. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a great look, the T-shaped cuts scarring as they healed, but they weren’t infected. The doctors really had done a great job, as loathe as Robert was to admit it to himself.

“Of course it will. You just need some time. Give yourself a break. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Here, hold this.” Robert pressed one end of the roll at the center of Damien’s stomach and started wrapping, pausing occasionally to check to make sure they weren’t too tight. He winced when he jostled one of the drains that hung at Damien’s side. “Sorry. We’ll get you some more pills in a second, okay?”

“It looks so much worse than I thought it would…”

“It won’t stay like this.” Robert used his free hand to wipe Damien’s face with his knuckles. “Don’t cry. It’s fine. Really.”

“I just didn’t want you to see me this way.” Fresh tears dripped down, soaking the cuff of his sleeve.

“I don’t care how bad it is, Damien. Just let me help you. I don’t...God, you’ve seen me far and beyond my worst. This is nothing that won’t mend.” He finished wrapping the bandage and closed the flannel over it, finally raising his hands to touch his boyfriend’s face. “I don’t care if you wear capes or cloaks or fuckin’ jeans and a shirt, and I definitely don’t care what’s under it all. You could dress as one of those anime characters again, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Damien snorted, leaning forward to rest his face on Robert’s jacket.

“Just don’t leave me out of it. I’m not...great at this, but...I don’t want you alone. I got you, alright?”

He pressed his lips to both of his cheeks before kissing him softly, the wet on his face clinging to his stubble. When he pulled back, Damien smiled tiredly. “Thank you, love.”

Robert helped him to standing, guiding him back to the bed. “I think this calls for Oreos, whatever fancy drugs they gave you, and a drink.”

“I can’t drink right now, Robert,” Damien chided, holding his hand as he slipped back under the covers.

“Don’t worry. I can do plenty of drinking for both of us.” He raised the bottle and clinked it against Damien’s water glass. “To your speedy recovery, good sir.”

Damien only smirked at his theatric bravado. “Cheers.”

[daisy-chain-gardens]

Exchange Romance - Chapter 11

A/N: Hey guys, this chapter is really long but it’s full of lots of fluffy goodness so I real;y hope you like it. For some weird reason the link for chapter 10 isn’t working so please go and read it on AO3 if you haven’t already. Don’t forget to leave me a comment if you like it, they never fail to make my day :)

Word Count: 7,135 (yeah, sorry. I told you it was long.)

Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // >Ch. 4 // Ch. 5 // Ch. 6 // Ch. 7 // Ch. 8 // Ch. 9 // AO3 link

After the fortunate incident which was the Riverdale snowstorm, Archie and Veronica seemed to be everywhere. School work had died down a bit but sadly, so had football and cheerleading practices. The snow outside had started melting but it wasn’t quite warm enough to train on the field so both teams were forced to share the gym, cutting practices short left, right, and center. The couple thought this was a great thing because they got to spend more time with Betty and Jughead, the latter finding it not so great.

“Why can’t they just do that in private,” Jughead complained in Betty’s ear as they sat next to each other in a booth at Pop’s, Jughead’s look shooting daggers at his friends. They had only gotten there five minutes ago but Veronica and Archie were already making out, their milkshakes seemingly forgotten on the table in front of them.

“Be nice Juggie,” Betty said quietly as she turned to face him, scolding him teasingly.

“What’s in it for me?” Jughead lowered his voice, his words were still whispered but dripping with desire, making Betty’s heart pound in her chest.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she whispered back, copying his tone as she leant in slightly closer to him, their faces mere inches apart.

“Ahem, there are children here guys,” Ronnie pointed out, forcing them to break apart.

“But you guys we-” Jughead started but Betty ran her hand down his arm, wordlessly telling him to drop it. He sent her an exasperated look before turning back to their friends, causing Betty to giggle at him before following suit.

“Jug, I was thinking maybe the girls could come over for a movie night on Saturday. Dad said he’ll be out and we could get takeout for dinner or something,” Archie suggested, his arm resting on the booth behind Ronnie. Jughead raised his eyebrows at Betty in question only to find her already looking at him.

“Yeah I’m keen,” Betty said, sending him a reassuring smile before looking at Archie. “But only if we get pizza, I’ve been craving Hawaiian all week.” They all laughed at the sour face Archie pulled at the mention of the infamous pineapple pizza. Jughead leant over and kissed Betty on the cheek, unable to keep the smile off his face as he thought of how much had changed since the last time they had eaten Hawaiian pizza together.

“Cool, it’s settled then. Pizza and movies at my place on Saturday. Jug and I have gotta go but we’ll see you guys tomorrow at school.” Archie and Jughead kissed their respective girlfriends goodbye. Veronica stood up to let Archie get out but Jughead decided to climb ungracefully over Betty before she had the chance to copy her host sister. The bell over the door twinkled as the boys made their way to Archie’s car, leaving the girls alone with their milkshakes.

“I know I’ve said it before but I’m really glad you and Jughead found each other, you’re perfect together,” Ronnie said with a soft smile. Her fingers were absent mindedly twirling around the straw of her chocolate milkshake, half of it already melted in the cool glass as a result of her ‘distraction’.

“Thanks V. I’m really glad I found him to.” Betty tried to hide the loving smile on her face by taking a sip of her milkshake but drank too much and ended up with brain freeze, both of the girls doubling over in laughter. They spent the next hour or so gossiping and laughing, purposely avoiding the talk of school and ever present deadlines which seemed to constantly follow them around.

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

The rest of the week went quickly, all four of them going through the motions and looking forward to Saturday. Even though they hung out all the time at Pop’s, it was nice to have something planned to look forward to, even if it was just pizza and a movie.

Betty and Veronica arrived at the Andrews household late on Saturday evening with pizzas in hand, as per Archie’s request. They all settled in the living room, Ronnie and Archie in the armchair and Betty and Jughead snuggled up on the couch.

“What do you guys wanna watch?” Archie asked with his mouthful.

“I’m in the mood for anything with Audrey Hepburn. Maybe ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” Ronnie suggested, picking at something leafy on her slice. Everybody looked at Jughead, knowing he would be the only one to protest. Archie always agreed with Ronnie and Betty was usually indifferent when they watched movies with Veronica and Archie, not so much when it was just her and Jughead.

“As long as I don’t have to set it up,” Jughead shrugged, adjusting Betty slightly so he could grab another slice. Ronnie begrudgingly got up out of Archie’s lap to set it up, the title sequence appearing on the large tv minutes later.

As per normal, Ronnie fell asleep halfway through. Archie carefully carried her up the stairs to his room, waving a silent goodnight to his two friends left alone on the couch. They finished the movie in silence, Jughead’s fingers running through Betty’s hair as her thumb drew lazy circles on his arm. He could feel her mouth moving as she mouthed the words at the end of the movie, a sleepy smile crossing his face. It didn’t take long for the screen to turn black, plunging them into darkness but neither of them moved. Betty was ok with the darkness as long as he was holding her and he wasn’t planning on letting her go.

“We should do something tomorrow Jug, just the two of us,” Betty said quietly, shifting her head slightly so she could look up at his face, his blue eyes piercing through the blackness.

“What did you have in mind?” His fingers softly traced the lines of her face, wanting to know exactly what she looked like even though it was too dark to see.

“I’m in the mood for a picnic.” Betty shifted once again so she was lying with her head on his chest, staring up at the ceiling as his fingers returned to her hair.

“We could go to Sweetwater if you wanted. The snows cleared so it won’t be too cold if we take our coats.” He felt her nod and could almost sense the tiredness around her. He leant down to kiss her forehead before pulling her upright. ‘Do you want to go into the spare room?” He asked quietly.

“Mhmm,” she mumbled. He lead her up the stairs and into the room, grabbing some spare pyjamas from his and Archie’s room on the way. She disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes to get changed, Jughead doing the same and jumping under the covers to stay warm. He had almost dozed off by the time she came back, vaguely aware of Betty wrapping his arms around her before falling into a peaceful slumber.

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

The sun rose much earlier than Betty and Jughead would have liked, both of them having no choice but to rise with it since neither of them had closed the curtains the night before.

“Juggie, why is it so bright?” Betty whined, refusing to open her eyes but still sensing the light.

“We should probably get up babe. I think Fred is getting home soon,” Jughead mumbled, not really wanting to follow through on his words.

“Just five more minutes,” Betty said groggily, rolling over and hiding her head under the pillow. Jughead chuckled at her action, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder before untangling himself from her embrace and hopping out of the covers, immediately regretting his actions. He pulled slowly made his way downstairs, turning on the coffee machine and sifting through the fridge for something to eat. Betty came down twenty minutes later wearing her clothes from yesterday, rubbing her eyes and moving in a zombie like fashion.

“Thank the Lord for coffee,” she muttered, grabbing the coffee pot from the bench and pouring herself a huge mug full. She gulped it down and sighed in satisfaction once the mug was emptied, a feat which only took a handful of seconds. Jughead laughed and made his way across the kitchen, kissing Betty’s forehead.

“You ready for our picnic?” His voice was playful and Betty’s eyes lit up, a mixture of the thought of getting to spend the day alone with her boyfriend and the heavenly goodness that is coffee.

“I’m always ready for a picnic. Should we stop by the store on the way or is there enough stuff here?” Betty asked, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer, her eyes locking with his.

“Betts, there are three guys living here, you really think we have spare food just lying around?” Betty laughed and threw her head back, Jughead taking it as an opportunity to kiss the tip of her nose.

“You make a fair point.” They spent the rest of the morning getting stuff ready; blankets, cutlery, plates, glasses, water, coats. Neither of them were surprised that Veronica and Archie had yet to appear and were both secretly grateful, knowing that their friends would want to tag along if they found out what they were doing.

Midday rolled around and Betty and Jughead were just about to head out the door when they bumped into Fred.

“Hey kids, where are you off to?” Fred asked as he took off his coat, hanging it up next to the door.

“Betty decided she was in the mood for a picnic. Is it alright if I take the truck?” Jughead asked.

“Yeah of course. Be back by dinner though because I need to run a couple of errands this evening,” Fred replied, handing Jughead the keys.

“Thanks Fred, see you tonight,” Jughead called over his shoulder as he dragged Betty out the front door. Fred stood in the doorway and watched them drive away, both of them laughing in the front seat over something he didn’t catch. It was strange to see Jughead acting like that, his old walls completely broken down by the new girl with the pretty smile. Just as he was heading into the kitchen, Veronica and Archie snuck down the stairs. It looked like they were trying to be sneaky but that went out the window when Veronica dropped one of her shoes when they were near the top, the heel making loud noises and it tumbled towards the ground. Fred quickly ducked into the kitchen, not being able to decide if he should scold Archie for having Veronica in his room or being so crap at hiding it. In the end, he decided to act like he hadn’t noticed Veronica running across their front lawn and made himself some fresh coffee instead.

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

Just as they had hoped, they didn’t encounter another soul at Sweetwater River. They wrapped their coats around them tightly and made their way to their rock, each of them carrying numerous bags filled with their picnic essentials.

“It looks so different without the snow,” Betty commented as they lay a blanket on the ground. She pulled a couple of sandwiches out of one of the bags, handing one to Jughead before she snuggled into his. His arm came around her shoulder as she leaned into him. They both faced away from the forest, gaze trained on the roaring river as it danced and swirled around their rock.

“I like it best in Fall,” Jughead said once he’d finished his sandwich. “The trees look like they’re on fire when the sun hits them just right. The weather is warm, but not warm enough for swimming so hardly anyone comes here except a few runners. It makes it seem almost magical.”

“I wish I could have seen it,” Betty said with a sigh. She could feel Jughead tense under here, the same way he always did when reminded that their time together was limited. He leant over and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“I’ll bring you back one day, ok. We can have a picnic just like this one and then stroll through the trees, just the two of us, ok?” Jughead asked, his tone sounding desperate.

“You promise?” Betty asked softly, looking into the depth of his blue eyes and wishing more than anything for that to happen.

“I promise,” he whispered before kissing her once more. “I love you Betty.” Jughead pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against hers and pulling her closer to him. “I love you.” He whispered it again and again, peppering her face with small kisses until she replied.

“I love you Jughead.” At those short words they became a mess of limbs. Jughead shifted slightly so Betty was lying against the blanket, his body hovering mere inches above her. His kisses moved from her face to her neck, teeth grazing against her collarbone as she arched into him.

“I love you Jughead,” she repeated, his lips now moving up to capture hers in a heated kiss as she let out a slight gasp. He leant onto one arm, moving one of his hands down to her coat and undoing the first button, his lips still attached to hers. One of Betty’s hand ran through his hair, her fingers slightly scratching his scalp under his beanie as her other hand helped him with the buttons. Suddenly, they heard a familiar voice in the trees behind them.

“Vegas, come back!” They jumped apart and only had a second to collect themselves before a big ball of yellow fluff bowled into Jughead. “Vegas! You can’t just go up to str- oh, hey guys.” Archie said as he finally realised who his dog had run after. Jughead was scratching Vegas behind the ear and gave Archie a half friendly smile.

“Hey Arch, what brings you here?” To anyone else, Jughead might have seemed like he was being perfectly polite but Betty could see the frustration in his eyes and had to stop herself from laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“Oh, um, Vegas needed a walk and I figured there wouldn’t be anyone around so I let him off the lead.” Archie explained, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Oh ok, well I’ll see you at home,” Jughead said, hoping Archie would take a hint and leave. Unfortunately for Jughead, he had no such luck.

“So what are you guys up to?” Archie asked, reattaching Vegas lead to his collar.

“Betty felt like a picnic so here we are, see you later Arch.” Jughead turned his attention to Betty, trying to get the message across to Archie. The shortness of his tone had obviously worked and Archie mumbled his goodbyes before running back through the trees, Vegas dragging along behind him.

“You ok Jug?” Betty said, still trying to contain her laughter at her boyfriend’s actions.

“I’m fine, I just feel like we never get any time together anymore. Ron and Arch are always there and I miss being alone with you.” Betty smiled at his confession and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“How about this, we go away camping or something one weekend, just the two of us. No V, or Arch, or Fred, or Vegas. Just you and me.” Betty suggested as she ran her fingers along his jawline. Jughead placed his hand gently over hers and sent her a grateful smile.

“That sounds perfect.” He kissed her softly, pulling away slowly and hugging her tight. Her stomach grumbled and they separated in a fit of laughter. Betty grabbed some more sandwiches out of the bag, passing Jughead another one without bothering to ask first because she knew what the answer would be. They spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and eating, stealing kisses and holding each other tight.

The sun started to go down at about 6pm, both of them reluctantly packing and heading back to the truck, putting the heat on at full blast. Jughead’s hand rested on Betty’s leg as he drove her to the Pembrook, leaving her a lingering kiss when she finally had to get out of the truck.

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

Just as Betty was getting ready for bed, she heard her phone buzz from her dresser.

Juggie: What are you doing next weekend?

Betts: Nothing…

Juggie: Do you want to take that trip? Betty couldn’t help her smile as she read over his words, imagining the way his arm would have rubbed the back of his neck when he typed it or how he was probably fiddling with his hair as he waited for her reply.

Betts: I would love to

Betts: What did you have in mind? Now it was her turn to wait anxiously for a reply. She started picking at her nail polish, glancing up at her phone every few seconds in case he replied but her phone didn’t buzz. How did he still make her feel like this? They’d been dating for almost six months but he still made her feel giddy with the smallest of glances.

Her phone buzzed and a photo of Jughead filled up the screen, signalling an incoming call. She accepted it before the second ring.

“Hey Juggie.”

“Hey Betts. So I was thinking, maybe we could go camping in Greendale? It’s far enough away that we won’t run into anyone but it won’t be too much of a pain to get there and the weather should be a bit warmer so hopefully we won’t have t-”

“I’d love to Jug,” Betty cut him off, knowing that he would keep rambling if she kept quiet, another nervous habit of his. “That sounds perfect.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, imagining him looking down at his shoes to avoid her seeing his grin, even if they were just on the phone.

“Can we video chat? I want to see you,” Betty asked shyly.

“Sure Betts, give me a sec,” he chuckled before hanging up. She only had the time to sit up on her bed before a Skype request came through from Jughead.

“Hey,” Betty said as she answered it.

“Hey,” Jughead replied, sure enough wearing that same lazy smile that Betty had imagined. “So I was thinking…”

The couple talked for the next half an hour about plans for the following weekend, their smiles growing larger as their idea became more and more realistic. Betty was talking about how she could avoid telling her mother when Veronica burst through her bedroom door.

“Oh my god, B, you’re never going to guess what Cheryl just posted on Twitter,” Ronnie said dramatically as she strutted in, lying gracefully at the end of Betty’s bed.

“Sorry Jug, I gotta go. See you tomorrow,” Betty said regretfully, not wanting to end their conversation but knowing Veronica wouldn’t give her much of a choice.

“Bye babe, see you tomorrow.” The screen went black as he hung up, forcing Betty to turn her attention to her host sister.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing him say babe. Also, what’s up with the video chatting? Didn’t you guys spend all day together?” Ronnie asked, raising her eyebrows in question.

“Well, yeah, but we were just sorting out some stuff,” Betty replied vaguely, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“You guys are so adorable. I don’t think I’ve ever been like that with Archie.” Betty shrugged, unsure how she was supposed to respond.

“So, what did Cheryl do this time?”

“Oh my god, you’ll never believe it…”

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

Betty was so excited for the following weekend that it seemed to be an eternity away. Ten whole days. How was she supposed to concentrate on school or anything for that matter when all she could think about was that she would get to be alone with her boyfriend for an entire weekend? They’d never really done that before. In New York they’d been left to their own devices but they were always aware Archie and Veronica. During the snowstorm they’d been all alone but that had only been one night so Betty was beyond excited for a whole 48 hours all to themselves.

The ten days crawled past and Betty managed to survive on the small amount of contact they’d been reduced to since cheer and football season had wound down. The final bell rang on Friday and Betty raced out of the classroom, beelining towards where Fred’s truck was waiting in the school parking lot. Jughead was already there, hauling his backpack into the back of the truck. Betty bounced over to him and kissed him square on the lips, taking him by surprise.

“Looks like someone’s excited,” Jughead teased once she pulled away, taking in her bright smile and the way here green eyes sparkled.

“Maybe,” Betty said as she skipped around to the passenger side, dumping her bag down at her feet. Jughead chuckled at her excitement as he sat up behind the steering wheel, putting the keys in the ignition before pulling out of the school gates.

Betty plugged her phone into the car speaker once they got onto the motorway, putting on an upbeat song which Jughead didn’t recognise and singing along. He had only heard her sing once, the morning after their first date, and he’d never realised how beautiful her voice was. She hit all of the notes easily, both of them dissolving into laughter when she tried to sing along and imitate the instruments at the same time. The hour long trip passed in the blink of an eye and soon enough they were turning into the Greendale Camping Ground. They paid the donation before driving into the field reserved for tents. It was completely deserted but they picked a spot away from the entrance anyway, hoping anyone else that came would get the hint and keep their distance.

By the time night fell, they had managed to get the tent up with minimal difficulty, save from some dispute over the correct technique for inserting the tent pegs in the ground, and were currently sitting around a small campfire toasting marshmallows.

“I know you did this last time we toasted marshmallows but I still find it weird that you burn the outsides,” Jughead said. Betty blew out the flame on her now black marshmallow and put the whole thing in her mouth, looking at him pointedly.

“But burnt marshmallows are the best! If you don’t burn them then they aren’t warm in the middle and then what’s the point in toasting them?” Betty said once she’d finished eating hers, waggling her stick at him.

“You’re weird,” he chuckled, pulling her closer into his side and kissing her temple. She snuggled in and grabbed another marshmallow out of the bag, skewering it then holding it over the flames. Once it was sufficiently burnt, she pulled it out of the fire and held it up to Jughead.

“Try it,” she demanded, waving it in front of his face. He opened his mouth and bit it off her stick, making a sour face as he chewed.

“You know I love my food babe, but that is not edible.” He swallowed exaggeratedly and she giggled at his dramatics, prepping another marshmallow for charring.

“I don’t know if we can be together if you don’t like burnt marshmallows,” she joked, her cheeky smile giving her away. He kissed her scrunched up nose as he grabbed his own marshmallow, burning it to a crisp before putting it straight into his mouth, acting as though he was enjoying it.

“See it’s not that bad,” Betty protested as she ate her own. They carried on in a similar fashion until the bag was empty, teasing and laughing and sneaking in kisses whenever they got the chance. They walked back to their tent hand in hand, both of them grateful for their extreme lack of neighbours. Betty was rifling through her bag when felt Jughead head towards the entrance of the tent.

“I’ll go get changed in the bathrooms,” he mumbled. Just as he was reaching for the zip he felt Betty’s hand on his arm. He turned around to face her, her eyes meeting hers as her arms wrapped around his shoulders, joining behind his neck and fiddling with the tufts of hair that had fallen out of his beanie.

“You could get changed here if you wanted.” Betty’s voice was soft and nervous.

“Are you sure?” He knew that Betty wasn’t just talking about getting changed.

“Yeah. I’m sure. I mean, we’re both 17 and we have already seen each other in our underwear so it shouldn’t be that strange, should it? Plus it’s cold outside and you really shouldn’t b-” His lips cut her off as they pressed against hers, his pyjamas dropping to the ground as his hands moved up to cup her face. She deepened the kiss immediately, melting into him as she pulled him closer. His hands moved from her face to the hem of her shirt, fiddling with the edge as he waited for a sign. She broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his, looking into his eyes and nodding slowly.

He pulled her shirt over her head slowly, waiting for her to change her mind but thankful that she never did. Once her shirt had joined his pyjamas on the floor she reached for the hem of his shirt, waiting for him to nod before pulling it over his head, his beanie going with it.

“Are you sure?” Jughead repeated, his hands once again cupping her face.

“I love you,” she whispered in lieu of a response.

“I love you.”

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

They woke up early the next morning as the sun lit up the walls of their tent. Betty opened her eyes first, rolling closer into Jughead’s side as the cold air bit at her bare skin. She felt him stir and kissed his cheek softly, watching his dark eyelashes as they fluttered awake.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hey,” she mumbled back, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“How are you feeling?” Jughead asked once they broke apart, not quite sure how she was feeling about what they’d done the night before.

“Amazing,” she whispered in his ear. He felt her teeth ghost the shell of his ear and shivered involuntarily. She giggled at his reaction, pulling back and kissing him once more.

“Come here,” he chuckled, pulling her closer to him and wrapping his arms tighter around his waist. “You’re keeping me warm.”

“It might help if we put some clothes on,” Betty giggled again.

“Or we could not,’ he suggested, his hands roaming a little lower than her waist. She squealed in surprise at the action and swatted Jughead’s arm playfully.

“Maybe later but we need to get up if we want to get down to the river by lunchtime,” Betty pointed out as she tried to untangle herself from his arms. Jughead wouldn’t let in, holding her close and tickling her sides when she tried to escape.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to go on a hike,” he muttered in her ear, his fingers still dancing along her sides.

“At least it’s all downhill,” she said breathlessly once his fingers finally stilled.

“But that’s even worse because then that means it’s all uphill on the way back,” he groaned as she finally managed to get out of the sleeping bag, scurrying over to her bag so as to avoid Jughead’s gaze. Despite what they’d done last night, Betty wasn’t the biggest fan of Jughead looking at her naked in broad daylight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, almost as though he could read her thoughts, and Betty almost believed him. She sent him a shy smile before pulling on her clothes, completely aware of Jughead’s eyes watching her every move. She was tempted to look over at him but knew that if she did, they’d never leave the tent. Once Betty was fully clothed, she turned around to face him, her expression still morphed into that shy smile he adored.

“I’ll wait outside,” she said quickly, scampering out of the tent before he had a chance to change her mind. Jughead reluctantly got out of the sleeping bag, pulling on clothes at random in his half awake state. He decided to leave his beanie off for the day, figuring he wouldn’t really be needing it in the mild weather, not that that had ever stopped him before. Jughead offered Betty his arm as soon as he got out of the tent.

“Shall we?” He asked in a fake british accent.

“We really need to work on your accents,” Betty commented with a laugh, taking Jughead’s arm and allowing him to lead her into the forest.

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

The walk passed quickly, much to Jughead’s surprise, and Sweetwater River came into view long before either of them were expecting it to.

“It looks completely different to what it was like two weeks ago,” Betty observed as they ate their lunch. The leaves had started to grow back on the trees, attracting birds and other small animals, giving the forest the feeling of new life. The river wasn’t very strong here and no longer gave off an icy chill, allowing Betty to dip her toes in without having to worry about them turning blue. Jughead sat down on the rock next to her, dangling his long legs over the edge of the rock and swirling his feet in the water.

“How are you doing that Betts? It’s freezing!” Jughead exclaimed, pulling his feet out of the river and crossing them under himself instead.

“It’s not that bad, you just need to toughen up,” Betty teased, poking him slightly in the chest.

“Watch it Betts. You wouldn’t want to have to walk to the tent soaking would you?” Jughead threatened, moving closer to her and placing one hand on her back. He pushed her slightly but then held the back of her shirt to stop her from falling, laughing at the terrified look which clouded her expression.

“Jughead Jones, you are gonna pay for that,” she said playfully, leaning down to scoop up a handful of water and throwing it in his face. Now it was Betty’s turn to laugh but it didn’t last very long. Jughead retaliated in the blink of an eye, a smug grin on his face.

Neither of them was quite sure how it happened but somehow they both ended up in the river, laughing and splashing and pulling each other under. Once they were both soaked to the bone and shivering they clambered onto the rock, both grateful for the warm sun and the lack of wind. Betty lay on the rock while Jughead grabbed their picnic blanket, wrapping it around both of them in an attempt to warm up. It worked for the most part, both of them deciding that the walk back to the tent would probably do wonders for the two of them and quickly packed up their things, making their way back into the forest.

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

After they’d eaten dinner and tended to the fire, Betty and Jughead laid down in the bed of Fed’s truck, wrapped up in each other and then covered in blankets. The stars lit up the sky, looking a lot more impressive than the fairy lights Betty had strung up in their fort during the snow storm.

“I’ve always loved the stars,” Betty said quietly to no one in particular. “They’re always there in this perfect silence, just stretching out to oblivion.” Jughead kept quiet, sensing that Betty was going to carry on and not wanting to discourage her.

“Polly and I used to sneak out of our rooms during Matariki and lie out on the grass in the backyard looking up at the stars, trying to spot the seven sisters. I’m pretty sure my mum knew about it because we weren’t exactly quiet but she never said anything. Other than the seven sisters we could never find any real constellations so we would find our own ones and give them crazy names.” Betty chuckled at the memory, feeling her eyes getting misty. She could sense Jughead’s eyes on her but she couldn’t tear her own away from the sky, too entranced in the stars and the memories they held.

“A couple of times after Polly left, I’d call her when stuff got really bad with … with my anxiety. She’d tell me to go outside and look up at the stars and try to find all of our constellations. I can still remember a couple but the stars are all different here. There’s nothing familiar.” Her voice broke and she felt slow tears rolling down her face. Betty finally looked at Jughead, ready for him to tell her she was crazy. He leant up on one elbow and gently brushed the tears off her face with his thumb.

“What have you done since you’ve been here?” Jughead asked softly, his thumb still rubbing her cheek even though the tears were already drying on the blankets.

“I haven’t felt like that since I’ve been here, except for that party on New Year’s Eve. When that happened I didn’t need the stars because … because I had you,” Betty said quietly, her eyes meeting his and trying to convey everything she felt for him in that look since she knew she’d never be able to find the right words. He leant forward and kissed her slowly, lovingly, wordlessly telling her he felt the same.

“I love you Betts and I will always be there for you,” he reassured her when they eventually pulled apart, his thumb stroking her cheek once more.

“I will always believe you Juggie,” she whispered back. They stayed that way for a moment, a single moment which seemed so long but no where near long enough.

“Hey Jug?”

“Mhmm.”

“Take me to bed.” And that he did.

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

The sun didn’t wake them the following morning. It was too busy hiding behind the clouds to act as their alarm clock, leaving the two teenagers to sleep peacefully until the middle of the morning. Betty woke up to the sound of raindrop pounding the outside of the tent, and Jughead kissing her shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered when he saw her eyes flutter open, a lazy smile crossing her face.

“Hey,” she whispered back.

“Guess what,” he mumbled into her skin, moving his lips across her neck and leaving a trail of soft kisses in his wake.

“What,” she said sleepily, not quite awake but getting a feeling that this is how she wanted to be woken up every morning.

��We have nothing to do.” She could feel the smile on Jughead’s lips, his teeth slightly grazing her collarbone and she arched her chest slightly, wanting to get more of him.

“I have one thing I want to do,” Betty said in a sultry tone, causing Jughead to stop in his tracks and look up at her face. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she tried to hide the giddy smile she got on her face every time Jughead looked at her with those eyes.

“Any chance I can help with that?’ Jughead asked, matching her tone and slowly closing the gap between them.

“Ok, so maybe two things…”

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

After they’d finished doing the first thing, Betty forced Jughead out of the tent so they could do the second. She bounced over to the truck and plugged her phone into the speaker, turning the volume all the way up and winding down the windows, thankful there wasn’t any wind so the rain didn’t drench the seats.

“What are you up to Betts?” Jughead queried, a curious smile on his face.

“Don’t judge me, but I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain.” Jughead couldn’t help but laugh at how childish she looked, spinning around in her light dress as the rain turned her blonde hair brown.

“Come on Jug, dance with me,” she pleaded, holding out her hands as she jumped up and down to the music. He acted reluctant but Betty could see the joy in his eyes. He twirled and dipped her around the field, one again thankful that they were alone but thinking he probably wouldn’t care if they weren’t.

“Catch me if you can!” Betty yelled over her shoulder, taking advantage of Jughead daydreaming to get a head start, sprinting across the field. He laughed and raced after her, trying and failing to catch up with her. He eventually trapped her in a corner of the forest, picking her up and spinning her around.

“Juggie!” She squealed playfully as he set her back on the ground. He kissed her passionately and picked her up again, carrying her back over to the tent and laying her down carefully on their bed inside.

“We should probably start packing up,” Betty said sadly, reaching up and running her fingers through his damp hair and letting it stick up every which way.

“Five more minutes,” Jughead whined light hearted, trying to play it off as a joke but meaning every word of it. He fell down beside her a stared up at the ceiling, watching the drops of rain run down the fabric.

“Did you bring your book Jug?” Betty asked as she rolled on her side to face him. He leant over to the side of the bed, grabbing his book off the floor and opening it up to the dog ear page, knowing that was what she was going to ask him to do. She turned sideways so her head was lying on his chest. His hand moved to run through her dripping hair, his other holding his book steady as he read aloud, bringing the words to life.

He reached the end of the chapter much faster than Betty wanted, forcing her to reluctantly stand up before they stayed there all day. She threw her clothes in her bag at random, not bothered with folding things since most of it needed to be washed anyway. Once the two of them had packed up the inside of the tent, they carried their bags out to the truck and covered them with a tarpaulin, hoping that their things weren’t going to get any wetter than they already were.

“I don’t want to go back,” Betty complained as they tried to fold up the tent. They gave up pretty quickly and stuffed it into the bag, vowing to sort it out when they got back to the Andrews’ but knowing that probably wouldn’t happen.

“We should do this more often,” Jughead suggested, refusing to believe this was the only weekend they would ever have alone together. He turned away from Betty to make sure the tarpaulin was secured tightly.

“I don’t leave until June so we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” Betty said, coming up behind Jughead and leaning up on her toes so she could wrap her arms around his neck and kiss the back of his shoulder. She could feel him tensing under her touch and realised once again that she probably shouldn’t have bought up her leaving. He leant his head down and kissed her hands where they were joined over his chest.

“In that case, we definitely have to do this more often. It’s practically a crime against humanity if we don’t,” Jughead teased, brushing her hair out of her face. “You ready to go?”

“Never,” Betty replied, allowing Jughead to drag her into the cab of the truck nonetheless.

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

“I love you Juggie,” Betty told him before she got out of the car. She was delaying it and they both knew it, neither of them really wanting to go back to reality after such a perfect weekend.

“And I love you Betts but you need to go. I really don’t want you to but I think Ron just saw us out the window and I’m pretty sure she’ll kill me if I keep you from her for another minute,” Jughead joked. Betty looked up through the windshield and sure enough, the curtain in Veronica’s room fluttered shut as if she knew she’d been caught. Betty laughed, kissing Jughead one last time before grabbing her bag and heading upstairs.

“B! I didn’t know you were getting back this early! What a surprise!” Veronica bear hugged Betty as soon as she opened the door.

“Hey V! You are such a bad liar, Jughead saw you at your window,” Betty said once Ronnie released her.

“Fine, you caught me,” Ronnie gave in as she pulled Betty down to sit on one of the couches.

“So … how was your weekend?” She asked with her eyebrows raised.

“It was perfect. It was so nice to spend time alone with Jughead, no offense V,” Betty said quickly.

“Oh, none taken. So you slept with him?” Betty’s face went bright red. She was used to the directness of Ronnie’s questions but she wasn’t sure how she wanted to answer, or how much she wanted Ronnie to know.

“I totally called it,” Ronnie said with a smile on her face. “How was it? Did it hurt? Was he good?”

“Ok first off, how the hell did you know that? And for the rest, amazing, kinda, I’m not answering,” Betty grinned.

“It’s totally all over your face and you took way too long to answer my question. You are so obvious,” Ronnie said with a self satisfied smirk. Betty stood up from the couch, pulling her bag back onto her shoulder.

“You are way too good at that. I gotta go empty my bag but we’ll talk about you later. I can tell you’re dying to tell me something,” Betty pointed out as she started walking out of the room.

“I so do and you are going to be the one dying when I tell you. I’ll give you a hint; think Cheryl Blossom and an affair that everyone will be remembering,” Veronica called out dramatically as Betty walked into her room with an amused grin on her face. She dumped the contents of her bag onto her bed and was about to dump it all in her laundry basket when a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket of her jeans caught her attention.

I love you and I will always be there for you. - Juggie

Betty’s fingers traced over the familiar messy scrawl that Jughead called handwriting, tears coming to her eyes as she remembered when he’d told her those exact words the night before. She grabbed some tape off her desk and taped the note up on the wall over her bed, never wanting to forget those precious words.

[miracufic]

I feel like your the best person to ask, so: do you think in the end, everything will be ok? I know this is a bit of a weird or stupid question but I'm feeling terrified tonight like a lot of others.

I am very probably not the best person to ask about this. My reaction to the election was to sit in a depressive haze and eat cookies for four hours straight. My reaction to the inauguration was to sleep until noon and watch obscenely happy anime for the rest of the day in an attempt to forget that I lived in a world where that was possible. I am not a person that reacts well (e.g. with either optimism and action or unbridled fury and action) to bad events.

So in the immediate future, no. I don’t believe that everything will be okay in the immediate future. I think that there’s going to be a lot of backsliding even in spite of our resistance (especially if the Democrats don’t get their fucking shit together and start acting like an opposition party instead of a bunch of schoolchildren with appendicitis), and a lot of attempts to lock that in for a generation or two.

But if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that while history may not repeat, it certainly does rhyme. Canada had an asshat of a PM for a while, and then kicked him out for a seriously more moderate (while not perfect, definitely more moderate) guy: Trudeau. Britain bounced Margaret Thatcher out, eventually, even if they are sliding back now. In Germany it is still literally quite illegal to be a Nazi, spout pro-Nazi claptrap, or similar. At least for now.

So I do expect backlash to come eventually.  My gut is telling me that it’s going to be messy, and there will probably be blood involved, either metaphorical or literal.  But it will come.

Let me leave you with the following thought.

He heard the sound of sobbing from further along the barricade.  It wasn’t young Sam, he knew, and Nobby Nobbs had probably cried all the tears a body was capable of some time ago.  It was Reg.  He sat with his back to the makeshift defense, the threadbare flag across his knees, and tears dripping off his chin.

“Reg, you ought to go,” Vimes hissed.  “You don’t even have a weapon.”

“What’s the good of it, eh?” said Reg.  “You were bloody right, sarge!  Things just go round and round!  You got rid of the bloody Unmentionables and here they are again!  What’s the point, eh?  This city could be such a great place but no, oh no, the bastards always end up on top!  Nothing ever bloody changes!  They just take their money and mess us around!”

Carcer had stopped twenty yards from the barricade, and was watching it carefully.

“Way of the world, Reg,” murmured Vimes, counting enemies under his breath.

And a big covered cart came around the corner, rocking under its load.  It rolled to a halt a little way from Carcer’s crew, partly because the way was blocked but mostly, perhaps, because one of the men had walked up to the driver and aimed a crossbow at his head.

“And now the bloody bastards have won,” moaned Reg.

“Every day of the week, Reg,” said Vimes absently, trying to follow the movements of too many people at once.

The other men were spreading out.  After all, they had the firepower.

The man holding up Mr. Dibbler, the cart driver, wasn’t paying too much attention.  Now Vimes wished he’d put himself in the wagon.  Oh, well, someone had to start the rumble—

“Yeah?  You want to shoot something?  Bastards!”

They all stared, Carcer too.  Reg had stood up, was waving the flag back and forth, was clambering over the barricade…

He held the flag like a banner of defiance.  “You can take our lives but you’ll never take our freedom!” he screamed.

Carcer’s men looked at one another, puzzled by what sounded like the most badly thought-out war cry in the history of the universe.  Vimes could see their lips moving as they tried to work it out.

Carcer raised his crossbow, gestured to his men, and said: “Wrong!”

Reg was hit by five heavy bolts so that he did a little dance before falling to his knees.  It happened in seconds.

Vimes opened his mouth to give the order to charge, and shut it when he saw Reg raise his head.  In silence, using the flag pole as an aid, Reg got back to his feet.

Three more arrows hit him.  He looked down at his skinny chest, bristling with feathers, and took a step forward.  And another.

One of the crossbowmen drew his sword and ran at the stricken man, and was knocked into the air by a blow from Reg that must have felt like it had come from a sledgehammer.

This passage is from Night Watch, by the late Sir Terry Pratchett, from the Discworld series.  I really, really recommend that you read his books (but do look around for a Discworld reading order guide because the series as a whole can get a bit overwhelming, I know that thebibliosphere has one floating around her blog somewhere) because they’re a reliable ray of sunshine and/or bolt of unbridled outraged fury and they’ve personally helped me a lot through the past few months.

But anyways, the whole point leading up to this is that the Revolution has failed.  One corrupt tyrant has led to another corrupt tyrant, employing the same (AND EXPLICITLY FASCIST) fucks as muscle.  This isn’t a spoiler or some big surprise; if you’ve read any of the other books or the rest of the book prior to this it’s an explicit part of the canon.  And frankly, this is the darkest part of the entire series.  In this moment, at this time, and in this place, there is no hope.

Right up until Reginald fucking Shoe, literally weeping with despair and hopelessness, with the tattered remnants of his ideals upon his knees, gets up and fucking does something.

It’s worth noting that this pack of government-sponsored losers does lose the fight.

Granted, he does die for his ideals (because having multiple arrows in your chest does do that to someone) and since this is the real world you can’t get up as a zombie like he does.  But please keep in mind that the bastards in power will do everything they can to break the rules, because the GOP is a bunch of worm-riddled, power-hungry tyrants.  The only answer I have to that is to be furious about it.  To remember that there is a right, and a wrong, and that they do not get to dictate what it is.

And that while ideals don’t make fantastic shields, they do make wonderful weapons.

[samuelcrobinsononlinearchive]

Zombie somthing

Grandad passed painlessly, sad, cold, but peacefully at last. He was wearing his blue thick jumper from m&s, odd socks. Left foot sporting polka dots, right foot styling plain red. I've never seen my brother cry before; even as a child he would have rather of gotten even than cry. Thomas had spent the last two weeks by grandads side, appeasing his every request however odd; like ice cream with a flake and pulling up floor boards for his hidden treasures. That he wished to be passed down to the family; only to find dust and pipes of course.

He lived in a two bed semi detached house on knole road, I like to think it has a post modern look about the place because well, it's old school. Rustic fire place, green carpet throughout, dated sofas with a hint of modern television, iPad and karaoke machine. Thomas has been clearing out all the junk the past three days, the house is a council owned building and they ever so kindly told us we had a week to move everything out. The door bright red with a strong feeling of nostalgia was half open when I arrived, walking in I called for

Thomas but nothing replied. This is strange because Thomas has the hearing of a bat, if you don't know bats are blind and can only see with their heightened sense of hearing. Boxes of China crashed as I walked through what used to be the living room, I felt a strange lump in my throat telling me that nothing was going to be okay. Grandad was our last living relative in England, this meant that me and Thomas were all alone in this little but large island. Oceans away from our mother and farther, Sarah and Brian.

When grandad first passed away I was so angry, my flesh was steaming I could feel a sense of imaginative strength raging from my body as if at any minute I was going to tare the room apart. Desk legs flying into Windows and my office manager Debra laughing because she "always knew I was a crazy". I could hear something up stairs, a strange sort of clanking. The kind you hear at night when all the lights are out, when you can't sleep

Because all you can think about is that noise. The one you blame on the four year old

Fridge. I decided to go investigate, with every step a felt an ever looming sense of doubt that maybe I was just in the wrong house. All of grandads furniture was missing from the

Living room. The stairs that were once covered in photo frames now bare walls, only yellow wall paper that clashed with the green dated carpet. Finally I heard Thomas shout! A great yell of pain. “Thomas are you okay”

“Yeah sorry sis, I'm in the loft” he half shouted At me

“I'll be down in a minute, just want to get this tree”

The tree fell down. Not down the loft hatch but down through the roof.

“Oh Thomas, that pissy girl at the council is not going to be happy about this!”

“We can just put a rug over it”

“Yeah. A rug on the ceiling makes perfect sense”

Thomas had his moments of questionable sanity like when we were little; he was eight I was ten, he didn't speak for an entire month. He never told us why, or how it was even possible. I always assumed it was a bet with one of his friends, although he never really had many friends. Only one that I could remember, George. They were the same person, they laughed at the same things, ate the same things, liked the same games. Never apart from each other as if they had their own little world.

I brought  dinner Thomas!

Dinner was two falafel salads and two ice cold diet cokes, Thomas is notoriously known for being a calorie counter. He never ate pizza unless it was low fat cheese and wheat free, his favourite foods were rice and salads. I on the other hand liked large full fat pizzas and those cheese and pineapple squares you get at low budget wedding party's. The Air seemed still as we both avoided the conversation that was grandad.  I asked him how his new job was going at the garden centre warehouse. He said it was fine. The Conversation was almost as dry as the air, Thomas got up to turn on the light. Typical English weather meant that by five o’clock the sun was already retiring from the sky.

“I don't believe this”

What?

“They've only gone and shut off the power to his house”

Really? You spoke to the power company already?

“Nope!”

Well someone must have, I bet it was that pissy bitch from the council!

“I don't think she's actually out to get you Mia”

Prove it.

Maybe it's just the bulb?

Thomas moved around using every appliance or electrical switch he could find. Flicking up and down, on to off. Turns out it wasn't the bulb.

Maybe we should just head home, we can't do much in the dark.

“I guess let me just grab my bag”

Thomas hates leaving things half done, he would

Normally work till late at grandads.

Just as we stood up in total darkness something odd happened. A sudden wave of police sirens bleared through the streets. You know at night when you're trying to sleep and you hear those blue light sounds in the distance. You never really pay much attention because it's normal in the city. This wasn't like that, it was the sound of tens maybe hundreds of car sirens. No screaming like you would imagine, no sight of the lights just the noise. Above at least three helicopters circling around, making the house shake. This sudden disruption puts a little bit of fear even maybe a lot in my mind.

What is that?

“I have no idea Mia, it's dark”

It was only then that I realised everything was dark, not just this room, nit just this house but the entire street. Knole road was plunged into darkness.

What do we do Tom?

“Let's just go upstairs in case it's not safe out”

Thomas has always been a total wimp.

No Tom I'm going outside.

Grandad’s door sticks, you have to hold onto the little latch and pull hard in the right place or it will appear locked. As I rushed outside Tom following I looked down the hill towards London, not one person in the street, no cars or any of grandad’s neighbours.

As we started to walk down the hill towards the sirens that grew louder I noticed how the moon was bright. We take it for granted, it's so beautiful and big. It felt closer than ever before, somewhat comforting. Just as we got to the end of the road and London was out of sight the sky light up with flames. An explosion. A big one. It made this strange whipping sound like the earth had been struck by God. Flames filled the sky.

Thomas screamed at me, dragging me away towards grandads, we broke into a run all the way up hill.

“What was that?”

“How can that happen Mia?”

“Was that central London?”

“What do we do?”

I don't know Tom! We got to the gate just as the biggest blast of wind, dust, air came at us. So powerful it moved cars inches forward, the street was filled with noise now. Car sirens, house alarms, breaking windows. Still no people.  

“the Loft”

Thomas ran through the door and started to climb the stairs, it's dark. So dark, I had my feel my way up the stairs in such a panic I slid down two steps with a thud. I swear even in that moment of fear I heard Thomas laugh. Thomas starting to climb the ladder, looking around I could barely breath. So many strange thoughts running through my head, why is this happening? What is that smell? Where is everyone? Stupid answers to my own questions ran around in circles in my head. I gripped onto the ladder as I climbed up I could see a light of some kind. Through the landing into grandad’s room coming from the window, it was like a phone light, maybe a camera. I pulled the ladder up with a large amount of effort and no skill, it was hit in the loft. I could feel sweat dripping down my head and hitting my arms, I'm so out of shape. I used to run everyday after work, head phones in, tacky running clothes the whole lot. Now most days after work I just sit around waiting for something to happen, I guess in some way now it has.

Do you have a light?  

“Nope, I think my phones over by the rug.”

“Be careful though, it's covering the hole”

Thomas it's dead, literally nothing.  

“Sorry! I was listening to maroon five”  

“where's your phone?”

It's in the car, doesn't grandad have his fishing stuff up here?  

“In the boxes by the wall”

Found it.

I don't know if  it was the events of yesterday or the fact we was stuffed into a cluttered hot loft but my watch told me that me and Thomas had slept until eleven the next morning. My body ached from the lack of boarded space and my skin felt dry. I could taste well what Thomas described as history, I called it dust. We decided that the best thing to do was to keep calm and quite, the plan was to open the hatch, grab some food and water from the kitchen, sneak back up to the loft for a plan of action.  

Ready Thomas?  

“Sure, should we you know?”

He pointed to the pile of gold clubs.

I guess if you think that's a good idea?

“It couldn't hurt right?”

We let the hatch drop to an open, it hit the wall and echoed throughout grandad’s half empty half boxed up house.  

Thomas! It's dark.  

"That’s not possible, is it?"

The blast may have caused clouds to form, or maybe it’s raining

"Don’t you think sleeping in the loft we would hear if it was raining?"

We climbed down the ladder and walked towards grandad’s bedroom window, his room hadn't been touched since he died of heart disease last Monday. The room was stuffy and the air felt almost electric, like a storm was passing above our heads. Grandad’s bed still dressed in the same floral patterns, four old pillows stacked up in the middle where he used to sleep. The same yellow wall design from the stairs, dark brown bulky wardrobes in the corner of the room. Why does everyone over forty have those? The floor covered in his belongings that fell from the blast, or maybe the helicopters, the window had dusty netting draped along it. The street looks dark, we stood looking for what felt like an hour. My heart pounding in my chest with every beat anticipating something, anything. I can’t take this anymore Thomas, let's just go down stairs and get something to eat.  

“No wait Mia, there over there”  

There was that light again, something was flickering in the garden of the house opposite. I had no idea what it was, who it was. Should I be scared or was this all just in our heads, I mean sure we haven’t seen anyone in a while but really they could just have been doing the same as us. It could be a candle, someone’s keeping their house light up with candles. Probably those fancy smelling ones, the elderly love those candles right?

Thomas finally bulked up enough courage to follow me out the door, grandad’s camping light in hand we treaded slowly as if the ground below us could collapse at any second. Edging slowing across the road looking in every direction for someone, something. I couldn’t help but think about how funny this must all look to the people inside that house, two strangers tip toes across the road as if they were scared of the dark. The truth is I think Thomas is a little, it’s understandable the deafening silence of the street and frightening darkness of it all. The house looked the same as every house on knole road, except this one had an expensive looking car in the drive. A jaguar maybe, what an earth was a car like that doing in this town. Maybe he works in the city?  

As I knocked on the recently painted blue door it fell open, I wasn’t exactly knocking hard. After all the smallest bang echoed down the road, probably all the way to London. Should we go in?

“No! It might be trap by the terrorists”

Don’t be stupid Thomas, what would terrorists be doing here setting small traps for two locals?

“Well aliens then, trying to collect us to breed robot humans!”

Any other theories you would like to throw out there?

“Okay well it’s just plain rude to walk in on someone’s house isn’t it?”

I guess, if they’re home.  

We both looked back at the half opened door, I realised then that we’ve been here for what felt like ten minutes and not one sound came from that house. I decided to be bold and push the door wide open and call out, Hello! Anyone home? We’ve been over the road since yesterday, I was just wondering if you knew what was going on? Hello! Anyone? Please!

Tears slowly crawled down my face, my heart rate finally slowed down.

“Mia. Nobody is home”  

Just then the largest dog known to man came running down the stairs, his bark so loud it cut through me. Around his neck a star shaped light that flashed when he moved, it was for night time walking I suppose. The dog barked and barked as if to tell us to leave, its teeth widely on show as a warning. Thomas began to attempt to calm the dog, walking cautiously towards it. Each step he would praise the dog, calling it laisse as if by naming the dog it would be less vicious. “Calm down baby” “We won’t hurt you” “you’re just hungry aren’t you?” The dog stopped barking, its tail went down and it began to whine. Thomas grabbed his collar but the dog didn’t seem to be phased by him, the dog was focusing on something else. Something behind me. “He’s called Toby”  

The dog ran towards me, leaping in the air and pushing me to the floor. He ran off down the road towards London his barking growing louder and more intense every time. “Are you okay?” “That was crazy!”  

I think so.

As I leant up and looked towards the road where the dog had been staring, nothing. what did he see? Am I going crazy? This is why I like cats. I couldn’t see much Thomas had the camping light tight in his hands, I could still hear the dogs bark echoing from down the darkened road. He sounded like he had stopped running, focusing his bark on what he had seen behind me. Maybe his owner? Maybe his owner was so scared of us they ran away! That's logical right? Whatever it was I'm just glad it's gone. The dog let out a horrendously twisted cry, it went on for longer than I thought possible. Thomas and I knew exactly what it meant. He grabbed me off of the floor and we slammed the stranger’s door behind us. The glass pain in the door shook, “was that too loud?” He winced at me. In that moment I could truly see fear in Thomas, his eyes so dilated and bold. His hair sweaty and pushed back, lips pursed together as if he was forcing himself not to scream. Looking at him made me want to cry, my body felt like I was sinking into the ground. My heart started to race again, the never ending thumping against my chest, my eyes so strained from the lack of light made them sting.  

I grabbed the suit case, it was lighter than expected. This must hold some clues as to what’s going on or where the people from this house were going, we walked through the living room towards the kitchen. It was a modern house with lots of gadgets that are now rendered useless without power, the kitchen has a working fridge although it continuously beeped to remind humans that it’s back up won’t last forever. We grabbed some cheese, bread and bottled water. Thomas searched through the draws and found more batteries, a torch and some birthday candles.    

“Do we risk going over the road again?”

I don’t know, let’s just check upstairs out and eat some food.

We walked back through the extravagate living room, up the wooden stairs and into the bathroom. I figured it would have the best lock in the house. The morning has turned into the afternoon and still the sky looked the same through the frosted windows. Thomas went through the bathroom cabinet as I broke off chunks of cold cheese and scoffed them down, I’m so hungry. I missed my friend Jane, she works with me at the stupid office. It’s really un-meaningful work but Jane makes it fun, she sends me rude jokes and chucks the odd stationary item at me when she thinks nobody is watching. I especially missed my cat, it sounds sad I know but he is so cuddly and always so playful.  

The afternoon turned into night without any new noises or lights, the suitcase was a bust, just clothes. Swimming costumes and cardigans. The normal getaway case for any girl taking a trip away. The only useful item was some dry shampoo, Thomas insisted I left some money for the food in case we later had to pay the consequences of entering their home. I wrote a note:

Dear sir/madam  

Me and my brother ate some of your nice cheese, I think it was Bree but I am uneducated in the cheese area. It was very nice and I have left you some money. I hope you’re not too mad, your door was open and your dog attacked me. He seemed very upset about something. Perhaps next time you go out you should lock your door and take the dog.

Thanks you for the food

Concerned citizen, Mia.  

I decided we should run back to grandads, gather all the food he had left and climb back into the loft. As we left the house it felt colder than before, the moon finally decided to show its face, as a conscience the street looked a lot less horrifying. Maybe this was all just in our heads after all? I locked grandad’s door and even stuck a couple of boxes in front of them, using the new torches Thomas found we split up. I gathered all the food, utensils, and batteries. Thomas grabbed bedding, jumpers then filled the bath with water. He saw on television once that in the event of an emergency it’s important to fill everything you have with water before its shut off. We took Grandads can opener with the intensions of unpacking all his fishing gear, I knew he had a little gas cooker. Whilst I set up some questionable beds Thomas searched through Grandads boxes, we shut off all of the torches but one. The room felt a lot smaller now and the air was cold, almost like frost was growing over the roof tiles above, the air felt thin as well as thick. A strange wetness about everything you touch, Like water was seeping out of my skin.

Thomas found a wind up radio, he turned the little crank slowing as if it was a delicate job. All our questions are finally going to be answered, he flicked the switch on then begun to scroll through frequency's, nothing came out but black and white fuzz. Scrolling past stations than fell silent, large companies who even in the worst situations I've known continue to broadcast. I felt anticipation for something, anything. Anxiety would have been a better word. How can there be nothing Thomas? Where do we even go from here  

"let's just keep listening, maybe the aerial is broken?"  

It's entirely plausible that it is just a cheap radio, it was only little; the size of a torch and a bold green colour. We left it on a silent station. The local London station that normally broadcasts bad music and lot's of traffic updates. I slipped under the covers turned off the light, silently waiting, always waiting for something. The radio begun to fade out slowly, I guessed it was running out of power. Thomas are you awake? How can he sleep like this, with everyone gone. It doesn't add up, no bodies, no warning. Everything seemed normal yesterday morning, life was just standard. I went to work, had my performance review. Graded a strong member of the team, achieved bonus for the month, finally sorted through my emails. I even ordered a new microwave, dam. I guess that's not coming now, with nobody to deliver it, oh and no power to use it. I wasn't looking forward to going to grandad's house, I mean it is depressing. Packing up someone's entire life in boxed, chucking out all the things he deemed worthy to keep but we don't. I drove straight here after work, only stopping off to get our dinner. It wasn't as busy as it usually is but I figured it's Friday. My stomach was growling, my eyes still so sore. I don't know if I can handle this anymore, part of me thinks It's all so stupid. That we should just drive into central and find someone.  

The loft hatch began to shake, only slightly but enough for me to sit up. Thomas was gone, I called out for him but my voice had been taken away from me. Normally something like that would strike up an unimaginable amount of fear and panic in me, for some reason I felt still and calm. I was scared sure, just not uncontrollably scared. I looked around as much as I could, the room still dark, the camping light and torches were gone. Maybe with Thomas? The skylight window offered a limited light from the bright moon, something was scraping at the hatch. Like a dog but bigger, how can it even reach the hatch without the ladder. I crawled closer, trying to peak through the tiny gaps now appearing were the hatch meets the wooden floor. The scraping turned into a fit of rage, something was now smashing into the wood, tearing away chunks. I finally screamed, so loud. Everything in my body went numb, my voice not breaking from the scream. I flung my body under Grandad's bedding, like a child hiding from a storm. Catching my breath under the covers, something climbed into the loft with me. I'm not alone anymore, claw sounds scratched against the floor as it came towards me. I have nowhere to go, nothing to protect myself with. It's breathing heavy like a dog's, it's heat projecting towards me. I felt a weighted mass climb up onto my legs, crushing them slightly. I tried to pull them out from under, I'm too weak. It's now laying on me, I pulled back the covers. It wasn't lying on me, it was standing over me with four chunky legs and jet black eyes. Four bony arms, one looked rotten. It's face almost entirely covered in thick mould, maybe even moss. Each arm has a hand, four fingers and one thumb. Like a human but with long finger nails covered in black dirt. It's body looked skinny and pale in the moon light, What are you? It didn't make a sound, it just raised one of it's arms and impaled me with it's nails.

"Mia! Wake up!" Thomas awoke me from the worst dream that I've ever had.  

"Mia seriously, listen!"

Gasping for air, soaked in sweat. I tried to calm myself and listen. The radio. It was playing music, it was a classical song. The one from the theme park advert, it was both exciting and menacing. I started to laugh, for the first time me and Thomas goofed around a little. Dancing around the loft, trying not to hit our heads on the low beams. The song went on for what felt like the end of time, playing with out emotions.  

"Mia did the song just-"  

It's on a loop! Why would someone do this?  

"at least it's something though, someone must be out there"  

We aren't alone anymore.

I felt myself becoming tearful, my heart sped up again. The pounding of eternity, just when things start to feel better something comes along and reminds me that my own worst nightmare is me. I've suffered from anxiety attacks my entire life, from silly things like calling the bank to driving alone. I've always pretended I'm someone else, like an actor playing the role of a confident young lady. I don't want to be that girl anymore, I want to take risks in life, get promotions, put myself out there. My watch had stopped but I think it was about six in the morning, I told Thomas about my dream. All he said was that grandad doesn't have a window in his loft, I couldn't help but think he was hiding something from me. The day felt as dark as my thoughts, today we have to leave. I cannot spend another hour in this loft, cramped up to my darling brother.  

We opened the hatch for the last time, it made it's normal fud against the wall. Letting down the chunky metal ladder; I through down the radio and some of grandads fishing gear, I figured the camping fire and tools might come in useful. We climbed down the ladder, still dark. Where has the sun gone, this doesn't make sense? The boxes at the front door had been knocked over maybe by someone trying to get in, I couldn't careless at this moment in time. Looking for my bag in the dark living room. Must find my car keys."That's strange Mia, the boxes have been pushed over" "Why didn't we hear-" Thomas I really don't have the energy to care right now.  

I know I'm being rude, this is just getting all too much. Where are my stupid keys, I'm sure as hell not walking back to central. I through boxes of china around, the poor light made it almost impossible to find my car keys. Breaking plates and angry slurs from my mouth filled the room. "try to keep it down sis" NO! I've had enough. The door creaked open from a strange gust of wind, the cold air gave me a deep chill running up my spine. Why is the door open? "I told you the boxes were pushed over" We both stared at each other for a while, the door now wide open.  

"I'm sorry to bother you, I can see you're a little busy" A figure had appeared in the doorway, tall shadowy figure. He spoke with an athorative tone, almost like he would be a police man, or maybe a security guard at the national art gallery. I picked up a plate, I know it seems like a pathetic weapon of choice but there wasn't anything else around. Thomas shone his torch light at his face. "I live just down the road, well I am unsure but I think I've been asleep for almost three days now" He looked about twenty seven I think, I'm not very good at guessing ages. He was wearing a white shirt with a black skinny tie, black skinny jeans and brown brogues. Clean shaven with short dark hair and bright hazel eyes, he was a cliché beautiful person.  

"you're the first person we've seen for days, where do you live?" Thomas shouted at him.  

"listen guys, what's going on, I haven't been able to use my phone and the powers out"  

What's your name?

"I'm Peter night" he said looking around the room

What are you looking for Peter night?

"I thought I saw something, that's why I'm here." He spoke a little softer than before.

Saw what?

"It doesn't matter, are you guys going somewhere?" He asked

Thomas shouted again, and before I knew it this stranger was coming with us. We gave up on my keys and decided to take Peter's truck. The air felt a lot warmer now, I started to sweat a little, drips of salty tasting liquid fell from my forehead. I don't know why but this made me even more anxious, maybe it was because Peter although strange, was probably the most attractive man I've ever laid my eyes on. His skin looked soft and tanned, a smile so perfect it could light up an entire street. Wait, that's not his smile. Guys! The street! It's....glowing! Peter ran out first, he began to shout "NO, JESUS NO, MY HOUSE, PLEASE NO" I pushed past Thomas who was standing silently with his mouth open, Peter's house was on fire. The flames leaped well above the height of the house, dancing in the sky like fireworks. Black smoke escaped the house gracefully turning white as it reached the nights sky, Peter's cries for help faded out of focus, all I could concentrate on was the sinister sound of the crackling house. It consumed me, the fire was so beautiful, like somehow it was clenseing my soul of all anxieties, all it's deepest fears. Reaching depths of my mind that I never knew existed before, something in me wanted to change. Let go of it all, become the girl that other people are scared of, the type of girl to walk down dark alleys alone at night.

Thomas grabbed my arm pulling tearing me away from the only sense of paradise I will ever feel, he pulled me towards Grandads house. "Mia just listen to me, where is your car? Where is peters truck?" The street is empty, not even that Jager we saw is here anymore. The sky seemed lighter now, like the sun was finally returning to us. "Mia, what are we going to do?" Thomas sounded hysterical. We will have to walk Thomas, Peter let's go. I'm not staying here any longer than we have to. "I can't just let my house burn Mia Peter sounded angry, like somehow this was my fault. What are you going to do call the fire brigade? I know I shouldn't have said it but it just slipped out of my mouth. I cringed at myself waiting for his reply. "Fine, but we go to the train station" he said with a monotone voice. "Why, there wont be anyo-" Peter cut off Thomas and explained that although he didn't expect the train to be running it was a more direct route to central. He planned to leave us when we got to the waterloo to go look for his grandparents, he spoke like nothing mattered anymore. What was in his house that meant so much to him?  

We started to walk up the hill away from  central London, no smoke above central since the first day of the explosions. This must have meant that either someone put out any fires or that the explosion was controlled in some way. I walked infront of Tom and Peter pretending that I was content on being alone, I could hear them talking about Peter's job. From what I could make out he was a glorified web designer, making banking applications for mobile phones and tablets. He earned enough to buy a house out right in edges of London, drove a large truck and played lot's of video games. Thomas seemed to like Peter but I couldn't help thinking they were hiding something, they spoke softly at times so that I couldn't hear. I know paranoia this isn't paranoia. Being paranoid is when you think someone is following you, or checking your food isn't poisoned. I heard my name a couple of times. Did you say my name? "erm yeah, just slow down Mia. We don't want to lose you!" Thomas acted as if everything was normal, but I knew it wasn't. The street was cold, dark and somehow wet although haven't seen rain since it all started. That's rare for England, The houses looked normal; as if nothing had happened. I felt like knocking on each door asking for some help, maybe people where just hiding. I mean Peter was home right?  

We reached the top of the hill, Thomas and Peter standing next to me we looked down on Crayford. It's a small down connecting to Kent and London, there was nobody around. Only a few cars scattered around but bursting with flames, the air smelt of smoke and strangely petrichor. It was exactly twelve twenty when we reached the sports outlet, Thomas thought that we could all do with some better clothing for the long walk we had ahead of us. We were ignorant to approach the building so quickly without calculating the best vantage points. The doors were suppose to be automatic however without power they were midway closed, I could squeeze through but I honestly didn't want to. Peter and Thomas pushed and pulled at the sliding door, trying to force them open. I found a large rock and just through it at the glass doors. They shattered in front of us, Thomas yelling at me and peter rushing us inside as if we were not alone. I don't know why I did it, I just did. Something maybe the fact it was getting all too tedious caused me to smash the doors. I'm growing ever tired of not having answers, I've had no food or sleep for what feels like weeks.  

The store was giant and intimidating, like a somehow it felt like it was better than me. I know that sounds stupid there was just something about that place that didn't feel right. Peter stormed off in a tantrum towards the shoes near the front, trying on ridulosly lavish styles. Throwing the ones that didn't fit him on the floor, Thomas yelled towards him "Try to not trash the place Petey" Petey, what they're friends now. "Hey, I need a new wardrobe, mine went up in flames" he laughed at himself. Thomas I'm going to look at the girls clothes, I walked off down the middle of the store, just a little torch we found at the neighbours in hand. The store didn't have iles it was more of a large jumble sale, racks of reduced hideous clothing. Track suits and trainers aren't really my style but who cares, Peters a dick and Thomas is my brother. Nobody to impress anymore, I found a beige blouse and some denim dungaree's. A large baggy jumper and some high-top black boots, I stuffed them into a backpack then headed towards the changing room.  

The changing room was plastered in pretty people posters, young teenagers with blonde hair and perfect bodies surfing the great waves of some unknown sea. Red velvet curtains covering the little sections that people change in, walking slowing down to the end one so that Peter couldn't see me I heard something. Crying, someone or something was crying. I hoped to god that it wasn't Thomas, the lobby smelt of new clothes and the floor was wet. I took half steps towards the crying, each footstep squelching on the damp floor. I called out a couple of times, "Are you okay Thomas?" My torch gave off a low orange light, only circling on what you focused it on; I could see coat hangers, baskets full of clothes as if people had dropped them and ran. The crying stopped, I could only assume Thomas had become embarrassed. I grabbed the curtain and pulled it back slowly, it was soft but cheap. The type you would find at a school, my socks felt damp from all the water. I didn't scream nor run, I just froze staring at her. She was so white in the face, her body covered in blood, similar to the red velvet curtains. Her eyes had been ripped from her skull, teeth scattered on the floor. I imagined they would crunch under my weight, something had ripped her to pieces. Chunks of flesh everywhere, like she has been put into a blender without the lid on. Dried blood spatters across the white walls of the cubicle, an arm missing. Bones showing from every part of her body, was she eaten? I didn't do anything. I just let go of the curtain and walked back into the shop. So much to think over, so much to contemplate, nothing made sense. Why was she dead, her body torn apart and hung up for someone to see. Was she left for me?  

“Nice jumper” Thomas mocked me. They found me laying behind the till counter, I could hear them calling my name. I just wasn't in the mood to respond, the store was huge. The front was covered  mainly In glass with tall sale posters in every window pane, manikins styling sporting outfits, rails made the place look untidy and claustrophobic. The word sale splatter on every wall, rail, window even clothing items. The longer I looked at the word the more my brain played tricks on me. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. It was everywhere one moment and gone the next. I knew that seeing that girl would mess with me,  I just didn't know how. I felt so angry, it was building inside me. I could feel myself pushing back the rage packing it tightly inside my stomach almost making me nauseous. I got myself in such a state I couldn't decided if I was holding back anger or actual vomit, actually. It's vomit. My mouth jolted open and dark bile fell all over Peter. "What the hell Mia!" He wasn't happy. He marched away cursing my name, calling me a stupid girl. A pile of thick dark liquid laying on the floor infront of me, I've never seen sick like this before. Thomas patted me on the back whilst getting up to chase after him, I could hear Thomas trying to calm Peter down. He's so rude, both of them.

Peter

"Look, I know she's your sister but-"

"Yeah she is, so just leave it alone" Thomas cut me off

We sat on the floor outside the changing rooms, I kept playing with the laces on my shoes whilst Thomas picked up a barrel of golf balls he knocked by accident.  

"Listen your sister isnt right, you know that right" the words just slipped out of my mouth.  

"She's my sister Peter" He was pissed at me.

"Well there is something...."  

"Go on buddy?"  

I hate it when people do this, it's like why the pause, or when people say I know something I cant tell you.

"She said she had a dream, where something was scratching at the loft door trying to get in and-"

"Why was you sleeping in the loft!" I couldn't help myself but ask.

"and it impaled her with something, well I didn't think anything of it at the time"  

Thomas paused for a while

"But well, when we left the loft there was these claw like marks on the top of the hatch" He looked scared.

"It was like something was trying to get out, not in" He started to laugh nervously.

"It's stupid right"

I just smiled at him, I mean something isn't right with that girl but I highly dought she's a young wolf. I chucked a golf ball at him and our eyes met, he looked sad. It's understandable, he's got a freak for a sister and the worlds gone to shit. Well presumably gone to shit, I'm still holding out for a decent explanation.  

We decided to check out the staff room, maybe there was food or a vending machine. Mia was laying on the floor next her gross sick, probably feeling sorry for herself. "Listen Mia, I over reacted.....I'm sorry" I pulled a dopey smile at her.  

"Look Peter, pull that shit again and you're on your own" She had a nasty face on her, god I hope she slips in her sick. Tom jumped over the till counter and knocked on the staff room door. "Hello, anyone in there?" He shouted with a geeky look on his face. Mia pushed past him and tried to open the door, it was locked. A silver keypad with numbers and letters. "Now what boys?" I started to type in random sequences like the classic 0000, of course nothing happened. Mia was looking through the draws on the counter, she was chucking things around and Thomas was picking them up. The door has a tall sheet on safety glass in it, althought it was so dark inside I could only just make out a table. Something was laying on the floor next to it. I asked Tom is I could borrow his torched and started to look around the room leaning my head against the window pane, a table sat in the center of the room with five brightly coloured chairs  tuc

[skylerastevens]

The Kid

He, a nineteen-year-old boy, opened his rusty truck door for her, his forty-three-year-old date. He scooted half of his belongings off the passenger seat: an empty cologne bottle where he hid his larger bills, a pale mug shaped as a tit with a nipple to drink from, last year’s old mail (or was it this year’s?), and the unopened card his mom had sent him a few days ago for his eighteenth birthday. Then, with a gentlemanly gesture, he took her hand and helped her to her seat; she was smiling.

The boy opened the back door next and sat her five-year-old kid in the middle seat and strapped him in. The kid, squirmy, gnawed and sucked the head of those rubber chickens which squeaked if squeezed, especially the head. Some drool dripped onto the boy’s fingers as he buckled the booster last belt of the booster seat. He nearly hurled, his tongue falling out. Luckily, she didn’t notice.

The boy shut the door, hard enough to be cathartic, soft enough for her not to notice. Then he got into the driver’s seat hidden with a black seat cover, something cheap to keep her from noticing the cracked, scratched leather. If he wasn’t good enough, she would leave. That’s how women are.

He turned the ignition. He had to turn it again. From the rear-view mirror dangled a pair of her panties, the black ones from the time they escaped to downtown for the weekend. For some reason, the kid’s father agreed to keep him for the weekend. She had paid for the hotel, he had paid for some things: a Los Angeles lanyard and a single meal at Red Robbins. It was their best time yet and he wanted her to remember it every time she got in the car.  

The boy adjusted the mirror (not the side ones because he didn’t want her to realize how non-automatic the car was) and backed out of her driveway and was off.

“So,” she asked, “where’re we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he smiled. When he looked at her—whenever he looked at her—he always noticed those huge motherly tits, especially in moments like this when she wore a low v-neck to unveil her deep cleavage. The shirt hugged her waist too and she didn’t have a muffin top or any roll or any fat in the wrong places. She may be forty-three, but damn she looked fucking good.

“Mommy, I have to pee-pee,” the kid said. The boy glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. The kid had his legs bent inward and his hand on his crotch like he was about to explode. But, he still had the chicken hanging between his teeth

“Baby, you just went,” she said turning back to face him. He screamed, “I gotta go again!” She mouthed to the boy, “I’m sorry,” then said, “Just suck the chicken. It will make it go away, okay?” The boy admired her care for the kid, how she had at least stuck with him even though she was all alone to take care of him. Yet, that kid talked to much and thought he was the center of the world. He should just be happy he’s got a mom.   “Okay,” the kid said. He actually shut up. There was some time and then she pulled down the sun visor and review herself in the mirror. Some extra lipstick, eye makeup, some powder on her cheeks. Then she said, “Do you think I look alright?” “Oh, yeah,” the boy said. “You’re smokin’ tonight, babe.” He went to place his hand on her thigh, but she moved her leg as if to avoid it, probably nervous because of her son’s presence. Normally, the boy and the lady just went to the park when she couldn’t find a sitter. The boy’s hand still landed. But the compliment must’ve made her happy because she still smiled and smiled big. So big, her lips pulled back so her he could see the extra yellow in her teeth where they met her gums. She smoked cigarettes, drank alcohol. They both did.

“Why is there underwear there?” The kid was pointing towards the mirror. The boy said what came to mind, “They’re my backup.” It must have lightened the mood. She laughed and put her hand on her face. “Why do you need backup?” “Just sometimes I do,” the boy said. The kid asked, “Do you poop your pants?” She kept laughing. The boy never did. Only a couple more minutes. “Nope,” the boy said. She leaned forward to grab something from the floor. As her back bent, the line between her shirt and pants revealed some good, tan skin. The boy could almost follow the trail of her skin to her ass. Such a good ass. She picked up the tit mug and said, “I’ve never seen this before.” “Ha, yeah, that was my dad’s.” The boy glanced at it then back at the road. “He gave it to me before he passed. It’s kind of like a family heirloom.” “My oldest son would love this,” she said to herself. The boy believed her oldest son was about his age. He hoped not more than that. He never wanted to ask. The kid was still talking when they arrived at Boomers, but the boy and the kid’s mom were ignoring him at this point. Well, she was ignoring him in the way she normally did by saying, “Keep sucking your chicken.” The boy said “ta-dah” when they pulled into the parking lot because it was where they had first met exactly one month ago. It was perfect for their one month. She laughed weakly, looked at the boy, hid her head behind the headrest so her son could not see, and fashioned her purple painted like a kiss. It was cute. Maybe a prediction. Maybe another one of her so-called “mating calls.” They parked and walked into Boomers. The boy held her hand at first, but the kid grabbed her other hand so the boy let go. The boy paid for them all. There was no discount for the kid; he was extra twelve dollars. The boy received his four dollars of change, left no tip. Beside his savings in the cologne bottle, it was all he had slaved for that week and now one of his marijuana plants hidden in the back of his truck had died from being kept under the Tarp for too long. They walked first towards the go-karts outside the back of the building, the engines buzzing over the kids talking and talking. The boy’s hands felt sweaty so he wiped his along his jeans as his hands swayed with his walk. When the kid rushed ahead, past the benches and up to the fence where the go-kart employee stood, the boy reached for his date’s hand. She took it, clamped it. It lasted five seconds ‘cause the kid turned around. After that, her arms were fucking crossed.

But it was okay once the kid got onto the go-karts and raced a few laps. When he’d get to the far end of the track, the boy would sneak a kiss in with her. It was even better because the kid asked if he could go again and she said yes so they got to kiss some more. The boy even smacked her ass and she didn’t seem to mind it. The boy wanted to ask her if she wanted to go to the bathroom, lock the door, do the thing they do at the park, but the kid was done racing and begged to go play arcade games. Whatever.  So they went inside watched the kid k.o. Marshall Law and Devil Jin, shoot down the velociraptors and tyrannosauruses, and mutilate zombies after zombies. He actually sucked, but his mom told him he was good and he believed it. 

The kid remembered after all those hours he had to go to the bathroom so boy and the woman escorted him there. Then the boy said, “You and me, let’s go,” and he bumped the side of his hip against hers and nodded towards the woman’s restroom.

“We don’t have time for that,” she said. “He’ll be out soon.”

“Then he’ll be alone for like thirty seconds, it’s fine. Come on just a little.” He kissed her neck, followed her arm with his finger.

“No, it’s not.” She backed away, turned around, crossed her arms again.

The boy said, “Oh, my god. No need to be a bitch about it,” and he stomped straight out of Boomers, ignoring the “Come back anytime,” from the worker with the blue collared shirt, and got into his truck, red faced. 

For thirty minutes he sat there, his hands clenched around the steering wheel, fingers stiff from squeezing so long. He should just leave. She was likely in there laughing with her kid, playing all the games with him, giving him all the attention he wanted. That stupid, fucking kid. She did everything for him. Why for him too? He was annoying, not even a good kid. She would wipe his ass when he went “ number two.” Oh my god, that kid needed to grow up. But, at least she didn’t leave him like the boy’s mom had done. Damn, that kid was so lucky he had no idea. He got all the attention he wanted.

Then she appeared from Boomer’s front door, the kid’s hand in hers. She made him look both ways for cars. She approached the car and the boy locked the car.

She knocked on the window. “Christ, really?” It sounded muffled through the glass barrier.

“Yeah, really.” He flipped her off. He meant it for the kid too so he held his hand high enough on the glass so he might see it too.

She yelled, “Hey!” She turned her kid around like a good mom would. “You’re acting like a kid. Are you really doing this?”

The boy said nothing. He just looked straight ahead.

“You know what, fine. It’s over. Screw you. You’re a f—” she was about to say “fucking,” but the kid—“You’re a hothead.”

He said back, “You don’t get to say it’s over. I say it’s over. And it’s over!” He yelled. It fogged a part of the glass. Then, he turned the ignition, jerked it into reverse, and backed out. Before he knew it, he was on the freeway, leaving her. She wasn’t leaving him. He wouldn’t let her like his mom did years ago. He’d never let anyone leave him again. Instead, he would be the one who leaves.