#and it's the classic stuck in a snow storm plot!!

[the-greatest-magic-of-all]

Frightful Snow & Delightful Fire

○ fandom: fantasy high

○ main pairing: fabriz (fabian x riz)

○ characters: fabian | riz

○ genre/warnings: fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort

○ tags: Snowed In | Pining | Sharing a Bed | Post-Campaign 01 Season 02: Fantasy High Sophomore Year (Dimension 20) | Fabian Aramais Seacaster-centric | because Riz is out of commission for a lot of this | Fabian goes through the ringer baby! | Mentioned The Bad Kids (Dimension 20) | Fabian's Fire Elemental | In before Junior Year!

○ word count: 7,454

→ summary: Lost in a blizzard and separated from the rest of the party, Fabian does his best to keep Riz safe while trudging through snowbanks until he happens upon a lonely cottage...

○ note: y'all this was supposed to be short. I hope you enjoy it though!

White.

That’s all Fabian could see.

For miles and miles, all around, as he trudged through banks of snow across the mountainside despite the fall of night. In his mind, thoughts raced about, weaving in and out of the forefront of it like waves lapping at a shore.

Most were complaints and grievances over the chill seeping into his bones. The pieces of snow sneaked into his boots when one slipped deeper than expected into the heaps of snow. There was one thought that never left, though. That he kept repeating endlessly, like a broken record.

A prayer.

One to any deity that would listen.

To Cassandra.

To Helio or Sol.

Anyone.

A desperate plea for a sign, no matter how slight, that he was heading the right way.

He’d been sure of it back when he and Riz had first escaped the abyssal cultists’ sanctum. Stumbling out of a secret passage and into the harsh cold of an unforeseen blizzard, they’d only had seconds to decide before they either froze or got caught.

As thunderous, frosty winds buffeted their bodies and bellowed in their ears, they bickered about their next move. Seeing as splitting up hadn’t been the Bad Kids’ plan going in. But, then again, when had any of their plans ever gone off without a hitch? At least they’d had enough shrewdness to set a rendezvous point at The Last Boulder Inn in the Dwarven village they’d set out from last.

“We didn’t account for not being able to get to the rendezvous point, did we?” Riz yelled over the wind, clutching the artifact they’d stolen (An ancient tome of some kind, don’t ask him.) close to his chest, shielding it from the blizzard the best he could.

Faint shouts began to stir from the tunnel behind them, interrupting any quip Fabian could’ve shot back. Barkings of orders in Infernal—no, he’s heard The Hangman and Gorthalax speak it too many times—in Abyssal. And they were growing louder and louder despite the wind doing its best to drown them out. The cultists. Both of their eyes widened as they looked at the closed secret door, back at each other, and then all around.

Fabian soon realized that even at his height he couldn’t find any substantial path. So, he turned to Riz and said, “Get on my shoulders, see if you can spot a path or a-a cave or, or, or something!”

Passing off the tome to him, Riz scaled Fabian with practiced ease. Only thrown off slightly by the force of the winds, but he got up there nonetheless. The cultists’ cries of anger grew in volume in the panicked yet empty moments of searching.

“There!” Riz shouted from above, sticking out a gloved hand toward something Fabian couldn’t see. “There’s a cabin about a mile, maybe two away from here. We can make it. I know we can.”

“Well, you’re not making it anywhere. Take this,” Fabian shoved the tome back into Riz’s arms before he dropped to one knee. Slinging his backpack off of his shoulders. Zipping it open, he presented the open compartment to Riz. “And get in.”

Riz’s eyes went wide. “But—”

“In this sort of weather, the safest place for you and that book to be is in my backpack.” He said, desperation tinging what authority he tried to have in this moment. “The Ball, your tiny legs aren’t going to be able to keep up with me. Not in snow this deep and gales this strong. Get. In.”

Riz stared at the bag with a scowl before he let out a hiss and shoved his briefcase in the bag before getting in himself. “You’re heading due east, okay? Due. East. With all the ridges and slopes, it’s gonna feel like you’re going the wrong way but I promise you aren’t.” And a second before Fabian zipped it up after him, Riz poked his head out and said, “Oh, and remember—”

“Three pats on my bag if I’m going to open it because if I don’t you’ll shoot me.”

Riz grinned wide, his eyes sparkling. “Best Friends.”

“That’s quite enough out of you.” With a pointed zip of his bag, Fabian hauled his backpack onto his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he took a glance at Riz’s compass, due northeast, before setting off.

That must’ve been an hour ago.

Maybe longer.

He’d lost sensation in his nose, ears, and cheeks about fifteen minutes in, which was a blessing in some ways. No longer having to endure how the blizzard’s winds whipped and lashed against them. Such strong gusts that a stray thought settled in the back of Fabian’s mind of clothes torn by icy currents and boots rent by frozen snow.

About twenty minutes in, his fingers had gone numb as well, even with his gloved hands. More of a bane than the others, he’d been shaking so badly that, at some point, he’d dropped Riz’s compass. But he couldn’t stop to look for it. He couldn’t stop at all. Because if he did, he wouldn’t start again and if he didn’t start moving again…

Well, best not to think too hard about it. All he had to do was keep moving in the direction Riz had told him to. He’d said there was a cabin, so there must be a cabin. Fabian just has to make it there.

So, he kept trudging. One step after another. Through the mountainside, half frozen, enduring Constitution saving throw after saving throw. Making each one by the skin of his teeth. He crossed his fingers that Riz was as successful as he, though he didn’t know many Rogues with high Constitution scores.

At that thought, he faltered in his strenuous stride. In the crook of two hills whose sides rose well above his head, blocking his vision from anything but the bright grey sky. He stopped. Yelling was a pointless thing to do in a blizzard as severe as this one turned out to be, but Fabian had no other choice. He wouldn’t risk slinging his bag off of his shoulder and opening it up.

One, because he’s semi-convinced that his backpack has frozen to his thick jacket and he couldn’t take it off even if he wanted to. And two, exposing Riz to this cold would certainly finish him off if the failed saving throws hadn’t.

Yelling it was then.

“The Ball?”

No response. He didn’t yell as loud as he could’ve. So, Fabian tried again.

“The Ball!”

The howling wind swirling around him seemed oh so much fiercer and vociferous in the absence of a response. Even faster than it had been beating already, Fabian’s heart picked up speed.

“Riz!” Fabian shouted behind him, his voice shaking. “Riz, talk to me!”

A beat of silence, of stillness. Not that of a calming lake or the morning after winter’s first snow but the silence and stillness of a long-dead corpse. Another beat. And another. It’s only when fear spiked in Fabian’s heart and he jolted his backpack around, trying to get it off, that Riz’s voice reached his ears. Barely making it over the wind.

“I’m fine,” Came Riz’s voice, muffled and weak. Fabian could almost cry at the sound of it. “Just keep going, I’m… fine. We’re almost there, right?”

“Of course, we are.” He lied, his proud voice ringing out into the night because what else could he have said? ‘No, he’s starting to think he’s been walking in circles and that they’re going to freeze to death in the Mountains of Chaos’. Don’t be stupid. “I can see the cottage now. We’ll be out of the cold in no time at all.”

“Told ya. K-knew you could do it.”

Oh.

An epiphany struck him like a well-packed snowball to the face.

He’d thought that if he stopped in all this frost and fury he’d never get himself moving again. But after that, how could he have ever not started moving again?

Gazing up the snowy hill before him, the steepest he’d encountered yet, he resettled Riz on his back, took a deep breath of sharp, frigid air, and set off once more.

Reinvigorated by Riz’s conviction in him, Fabian began climbing up the side of the icy hill. He caught himself several times, seconds before he slipped and fell. Wondering if this is what Kristen meant about all that “As Above, So Below” Cleric business. How her faith, even as a single mortal, was enough to revitalize an entire deity. Simply because she wholeheartedly, unshakably believed in them.

Cresting the hill’s peak, he found not only a plateauing terrain and a sparse grove of evergreens but also a dark, ramshackle, old cottage. As he took in the sight of a sanctuary, Fabian knew he would never underestimate the power of belief. Or perhaps he’d never underestimate the power of Riz Gukgak.

It took three good shoves to burst through the cottage’s frozen door and another to get to shut it again.

Slumped with his shoulder still pressed to the door, Fabian’s laboured pants echoed out in the quiet of the stone cottage. The howls and groans of the blizzard still rang in his ears despite how muted they sounded now. As he inhaled and exhaled ever-shaky breaths, his eyes scanned the place.

Dusty.

Everything in the cottage was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. In the center of the wall to his left was a sizable fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in forever. A frightful-looking bed sat in the far corner. Made up of only a thin mattress, a threadbare blanket and a pillow. Which only left the tiny kitchen beside him on his right that spiders had long since colonized. Oh, and a crotchety chair that sat lonely at a rickety table next to it.

Whoever had lived here, had lived alone. But they didn’t anymore, live here that is. Not for many months, probably.

No pissed-off homeowners to run into then. A small blessing.

Alright. No rest for the wicked.

Pushing off of the door with a wince at his aching muscles, Fabian stalked toward the center of the cottage near the fireplace. Beginning the process of detaching his backpack from his back. As gently as he could, he placed his bag down next to the unlit hearth and collapsed into a heap beside it.

Giving the side of the bag the three pats required to signal safety to Riz, he buried his numb face in his numb hands and groaned.

“Ugh, remind me to never go mountaineering again, The Ball. Never again. I swear I had a more pleasurable time trekking through a literal Nightmare Forest than I just did through all that fucking snow. This book better be worth it or I solemnly swear to throw Adaine and her high Arcana checks off the nearest cliff. You hear me, The Ball! Off a very steep, very snowy cliff! Like to see her Portents save her from that. Ha-ha!”

The beat of silence that came after Fabian’s little rant stretched on for far longer than he thought it would. The acute quiet, well, disquieted him. Made his stomach churn and chest tighten. He had good reason to be anxious right now. They’d almost frozen to death in a blizzard and got separated from their friends. Oh, if the rest of the Bad Kids were here, perhaps this wouldn’t feel so bad.

“Do you think she and the others made it out alright? I mean, I have no doubt that Gorgug had those weird cultists handled with his axe and Kristen has all her anti-evil Cleric spells but… Adaine or Fig would’ve messaged one of us if something went really wrong, right? Of course. Of course, they would’ve. So if they haven’t that means they’re fine. Hopefully, all this blizzard shit will let up in the morning and we’ll all make it to that inn in one piece. If not…well, if not…”

Another beat of silence.

“The Ball? Isn’t this where you chime in with one of your numerous and lengthy backup plans?”

Fabian turned around and peered at his now unsettlingly still backpack. He called out again, “Riz?”

Crawling over to it, already flinching away just in case a stray bullet flew out, he hesitantly zipped his backpack open.

Fabian gasped.

Riz’s body trembled as his tail curled up around the tome. His eyes were closed tight while one hand gripped his gun, his fingers having long turned blue. Almost every inch of his visible soft green skin was tinged an icy blue, including his tightly wound tail. He’d failed nearly every Constitution saving throw, taking on exhaustion fivefold.

Worse yet, he’s still making them.

One more failure and he’d—

Fabian bolted to his feet, his heart racing once more.

How should he fix this? What could he do? He wasn’t a high enough level Bard yet to be able to cast Greater Restoration and even if he was, he could only feasibly remove a single level of exhaustion. If he couldn’t remove them… then the only thing to do was prevent Riz from getting his sixth and final level.

Steeling himself with a breath and a look at a freezing Riz, who always believed in him so fiercely, Fabian was prepared to do anything and everything to save him.

Quicker than he thought he could with sensationless fingers, he unbuttoned and ripped off his thick, fur jacket. Uncovering his battle sheet. Thanks to the carefully wrapped Elven silk, heated by his inner fire elemental, he’d been making all those Con saving throws with advantage. Riz needed it much more than he did right now.

Ignoring how the chill of the cottage raised goosebumps on his exposed arms and caused shivers down his spine, Fabian got to work. Scooping Riz out of the backpack and into his arms, he felt like a block of ice. And once Fabian pulled him closer, the soft chattering of teeth reached his ears. He didn’t have much time till the next saving throw arrived.

A precious moment or two was spent prying the thick tome and arquebus out of Riz’s hands. Fabian’s voice softened to a croon as he did, “Come on, Riz. I promise nothing bad will happen to them if you let go. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

Eventually, thankfully, Riz’s grip loosened enough to slip the two items out of it. Setting them aside, Fabian got to work unsheathing his Sword of Shadows and swathing Riz in his battle sheet. The motions had a strange familiarity to them.

Bringing him back to a moment of relief within a lengthy battle as rain poured down on them and he held an unconscious Riz in his arms. Just as he’s doing now. His face had been more relaxed back then, instead being tensed and scrunched up in distress. Though, as he finished wrapping him up, Riz’s furrowed eyebrows and curled lips eased as the sheet’s warmth sank into him.

Fabian had almost lost him that day too. Only time would tell if they’d be as fortunate as they were that day to cheat death once more. But, watching Riz sigh and nuzzle into the fabric of the sheet, his boyish charm making a heartening return to his face, their chances looked promising.

Now that he had a warming Riz in his arms, Fabian almost placed him back on the ground. Ready to get to work on a fire when a stray memory of one of Sandra Lynn’s survival lectures stopped him. Something about never sleeping on cold, bare ground. Glancing down at the grungy, creaky floorboards, his nose wrinkled. Yeah, no, he wouldn’t want to rest his sheet down there, let alone Riz.

With a bit of maneuvering, Fabian managed to keep Riz in his arms as he nudged their stuff away from the front of the fireplace and he dragged the ragged mattress from the bed to place it there instead. Giving the old thing a couple of hits to get the dust off of them. He only succeeded in sending whatever foul substance blanketing it into the air.

One coughing fit later, he laid Riz down on the mattress, resting his head on the worn pillow and covering him in the blanket. Which in practice seemed to be just the suggestion of one and provided almost no actual warmth.

Well, it’s the thought that counts.

Nodding once at the sight, he rose to his feet and set out to start a fire in the hearth. Or rather, convince his inner fire elemental to light some logs ablaze. Whatever you wanted to call it, it’s about to get real warm in here real quick. Rubbing his hands together with a tiny smirk, he glanced around the fireplace for logs to burn.

Strange.

There don’t appear to be any logs stacked near the fireplace’s rack. None under the bed. Or resting against the sides of the web-bedecked kitchen counters.

There don’t seem to be any logs… anywhere in the cottage.

Right, nobody has lived here for a long time.

No person. No logs. No fire.

Cool, cool, cool.

That’s fine.

Fabian just needs to… to…

To…

By the Seven Winds and Jane Wren’s blade, this is hopeless.

Look, Fabian has never ever claimed to be the Smart Bad Kid. Adaine and The Ball had that on lock! Not the wisest either, Kristen and, surprisingly, Gorgug could take that medal. And hell! Fig had enough wit and cleverness to sink a galleon.

Figuring stuff out, remembering and recalling information, none of that was Fabian’s job. His job was to deal stupid amounts of damage, prance about with his sheet dealing out bardics and imposing disadvantage when needed, and, finally, to look hot.

That’s about it.

His Intelligence and Wisdom checks have rarely gone well and even when they did, even when he oh so desperately wanted to be the smart one, he could never beat out his friends’ rolls. And, ultimately, he’s fine with it because that’s not his job.

But right now, it is.

And worse, he needs to be good at it.

So, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried to come up with a solution for his crisis.

There’s no firewood in the cottage. He needs to find some or else Riz will freeze to death. Where does one get firewood? If they were back in Solace, he’d assume that there was a hardware store, one that the Thistlesprings surely patronaged, that sold the stuff. But they’re deep in the Mountains of Chaos and the closest town is too far away to go just for firewood. The previous owner must’ve gotten it themself, which means that… that…

Wait.

A shed!

When he had booked it over to the cottage, he hadn’t paid it any mind, but there had been another structure attached to it. Surely, if the previous owner had to have cut down the trees themself, they would have needed somewhere to put all that lumber! Yes, yes, that’s it!

Throwing on his thick coat and his gloves, he checked on Riz one last time before venturing back into the blizzard. He wasn’t quite the ice block he’d been before, but he was still much too cold for his liking. Ruffling Riz’s wild mane of waves and tucking him a little tighter in the sheet, Fabian went to search for firewood.

As he stepped out, all at once, every ounce of cold he’d shaken off once he stumbled into the cottage returned. Tenfold even, now that he didn’t have his battle sheet to keep him warm. It was like walking straight into a brick wall of frost and harsh winds. None of that discouraged him, though.

Raising a hand to block what little he could of the storm from his face, he trudged through the compounding snow. A gloved hand followed the rough stone exterior walls around the length of the cottage. Until he turned the corner and saw it. The shed wasn’t that big, which is likely why he discredited it at first glance, but it was plenty big enough to hold lumber.

Like the cottage’s front door, it took a few good jerks to yank one of the shed’s double doors open and shut, but only halfway. It would have to do, he wasn’t planning on staying long. Wrapping his arms around himself to preserve what little warmth he had left, Fabian hummed an old sea shanty as he did a once-over of the shed.

Good news: Amongst the lingering dirt and dust, sat bags of kindling and heaps of hefty logs were stacked on a sturdy, metal rack. More than enough for the night they’d be spending here.

Bad news: None of the logs lined up along the wall had been chopped small enough to fit in the fireplace. Fabian didn’t know a lot about survival tactics but all the logs he’d ever seen used in fireplaces were chopped into quarters or eighths. Not one big log.

Promising news: There’s a perfectly good axe nearby to chop those logs into the smaller pieces he needed.

Horrifying news: It’s clutched in the hands of a corpse.

Collapsed in a corner of the shed was what he could only assume was the cottage’s previous owner.

Almost jumping out of his skin, Fabian’s scream went muffled by the raging blizzard as he leapt a foot into the air at the sight. It was too cold for there to be a smell coming from it, but he covered his face anyway. Pressed up against the wall opposite it, he stilled. Controlling his panicked breaths the best he could. He’d dealt with the undead too many times not to have a healthy suspicion of “dead” bodies.

When it’d become apparent that no one was rolling for initiative, his shoulders relaxed. Pushing off of the wall, he crept over to the body. It’d been lying on the ground, curled up around the axe, next to a chopping block. Frozen despite the thick coat wrapped around them.

Riz would’ve probably inched closer to reveal the body’s face currently covered by a large hood, but Fabian couldn’t stomach it. Instead, he focused on the axe, careful to avoid touching the corpse as he took hold of the handle. Try as he might, his mild tugs weren’t enough to wrench it from the body.

Deep sigh.

His grip on the axe tightened. Already wincing at the act of disrespecting the dead. Counting down from ten, when he reached one he yanked the axe free. The sickening crunch of frozen bones breaking that sounded out into the quiet of the shed would haunt him for years.

Turning away from the body, Fabian dragged the axe behind him as he shuffled over to the rack for a bunch of logs. Settling one on the chopping block with a steading breath. Adjusting his hold on the throat and shoulder of the axe, he mimicked the stance he’d seen Gorgug take thousands of times now.

Drawing on every ounce of his strength, he heaved the axe up, his eyes never leaving the center of the log, and brought it down. Splitting the log in two.

The repetitive motions were soothing. In their own way. Even as his muscles began to ache and scream for a break. And even as the chill of the Mountains drained his energy. His mind found comfort in the raising and falling of the axe’s blade and the splitting of wood. It was like trudging through the snow. He didn’t know how far he had to walk; he didn’t know how many logs he’d have to chop. But he kept going anyway.

Fabian’s rhythm finally halted once the axe’s blade sunk so deep into the block that pure momentum wasn’t enough for him to be able to lift it again. Everything he’d been ignoring in favour of chopping hit him all at once. The sting of overworked muscles. The stiffness of his frame. The level of exhaustion.

Crumpling around the axe and onto the chopping block, a stray thought of falling asleep sounded like such a brilliant idea. Right here. Right now. He’d bring the firewood in afterwards. Just for a few minutes. Fabian’s heavy eyelids threatened to shut and stay that way for longer than he’d like. But not before his eyes landed on the corpse. Frozen to death in a crumpled pile in a shed in the middle of nowhere.

No.

That’s not how he’s going to go.

And besides, there’s a freezing Goblin inside who needs him.

Gritting his teeth, ignoring soreness and shaking limbs, Fabian brought himself to his feet. It took a good, solid minute but he eventually got there. Leaning heavily on the upright axe handle, he took a moment to take in just how many logs he’d chopped. The floor of the shed was absolutely covered in them. His eyes widened.

Okay, he’d kind of, maybe overdid it. By a lot.

Holy shit this is so much firewood.

Sheepish, Fabian gathered as much as could in the old, leather firewood carrier, along with a bundle of kindling,. Putting the rest up on the rack before heading back to the cottage.

With a noisy thump, he plopped the carrier and himself down next to the hearth. Unable to ignore how Riz didn’t flinch at its suddenness and volume. He got right to work.

Fabian could feel the palpable judgement from all the rangers and druids he knew as he built the fire. Deciding on something akin to a Jenga tower with the kindling on top. Sitting back, he stared at the logs. A deep frown on his face as he weighed the pros and cons of starting over again before shrugging and summoning his fire elemental.

After that fateful Spring Break, he and his elemental, whom he’d named Nar, had become quite the magical guinea pig for all of the Wizards he knew. Unable to stand the arcane anomaly laid before their inquisitive (read: nosy) minds.

Between Adaine, Aelwen, Ayda, and Zayne, they’d come to a peculiar arcane conclusion. You see, when he’d kissed Nar in Fallinel and swallowed that mote of fire, he’d become a material component of sorts.

Apparently, motes of elemental energy are usually only placed in expensive jewels. Thus becoming an Elemental Gem capable of casting Conjure Elemental. Which would make him the Half-Elven version of it, except better since the Gems are only one use. Or something like that. Fabian had only ever understood that much of their arcane babbling before zoning out.

To him, the academic reasons behind the source of his bardic power never mattered. Much to his Wizard friends’ exasperation. No, what mattered was how he felt and wanted other people to feel, and from there, his magic flowed into the world.

Knowing how freaked out Kalina made Kristen, he’d wanted her to feel every bit the hero she was when he cast Heroism on her. Whenever he cast Faerie Fire, it focused on his want, his need, to see what could potentially harm his friends. Fig had even once described his bardic inspirations as a surging seaside campfire after being shipwrecked. Hopeful and heartening in the face of overwhelming odds. While hers were more like a galvanizing jolt of pure hell-fiery rock n’ roll.

Whenever his Wizard friends had wanted him to conjure his elemental, he always went back to the moment when he summoned it forth for the first time. A time when he wanted nothing more than to protect his friends and keep them safe. More specifically, keeping Riz safe.

This must be why when he tried to summon it, wanting nothing more than to protect his best friend from the cold, Nar appeared quicker than it ever had.

In a rush of flames erupting from his sheet, Nar sprung to life in its sleek Elven shape of roiling flames. Immediately, it curled around Riz’s unconscious form. Adjusting the sheet around him before cupping his face and kissing his forehead.

A small spark of jealousy flared in Fabian’s chest as he rolled his eyes at his elemental’s cooing and doting.

Audibly clearing his throat so that Nar would pay attention to him, he gave a pointed nod at the fireplace. “Alright. If you’re quite finished with your little love fest over there, you have a job to do.”

Crossing its arms, Nar reluctantly left Riz’s side, not before one of their slender hands gave his curls one last ruffle. Without another word from Fabian, it dove into the hearth’s opening. Encompassing the stack of firewood and setting them ablaze. A tidal wave of heat crashed over him, almost to the point of pain against his icy, numb face.

Nar flowed out of the swelling fire to come to stand in front of Fabian, looking quite satisfied with itself. Rolling his eyes, Fabian gave it an obligatory round of claps, to which it did a ballerina’s curtsy before disappearing into his battlesheet.

Just as Fabian shook his head with a fond smile on his lips at his elemental’s dramatics, wondering where in Spyre it could’ve gotten that from, a small sigh pricked up his ears.

Whipping around just in time to watch as Riz sluggishly woke up. His eyelids opened to reveal golden gems, usually keen and hyperacute, now left hazy and weary by his levels of exhaustion. Yet they opened all the same.

“Riz!” Fabian’s heart leapt in his chest as he pulled the mattress closer to him and the fireplace.

“F’bian?” Riz murmured, looking like he was caught between wanting to curl up into the sheet further and sitting up to talk to him.

With a gentle hand placed on the center of Riz’s chest, Fabian guided him back to lying down. Maneuvering himself to sit behind the mattress and slightly above Riz. As not to force him to strain as they spoke.

Brushing a rebellious curl out of Riz’s sleepy face, Fabian said, “Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling?”

Riz heaved a shaky sigh, and Fabian’s heart skipped a beat as Riz leaned into the hand that’d lingered near his face. “Tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”

“And I’ve seen you not sleep for a month.”

Riz smiled at that memory. “Hehe, yeah, gotta be a record right?”

Yeah, Fabian’s memory of that whole ordeal was less fond.

It’d been over the summer last year, and Riz had gone into “deep cover��� again. Only for Fabian to find him perched like a gargoyle underneath the Marigold Docks running on zero sleep and heaps of coffee.

Apparently, he’d been tailing someone for his Dad, official upper planes business. Fabian had hardly cared about the reasons Riz had blustered about when caught, he’d instead immediately cast Sleep at his highest spell slot. Making a Dex save directly after to catch Riz’s unconscious form before he fell into the river.

Riz had woken up hours later in Fabian’s bed more than unimpressed, but Fabian ignored his glares and grumbles. Only mentioning that his dad might prefer that Riz didn’t work himself to an early death, and his mother more so. That shut him up enough to eat the soup Cathilda had made him.

Hmm.

Fabian pursed his lips, still deep in thought. “Are you hungry, perchance?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Riz answered, furrowing his brow as he sensed they got off-topic somehow. They widened a second later as he bolted upright. “Wait, the tome! Did it make it? Is it ruined?”

“The tome is fine, The Ball. Look see,” Fabian said, reaching over to where he discarded the thick, leather-bound book and presenting it to Riz. “You kept it perfectly safe.”

“Good, good, good,” He said as his body relaxed at the sight of the tome. As he laid back down, his eyes grew heavy and his voice drowsy as he said one last time, “Good.”

By the gods, Riz was adorable when he was tired. With a small smile on his lips, Fabian brushed a few of Riz’s curls from his face and readjusted the battle sheet upwards. “Don’t worry, you focus on resting up and I’ll—” He looked out into the desolate cottage, frowning. “—Find us something to eat.”

Scanning his eyes over the interior of the cottage again, Fabian couldn’t help the grimace that took over his face. Nothing to find but dust and dirt. And heading outside to hunt for food (something he’s never done in his life) definitely wasn’t an option. Oh, this night just wouldn’t end!

An ever-growing sense of fatigue settled over him and a huge yawn escaped his lips. He was just so tired. And his bones ached and muscles screamed at him every time he moved. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet. Just one more thing to do. Find food and then sleep. That’s it. Just find some food.

The first place Fabian looked was in his backpack. Mainly because it meant that he didn’t have to stand back up just yet but also because there could be a couple portions of rations that he hadn’t eaten yet.

Rifling through it, all he managed to find was a bag of loose nuts and berries. Fig had gathered them a couple days ago and tried to figure out how to cast Goodberry. Though she never figured it out (no matter how many times she used the words and movements they’d seen her mother use), they were still berries. And nuts! And thus, food! Sure, they’re still a far cry from anything substantial, but discovering them gave Fabian a much-needed boost in energy.

No longer so hopeless and weary, he gave the cottage a more thorough look through. Opening up creaking, dusty cabinets and cupboards and looking under tables and benches. Until he realized one of the heavier sacks he tossed aside left a trail of scattered oats across the floor.

Oats!

Fabian dropped to his knees, his heart racing and breath bottled up in his chest and lifted the sack upright. Steadying it before he ripped its top seam open. Revealing an entire, large bag of thick rolled oats. Still hesitant, Fabian dipped a hand into the grain and lifted a scoop of it to his nose before letting it fall back into the sack through his fingers. It didn’t smell off. Didn’t look it either. No mould or rot of any kind. There was no way for him to be one hundred percent sure, but he was willing to take the chance.

Now, he isn’t about to act like he’s Spyre’s greatest chef, but he has watched Cathilda make him porridge enough times to know that even he can’t fuck up making oatmeal…. He’s pretty sure he can’t fuck it up…. He has burned water before….

Riz might be fucked.

But it’s worth a shot!

After grabbing a cast-iron cooking pot from beside the fireplace, Fabian ventured back outside into the blizzard to fill the pot with untouched snow. He brought it back inside and hung it on the hook above the livid, scarlet flames. Letting the snow melt and boil as he grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen and dragged the sack of oats closer to the fireplace.

Between Riz’s soft snores and the crackling of lit hearth, this moment was strangely peaceful and almost domestic. Safe from the raging snowstorm outside, Fabian sat next to Riz on the mattress. Wiping off the dust from the wooden spoon with his jacket. His gaze shifted from Riz to the pot to the spoon and back again.

Until the snow, now water, began to bubble and boil. Fabian then took the pot off of the hook over the fire and placed it on another away from it but still close enough to keep the water warm. Next, he carefully scooped out handfuls of oats and dropped them into the boiling water. Watching as they began to soften and thicken and cling to the spoon as he stirred. Slowly but surely, it became porridge before his eyes.

Click.

Fabian was startled out of his cooking reverie by the sound of a camera shutter behind him. He whipped around to see Riz, his cheeks still rosy and eyes filled with sleep, holding his crystal up and staring back at him with a lazy grin.

“The Ball!” Fabian said with a gasp. “You can’t take photos of man without telling him!”

Smug as can be, Riz grinned and said, “I just did.”

“You’re supposed to be resting!”

“I was.” He said defiantly before the photo he took on his crystal caught his attention again and his face and voice softened. “It’s just… you looked so content. And none of our friends will believe you cooked anything without photo evidence, so…”

“Alright, fine. But sit tight, it’s almost done.” Fabian peered over the lip of the cooking pot at the bubbling porridge within. His brow arched and lips pursed. “I think.”

Creeping forward until he reached Fabian’s side, Riz took a deep breath as he peered over the pot as well. “Smells good.”

“That’s promising.” Fabian said, following suit. The nutty and slightly sweet aroma filled his nose in short order. Hmm, yes. That does smell rather good. Chalk up another win for Fabian tonight. Stirring the pot with a little more pomp and self-satisfaction, Fabian went on, “I do have to admit that it’s going to be rather plain. All I have to add are some of the berries Fig found a couple days ago.”

“Oh! Wait,” Riz scurried over to the nigh-forgotten backpack and pulled his briefcase out of it. Clicking it open, he stuck an arm into the case and began to rummage through the infinite space within. “Remember the nice couple back near the base of the mountain?”

“You mean the throuple with the freaky ravens?”

“Yes, them. If I’m remembering correctly they kept a hive of bees and gave us—” He pulled out a glass container of something bright and golden and lifted it high in the air. “—Ah ha! Gave us some honey for the road!”

“Huzzah!” Fabian cried, throwing one of his arms up in the air with a little more flourish. “Here, come add it to the pot.”

Still wrapped in the battle sheet, Riz scampered over with the vial of honey. Uncorking it with his teeth, he poured the viscous, golden liquid into the steaming pot of thick oatmeal while Fabian mixed them together. The two of them breathed in the smell of oatmeal now with the added slightly floral smell of the honey and looked at each other with warm smiles. Perfect.

“Brillant as ever the Ball.” Fabian said as he picked up the pouch filled with boysenberries and walnuts and delicately sprinkled them on top of the oatmeal.

Riz shrugged and said with a wry smirk, “Well, I try.”

Huddled together on the mattress with the cooking pot between them, the two of them took turns eating spoonfuls of their dinner. Filling their stomachs with much-needed warmth and sustenance. Between the mouthfuls, they idly talked in hushed tones. Riz flipped through the tome that they stole. Explaining its relevance to their current adventure and theorizing what their plan should be in the morning to Fabian. Who was still only half listening.

Too wrapped up in gazing at how the fireplace’s flickering flames danced in Riz’s amber eyes and softened some of his harsh yet handsome features. Sue him. His best friend was cute. Not that Fabian could ever work up the courage to tell him to his face. He was still a coward in that regard. Far too afraid and confused to ruin what he and Riz have with all these pesky, lovey-dovey feelings. No, he was content to just watch. To keep safe. For now and forever.

Before long, the cooking pot was empty, only the sticky remnants of the oatmeal left clung to the pot’s insides, and their bellies were full. As Riz yawned, large and cat-like, Fabian moved to take the cooking pot and head back outside to fill it with more snow. Planning on washing it out with the boiled snow in the morning for their breakfast. Which, now that he thinks about it, will be a lot less tasty than their dinner. Thanks to them using up all their natural sweeteners.

Hmm.

Well, that was a problem for morning Fabian.

This Fabian was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to fall dead asleep. And he wasn’t the only one.

Once he got back in and hung the pot over the fire, when he went to say something to Riz, Fabian found him curled up on the mattress, passed out. Snoring the night away. Fabian smiled at the sight and gave a nod, more to himself than anything. Quest completed successfully. Time for bed.

As quietly as he could, Fabian brought one of the old wooden chairs over and placed it as close to the fire as he could get it. Settling himself down on it, he tried his best to get comfortable but eventually gave up and simply tried to get some sleep. Nodding off moments later to the sound of Riz’s snores and the glow of the firelight.

“Fabian?”

Maybe a couple hours later, Fabian awoke.

Groggy and half-asleep, he pried his eyes open to find a concerned, shivering Riz in front of him and a low burning fire to his side. And though it took his mind a moment to fire back up, Fabian jumped to his feet and rushed to the fireplace.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Clumsily reaching and fumbling for another log before tossing it into the hearth. “Sorry, The Ball. Just one moment.” Fabian said as he reached for the fire poker and started jabbing it into the log. Hazily wondering if he could give a fire bardic inspiration to last longer. He waved a hand at Riz. “Go back to bed, I’ve got it.”

But Riz didn’t move.

He stood there, bathed in the fiery orange glow of the hearth and asked, “Why were you sleeping on the chair?”

A beat.

“Where else I am supposed to sleep?” He answered with another question. Something he knew Riz hated unless he was the one doing it. Riz tilted his head to the side and he scrunched up his face before he took a pointed look at the mattress and then back to him. Fabian smiled queasily. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because, I—” Fabian gulped. “—I’d take up a lot of space. On the matress that is.”

“I woudn’t mind,” Riz said quickly, the words almost falling out of his mouth. “Goblins sleep in piles for warmth, even the ones that live up here in the cold. So…”

“Is that right?” Fabian asked. Riz nodded. Well… if he was fine with it. “Okay then.”

Timidly, Fabian followed Riz back to the mattress. Though he hesitated as he watched Riz get back under the battle sheet and the threadbare blanket.

Furrowing his brows, Riz reached out with his claws and gave his arm a tug. With his eight strength, it didn’t do much but urge Fabian forward. “We don’t have all night. Get in.”

“Alright, alright. Bossy much?” Fabian whined though he hurried to follow Riz’s orders. Slipping under the blanket and battle sheet, he had to stifle a groan as the magical heat of Nar sunk into his skin.

Almost instantly, Riz settled close to him, to his chest. Resting his head underneath Fabian’s chin before curling up into a ball, his tail winding around one of his legs. Without even thinking, Fabian wrapped his arms around him and tucked him deeper into the embrace, hiking up his knees to curl around him. It all felt so right. Like pieces of a puzzle slotting together. Perfect and satisfying. As if this was meant to be.

Finally at peace, Fabian basked in how correct this all felt. In the quiet of the cottage, the freezing wind still howling all around them, he’d never felt as untouchable as he did now. And looking down at Riz, an almost serene expression on his sleeping face, Fabian hoped he felt that way too.

One last thing, before he drifted off to sleep as well, Fabain kissed the top of Riz’s head and squeezed him a little tighter. Slipping off into unconsciousness, he only half noticed Riz squirming a bit in his hold before he felt a brush of lips on his jawline, heard a whispered, “Thanks, Fabes.”, and had one last thought.

Huh. Maybe someone heard his prayers after all.

And then,

Black.

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first d20 fic and though i know the fabriz fandom is quite small now, i look forward to enjoying Junior Year with all of you. Don't be a stranger! I'd love to hear what you think and if you have any requests, i'd be open to hearing and possibly writing them! Thanks again!

[gilbertscurls]

The wind howled outside, rattling the windows as snow piled up against the glass, turning the world beyond into a blur of white. You were curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you, staring at your phone’s weather app.

“Well,” you said, glancing at Chris, “we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

Chris grinned from where he stood by the window, hands in his hoodie pockets. “Perfect. We’ve got food, blankets, and an entire day to do whatever we want. The possibilities are endless.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Endless? In a snowstorm?”

“Yup,” he said confidently, plopping down on the couch beside you. “Step one: fort building. Step two: Christmas movie marathon.”

“Fort building?” you asked, laughing.

He gave you a mock-offended look. “What, you don’t like fun anymore?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, fine. But if this fort falls apart halfway through, it’s on you.”

Chris shot to his feet, clapping his hands. “Oh, ye of little faith. This fort is going to be epic.”

The next hour was a whirlwind of chaos. Chris pulled every blanket and pillow he could find, dragging them into the living room. He used the couch, chairs, and even a couple of broomsticks to create the framework, draping the blankets over the top like a patchwork canopy. You helped secure the corners, laughing every time something slipped or collapsed.

“See?” Chris said, adjusting a rogue blanket. “Architectural genius.”

“You mean chaotic mess,” you teased, but the truth was, the fort was starting to look pretty cozy.

When it was finally done, you both crawled inside, armed with snacks, a string of fairy lights for ambiance, and Chris’ laptop. The space was cramped but warm, the soft glow of the lights making it feel like your own little world.

“Alright,” Chris said, settling in beside you. “What’s first? Classic animation? Cheesy rom-com? Or full-on Christmas chaos?”

“Let’s start with a classic,” you suggested, reaching for the popcorn.

The first movie played, and it didn’t take long for Chris to start his usual running commentary.

“Why does no one ever notice that guy sneaking around?” he asked during a pivotal scene.

“It’s a kids’ movie, Chris,” you said, laughing.

“Still,” he insisted, shaking his head. “If I were the villain, I’d wear a neon sign or something. Be honest about it.”

His commentary continued through the next film, his jokes so ridiculous you could barely focus on the plot. He even tried to mimic a dramatic monologue from one of the characters, his voice so over-the-top you nearly spilled your hot chocolate from laughing.

By the third movie, you were both tangled in the blankets, half-watching and half-talking about everything and nothing. The storm outside raged on, but inside the fort, it was warm and peaceful, your own little bubble of light and laughter.

“This was a good idea,” you said softly, glancing at Chris.

He smirked, turning his head to look at you. “Told you. I’m full of good ideas.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

He reached over, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. “Too late. But seriously, thanks for being stuck with me. Snowstorms are way more fun with you.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, the sound of the movie fading into the background as the warmth of the moment settled over you.

“Anytime,” you said.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, you realized that being snowed in wasn’t so bad when you were with someone who could turn a simple fort and a few movies into something unforgettable.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim

[sometimes-icanstillhear-sitboy]

Just in case you're feeling stuck or need inspiration. Not a challenge.

HOLIDAY:

December 4th is Inuyasha’s birthday per the expert level @officialkagome calculations on the subject.

In the modern era, demons are responsible for Christmas with one certain elderly half-demon as their mascot. Mainly because “Ms. Claus” can hide them all from detection with her own special gifts.

A Christmas Carol. Inuyasha has been a total ass recently and the fates decide to show him that he needs to make some changes or else life is going to totally suck.

Gift of the Magi. The basic plot of the original is a young husband and wife who long to give each other meaningful Christmas presents. The couple is constrained by their meagre budget, so each gives up something they treasure in order to afford a gift for the other. Roll with it.

It’s A Wonderful Life. Inuyasha incurs a rather heinous injury after an emotionally devastating day. Beaten down in every way, he plays with the idea of giving up. Random ass spirit thing shows him all the good he’s done and what the world would be without him.

AU mixed with Canon. Inuyasha was a woefully mediocre high school student who made a wish upon the Northern (Christmas) Star after an especially brutal day. He wants his life to be different. He wants to be special. He wants to be the best at something, anything. Wakes up in the feudal era as the most powerful half-demon and realizes things could always be worse.

Post-canon. After a few years of living in the feudal era, Kagome realizes that she’s lost track. She doesn’t know holidays or even when her birthday is anymore. Her little depressed sighs don’t fall beneath her husband’s notice and Inuyasha decides to do something special much to Kagome’s utter shock.

While waiting for Kagome, Inuyasha gets mistaken for Santa by a young child and has to use context clues to navigate the situation.

Inuyasha receives a present and malfunctions. What’s the catch? There’s gotta be a catch.

Post-canon. Inuyasha receives a cat as a gift from his wife. Rejoices.

Miroku is introduced to classical holiday music and is moved to tears.

WINTER:

Canon Universe. In the aftermath of a snow storm, Inuyasha and the gang happen upon old ruins of a fortress. Something about how familiar it feels disturbs Inuyasha who fails to recognize it as the place he was born until he comes upon something which reminds him of his mother. The snow. A full moon. The room. The smells.

One fine winter day, the group disappears one by one while those remaining search for them. Turns out they’re being shrunk and wrapped as presents for a young demon baby to play with. Kagome somehow manages to convince everyone they need to find replacements while the others just want to GTFO.

It’s getting cold out here so put on all the clothes. I am getting so cold. I’m gunna put more clothes on.

While Miroku & Sango take the break to visit Mushin, Inuyasha nearly drowns and freezes to death after making a terrible life decision. In his instinct driven state, his body seeks safety. He gains awareness in Kagome’s bed with no sign of the girl in question. Too cold to move Inuyasha simply passes out again only to wake up curled in Kagome’s arms.

Kagome notices that Inuyasha is (poorly) putting on a brave face as they travel in the snow. Turns out half-demons do get cold. Shocking.

Inuyasha discovers hot chocolate. Completely unrelated, Inuyasha learns “pop pop fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is” and that modern medicine’s solution is you can’t suffer if you’re unconscious.

Rain rain go away. Turn to ice another day. We want to go and slay. Come again a warmer day.

Inuyasha tries to be subtle on a cold night and very “casually” offers to hold the woman of his dreams while she sleeps. Hits jackpot.

Sango is cold. Miroku scams to remedy this.

The group huddles around a fire with Miroku generously pouring sake in an attempt to keep everyone warm. Inuyasha is a lightweight and decides to prove he’s fireproof. He is not.

The cold reminds Shippo of warm nights snuggling with his parents. He is sad.

Inuyasha catches a cold. Kagome & the others try to make him the medicinal soup from hell.

RANDOM:

After a feast held in the group’s honor because hot damn can Miroku lie, Kagome goes searching for a missing Inuyasha only to discover the man can play an instrument beautifully. Weirdly they have an “ancient” version of it in the shrine storage shed. Maybe he’d want it?

After another big fight over Kikyo, Inuyasha makes a wish that one thing in his life would be simple. When Kagome gets amnesia while the two are on a solo mission, Inuyasha uses his surprisingly through knowledge to convince her they were a couple and does everything “right”. Sure he feels guilty and this will eventually ruin his life but the sweet taste of pure joy is a high worth risking everything.

For the love of god someone do an Inuyasha AU fanfic of this:

[nikethestatue]

Hello Nike,

I've read a few times that SJM wanted to do a retelling of 'The Little Mermaid' and I don't know how that would align with the rest of the plot. I know that some people think that Gwyn would be the mermaid and that the book would be based on her. Thank you.

Hi!

I am going to preface this by saying that I take SJMs own interviews with a grain of salt. Because you know, in another interview, she said that she doesn't read her boy classic fairytales because she doesnt like the message that they convey about women basically only wanting to get married. So while interviews exist, they are also a snapshot of one specific point in time, and I do believe that she changes her mind, that over time she forgets what she said--like we all do--that ideas and perceptions change as well. So I don't whip out something from 6-8 years ago and treat it as gospel. If she' repeated something multiple times, then I am more apt to believe it. Beyond that, it's open for interpretation.

I've heard of the Little Mermaid retelling. Guess the question is--WHICH one? The original Hans Christian Andreson's The Little Mermaid which is a tale of horror, pain, anguish and death? Or the Disney version, with the singing fish or whatever. In both versions however, the mermaid is on a quest to marry this prince that she knows nothing about and whom she saved during a storm. For him, she gives up absolutely everything--her life, her family, her legs! in the original, her life too. So does anyone actually think that SJM is going to write a story like that? I doubt it.

When she says a 'retelling' I think that she borrows different little things from various tales and sticks them into her books. You COULD say it's a retelling, but...

Here is an example: The Hybern Twins poison an apple that Feyre eats. VERY classic poisoned apple trope, and IS a retelling--but did it have anything directly with Snow White, for example? No.

Same with Beauty and the Beast--ACOTAR is probably the closest that she went with a direct retelling, but what do we have at the end? The beast is not actually freed--he remains beastly (literally and figuratively), miserable, and loses the girl. Again, it IS a retelling...

Some say that ACOSF is a vague retelling of Rapunzel and Nesta is the girl who is stuck in a tower (HoW), and who learns and figures out how to leave that tower and free herself (physically and emotionally). That is also a retelling.

There is an extremely direct retelling of the Biblical Exodus/Parting of the Red Sea, when we read about Nephelle and her philosophy, but again, SJM twists things to fit her stories.

So sure, there might be some kind of a retelling of The Little Mermaid, but how do we know it will be related to Gwyn? Why would it not, for example, be related to her Grandmother, whose story seems to parallel the Little Mermaid closely--a water-dwelling creature who falls in love/seduces a High Fae (prince) and has his child, but it ends badly for them. Perhaps, the Little Mermaid has already BEEN retold? Anyone thought of that? And that's the story that she went with.

What I know about SJM is that she certainly knows mythology, folklore and Biblical stories well, but she is never going to retell a story directly, in an expected way. She'll twist it and turn it and you won't even notice it.

[shewhospeakswiththunder]

Perhaps you’re feeling bored at home or, if considered an “essential” worker like me, you need a little fun and stress relief. Here is my masterpost of fic recs from my two years of reading so far. Maybe you’ll find something new, or reconnect with an old favorite. Either way--

Enjoy! 😷💕

Reylo Fics that Deserve All the Love

Near Kinsman by englishable

Englishable is just one of the best writers I’ve encountered in fandom. This historical western mail order bride AU is top notch quality.

The Masochism of Self-Defence by greyorchids

The Reylo dynamic in this Boston PD AU is steamy, but also heartfelt. 

So Much Thin Glass by walkingsaladshooter

Never knew I loved modern day Gothic AUs until I ran across this one.

Heaven Forbid by DarkKnightDarkSide

I was stunned by the author’s creativity in this Priestlo fic. So smutty. So... inventive 😉🔥

Sonder by deathbyhumidity

Two strangers passing each other by on the train. Soft, dreamlike, somber, poignant. Modern AU.

And Still I Would Remember by Inmyownidiom

A Victorian era AU of two souls that parted and come crashing back together.

So, You've Decided to Glamour a Human Girl. by selunchen

Faeries AU! Ben, a fae, and Rey, a human. Shenanigans ensue.

Live Long, and Prosper by SaintHeretical

For the Reylo Trekkies. Hell, even if you don't do Star Trek, read this. PHENOMENAL.

Mr. Solo & Miss Wellfound by LinearA

“Regency/Victorian AU, Ben sees Rey's stockinged ankle by accident.”

Diyari by Nervoustouch

Modern archeologists AU. Snarky banter with dashes of Indiana Jones, The Mummy, and Sahara vibes.

Drawn to the light of your burning sorrows by Kyriadamorte

The Mothlo AU you didn’t know you needed. Both gritty and soft.

Crown Glass by RebelRebel

Fantasy AU, with lots of beautiful imagery and engaging character dynamics.

Kohelet 3:16 (Call Me A Cab) by LinearA

NYC Jewish Leia and Ben. Skillfully layered plot, nuanced characterization. Smut is HOT.

By the Shores of Varykino Lake by hipgrab (merrymegtargaryen)

Unhealthy dynamics, definitely read the tags. “There’s a lot of fucked-up-ness”, in the author’s own words. But it’s good writing. Fair warning.

Let Me Put My Darkness In You by ArdeaJestin

Canonverse. Hux is an insufferable, pompous ass and Kylo Ren writes terrible, melodramatic poetry.

Wintertide by Zabeta

Whimsical and primitive in turn, this lives up to the style of a true fairytale AU.

The Forty Thieves by PoetHrotsvitha

Peaky Blinders/Gangsters AU. Rey starts as Ben’s bartender and ends up as so much more.

I Said to My Soul, Be Still by LinearA

Dark!Rey takes her man. 🥵🔥💕

Hux's Rousing Pep Talks by Riels_shorts

This fic is hysterical. It’s not Reylo, and I don’t care. My list, my rules.

It's All I Can Do To Leave You Alone by TazWren

Office AU. Silly, spunky, with a bashful Ben. 

Sip the Honey Sweet by dietplainlite

Anne of Green Gables-esque/Edwardian era AU, the title really says it all.

The Pull to the Light by HarpiaHarpyja

Entrancingly macabre. This modern/fantasy/monsters AU catches your attention from the get-go, and never lets you off the hook.

lay then the axe to the root by sciosophia

All the Bronte goodness, plus smut.

The Golden Age by TourmalineGreen

Golden Age of Hollywood AU in which Ben is a jaded actor in serious need of an image fix, in the form of fresh-faced actress Rey.

Never Be Your Curse by Kate_Reid 

Kylo Ren is a go-go dancer in this AU. That was enough to get my attention 😘

Gallows God by Killtheselights

Bursting with deliciously grim imagery, an intelligent take on Norse mythology.

Thunderstorms, Clouds, Snow, and a Slight Drizzle by aNerdObsessed

Who doesn’t love an ugly sweater Christmas party? Ben Solo, that’s who. All the nostalgic wintertime feels in this modern AU.

Though My Soul Has Set in Darkness by englishable

It’s not long, but it’s good. A lyrical dive into the mindspace of child Ben Solo. A true gem. Also not technically Reylo. Still don’t care.

I Dare You by tinylittlebrain

Daredevil Kylo has pissed off ER doc Rey Kenobi for the last time. Spicy!

stuck in colder weather by redbelles

Professor Ren stops grad student Rey from biking home in a snow storm. And takes her to his home. You can guess where this goes 😉

Between Sky and Sea by nessalk

Serious Indiana Jones vibes with a Caribbean flair. Painstakingly researched, and moments of true beauty and joy.

But Before Tomorrow by Kate_Reid

Such good writing. Canonverse.

The Sword of Prince Hector by englishable

Exploration of what redemption might feel like for Ben, canonverse. 

if compassion be the breath of life, breathe on me by Victoryindeath2

All the angst and unknowns that we were left with in the wake of TLJ are soothed in this canonverse piece.

build a ladder to the stars by redbelles

An exploration of events post-Crait. Fantastic, beautifully written.

nor are we forgiven (which brings us back) by TolkienGirl

Both Kylo and Rey get to see what life would have been like if they both got exactly what they thought they wanted after TLJ. Fascinating read. 

Forsworn by Erulisse17

This Mando/ST crossover has everything you could want--action, witty banter, space romance! So much fun!

Reylo Favorites & Classics

One Shots

59 Minutes by delia-pavorum (literaryminded)

For Science by KyloTrashForever, ohwise1ne

He Made It Through the Wilderness (somehow he made it through) by LovesBitca8

light carries on endlessly by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora)

Grey by ocjones

The Idiot's Guide to Flirting by Violetwilson

High School/College AU

I Caught Fire by KyloTrashForever

Mountain Springs High School by animal

Epithumia by pontmercy44

Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth

Office/Workplace AU

Sensual Storytime by andabatae

The Food of Love by LovesBitca8

Historical/Dystopia AU

Hiraeth by Ferasha

a manner of virtue by neonheartbeat

The lamb's thirst by animal

Wanted by Inmyownidiom

She Who Would be Queen by sasstasticmad

go i know not whither and fetch i know not what by voicedimplosives

ABO

Knot My First Time by KyloTrashForever

Canonverse/Canon-divergent

variations on a theme of you by diasterisms (Reydar)

i will be the wolf by diasterisms

Sky Marked Souls by AnonymousMink

The Death of Kylo Ren by nymja

World In My Eyes by sasstasticmad

i'm always in this twilight (in the shadow of your heart) by diasterisms

Catch Me I’m Falling by violethoure666

Sword of the Jedi by diasterisms

You'll Be the One to Turn by postedbygaslight

Dark Crown by Violetwilson

Harry Potter AU

Nocturnal Studies And Other Peculiar Magic by WaterlilyRose

Otherwise Modern AU

Pretense by Celia_and

Insta-heart by slipgoingunder

Serotonin and Dopamine by pontmercy44

The Elusive Mating Dance of the Porgus Adorabilis by andabatae

Hanging by a Moment by crossingwinter

WAR DOGS by fulcrumstardust

miles from where you are by Mooncactus

Charcoal by luvkurai

Stay by jeeno2

coarse and rough and irritating by frak-all (or_ryn)

Blades Crossed by the-reylo-void (Anysia)

Embers by sciosophia

Mitan, Midi by animal

Janus by englishable

Say My Name by Graendoll

Thank You for The Music by hipgrab (merrymegtargaryen)

darling, so it goes by akosmia

This is the Sign You've Been Looking For by RebelRebel

Broken Things by midnightbluefox

One-Night Stand by delia-pavorum (literaryminded)

The Rebel Side of Heaven by jeeno2

On The Bumpy Road (To Love) by violethoure666

we could plant a house, we could build a tree by Like_A_Dove

I’d Like My Obituary to Hint at a Sequel by Violetwilson

Only If You Want To by Violetwilson

Not Reylo, Still Awesome

Gingerflower/Gingerrose, Armitage Hux/Rose Tico 

Between Sand and Sea by Brit Hux-Tico (birchwoods01)

If Ever I Would Leave You by Weddersins

Her Yellow Rainboots by Weddersins

Merrical, Cal Kestis/Merrin (Jedi: Fallen Order)

The Stars Alight by FlyingMachine

Heavy Ice by FlyingMachine

Caltrilla, Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri (Jedi: Fallen Order)

No One Else by xanderwilde

call it what you want by xanderwilde

tear you to pieces by xanderwilde

Dramione, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter Universe)

Now Is A Gift by SenLinYu

Sex and Occlumency by Graendoll

Zutara, Katara/Zuko (Avatar: the Last Airbender)

oracle bones by an orphaned account

Fics by Me

Virtue Ethics

Reylo College AU (completed)

Dr. Ben Solo, adjunct philosophy professor and part-time martial arts instructor, discovers a young woman in his Intro to Philosophy course whom he thinks may not actually be enrolled at the University.

Chiasmus

Reylo Role-reversal canonverse AU (WIP)

Scourge of the galaxy, Kira Ren, is tasked by the First Order to eliminate the last of the Jedi. When she captures hotshot podracer Ben Solo to extract Luke Skywalker’s location from him, things do not go according to plan. 

This Dance of Light, This Sacred Blessing

Snapshots of a modern Reylo AU. Smutty, prosey one-shot.

Listen Up, Kid

Canonverse Reylo Post TLJ one-shot

The ghosts of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's past are back to haunt him with a vengeance. A well-meaning, familial kind of vengeance. Or, A Star Wars Carol.

Ben’s Body

Reylo Modern AU (completed)

Rey is an up and coming sculptor specialising in human shape and form. Her new next door neighbour has a body to die for and she's determined to preserve it in marble forever. Now she just has to convince dashing and reclusive Ben to model for her. Preferably naked.

Growin’ Up

Reylo High School AU (completed)

Ben Solo was supposed to only be ruining his own life with his bad decisions. Rey Niima was just trying to pay attention in class. Both get stuck in detention.

Seven Texts, 2 AM

Reylo Modern AU, smutty one-shot

Ben has good reasons not to have sex with his neighbor, Rey. She has other ideas.

Song of the Forest

Reylo Fantasy/BatB/Fairytale AU (completed)

Once upon a time, a girl with an unknown past appeared on the doorsteps of a lord’s manor, and now the forest at the edge of the lord’s property is calling to her.

A Season of Frost & Warmth

Modern Reylo P&P AU (completed)

When Ben shows up to a Halloween party with no costume, it only confirms Rey’s certainty that he is the world’s biggest jerk. Until it comes to light that maybe... he isn’t. 

Follow Me Home

Modern Werewolf Reylo AU (completed)

Rey gets stone drunk and brings home a big cute husky she found in an alley. The next morning, she finds a naked man built like a fridge sleeping on her living room floor, and no dog in sight.

The Gentleness That Comes

Reylo Modern AU one-shot

Underground boxer!Ben is resigned to his life of violence, until he meets a pretty new bartender one night.

Unlikely, Unbidden, Unbound

Gingerflower canonverse AU (WIP)

General Hux is imprisoned by the Resistance when the First Order falls. He had known his death was coming, it was simply a matter of course. He’s disappointed to learn the Resistance has other plans, and an unwavering policy of giving people second chances.

@thereylowritingden @reylofic @nancylovesreylo @grlie-girl @lilia-ula @greyforceuser @tazwren @mhcalamas

[sodalitefully]

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU.  Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense! 

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.  

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job.  “Earn some extra cash,” they said.  “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said.  "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.  

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.  

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day.  Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really.  But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.  

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me.  I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer.  "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point.  Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better.  Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume.  As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on). 

“That’s it. I quit.”  He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy.  "What."  

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?" 

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.  

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once.  But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed. 

He was regretting it now.  Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music.  The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials. 

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax.  Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones... 

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly.  In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.  

"I'm fine.  Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh."  The man nodded in understanding.  "It's not, unfortunately.  I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked.  A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.  

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor.  Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old.  But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff!  We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.  

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin.  "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage.  Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something?  That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea.  "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies!  And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.  

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes.  Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee.   Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job.  In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office.  With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.  

Well, there was no time like the present to get started.  Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray.  He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake. 

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter.  In barely legible green marker, the message read: 

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old.  Please give me a skateboard for Christmas.  My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm.  Five years old was a little young for a skateboard.  Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged.  Why not?  All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud.  It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves.  Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone. 

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer.  Could his siblings be right?  He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time.  He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree.  They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.  

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away.  But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand.  He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies... 

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree.  The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?  

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table.  But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye.  There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed.  The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him. 

"Duff!  What are you doing still awake?" he demanded.  Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned.  "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused.  "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!" 

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff.  "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.  

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents!  I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged.  Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid.  I promise they'll still get their presents, alright?  Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off. 

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break.  Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie. 

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

[foxtophat]

(still trying to figure out how i link these but whatever)

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! i decided to just sit down and hammer out the last edits for this lil one-shot so i could get it out today!

i’m gonna be real with you: the only reason i wrote this fic is because i couldn’t get the idea out of my head.  you weren’t supposed to see mercyverse for another month, honestly!!! but it’s been cold as fuck here and it’s made me fantasize about classic bed-sharing tropes, and so here we are!

this is a bit of a slice of life, to sort of give an idea of how day-to-day these guys all interact, especially now that carmina doesn’t have to pretend john doesn’t exist.  plus, i’m starting to see how the caches might be involved in the overarching plot???? awesome!!!

as usual, the full text is below the cut for my friends who don’t wanna leave tumblr.  i hope you enjoy -- feel free to leave a comment, i loooove hearing from readers. likes and reblogs are also great! kudos are fantastic! adding to the hit counter is just fine by me!!! anything you do to show support for fanfic is a good thing imo.  i hope y’all have a happy wintereenmas or whatever and i will see you guys in 2021 with more mercyverse :)

The best thing Nick can say about the blizzard currently sweeping the county is that he could see that it was coming. They'd gotten almost a foot of snow the night before, which gets him worried about getting snowed in, and as the day progresses, the sky grows an ominous gray that Nick recognizes from a lifetime of living in the area. He knows that they probably only have a few hours left before they're going to want to get inside and avoid the worst a winter storm has to offer.

Nick and John spend the entire morning hauling wood into the house, while Kim does her best to clean out the broken chimney and ensure they won't die of smoke inhalation. They also pull in some pre-made stock that Kim had left in the freezer after it had gotten cold enough to use, as well as a few smaller pieces for miscellaneous projects. But with the storm rolling in overhead, they don't have long; they end up leaving a lot of things for later as the wind whips up around them and turns the snow sideways.

By two in the afternoon, they've closed the doors to officially bunker down for the rest of the blizzard. They have enough wood to last them three days, plus their military rations and plenty of coffee, so Nick isn't particularly concerned about their safety. The only thing he's really got to contend with is boredom, which is easier to stave off in the first few hours of captivity than it is later in the evening.

For the most part, Nick passes the time by sharpening their knives, cleaning their guns, and checking the radio every hour for any emergencies. The blizzard ensures that not many people are on, but at least he gets to check in with Jerome and make sure that Grace is safely in her bunker. It's unlikely they'll get in contact with the trailer park until after the worst passes, but that just means Nick's gonna worry about those jackasses all night.

Kim is probably the only one comfortable with the downtime, making the most of things as she chews on the radio's instructions. When the technical jargon gets to be too much, she switches to entertaining Carmina, who gets bored quick when her only job is to keep the fire going. The easiest distraction comes from card games; the deck they'd had in the bunker had shrunk to only 32 cards, but now that they've got a full deck to work with, Carmina is eager to relearn and master games like Go Fish and Old Maid. Nick doubts Jacob planned to be entertaining kids with his survival gear, but it's not like the guy's gonna complain.

Carmina isn't the only one that Jacob is keeping busy beyond the grave. Ever since they found that cache of his, John has been borderline obsessed with figuring out what the point of it could be. He'll go all day without mentioning the puzzle plaguing him, but any available downtime has him staring at the map and its coordinates. Nick and Kim have both been keeping an eye on it, just in case it turns into something worse than his usual tunnel-vision, but so far it hasn't gotten out of hand. If anything, John seems more aware and alert now that he has something to focus on, and now Nick can even pretend he's a normal guy for conversations at a time before being reminded otherwise.

Of course, the blizzard's making it impossible to find alternate distractions. John does spend part of the afternoon in his room, but eventually, he can't help but come downstairs to mull over the map. There's only one problem with that — they've hung the map up in the radio room, so there's about ten minutes every hour where Nick has no choice but to sit in John's presence. It probably wouldn't bother him so much if there was somewhere else either of them could be, but they're stuck for the foreseeable future. John's looming is just going to be part of Nick's life until the storm passes.

In the interest of keeping the peace, Nick reluctantly tries to have the same level of interest in the random dots that John shows. His attention, however, is distracted by the penciled-in changes that he, Kim and John have all been making to the landscape. The river's wider in some places now, and there are doodles of trees in spaces that were once open fields. A few X's mark places where bridges have collapsed, and Kim's circled anywhere they've made radio contact with. Their notations have scattered across the valley, and have even spread over to the river region thanks to Hurk and his raider gang, but they still don't know anything about the mountains, or even the spaces that are supposedly occupied by bow-wielding religious nutjobs. It's going to be a while before any of them get the nerve to go poking that particular hornet's nest.

John has his little notebook open, but he's not writing anything down. Nick's not sure what he would even put down, since they haven't gotten any more leads since early autumn, but he's always got the thing tucked in a pocket nowadays. Maybe Nick should be mad he outright stole that resource from the rest of them, but — well, come on. He can't yell at the man for taking up journaling, not without flying in the face of every therapist Nick had pretended not to listen to. It's just... well, what the hell is there for him to write down?

"Are you staring for any particular reason?" John asks, because of course he does.

"That's rich, coming from the guy lurking over my shoulder all day." Nick flips off the static-ridden radio frequency, leaning back in his chair so that he can get a better look at the map push-pinned to the wall. "I hear if you look at it just right, you can see a sailboat."

John's clearly not much of a Kevin Smith fan, because he only sighs heavily at Nick's flat joke. "If you have something better for me to be doing, I'm all ears," he says, revealing to Nick at last just how bored he really is. Weirdly enough, being in the same boat as John is somehow reassuring.

"Okay, fine. At least tell me what you're staring at, so I know what to fake interest in."

Even though it's mostly a joke, it lands softly enough that John doesn't take offense. Stuffing the notebook in his back pocket, he shakes his head, gesturing at the map. Getting John to explain himself is usually like pulling teeth, but right now he seems relieved to have someone to bounce his thoughts off of. It's a long way away from the guy Nick remembers saving, enough so that it almost catches his full interest.

"It's nothing in particular, really. I've already spent hours staring at this thing, but I'm... still looking for a pattern, I guess. Jacob was paranoid and secretive, but if there's a hidden code buried in these coordinates, it's beyond me to see it. And the snow was already keeping us from traveling too far — now with this blizzard, we're likely stuck with no new information until spring ..."

John sighs, rubbing his forehead as the pretense finally abandons him. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do until then."

That's certainly a feeling that Nick can relate to. Nick is less of a workaholic than John might be, but that doesn't mean he won't go stir-crazy without his own set of chores. Hell, that's why he's been hanging around the radio in between games of cards with the girls and cleaning whatever he can get his hands on. It must suck extra for John; the guy's been spinning his tires in the dirt for years, probably, and being this close to having a purpose beyond doing whatever chores Nick sets him to must be irritating.

Nick props one leg up against the wall, tapping his boot against the wood as he ponders the dots scattered around the map. There are a few still in the valley, but there's no driving until they thaw out. The points in the mountains are probably inaccessible to anybody, and who knows when they'll get to investigate the old vet center or find the Wolf's Den. There are a couple points nearer the trailer park, though, and not for the first time Nick tries to measure the distance from Hurk to the various red dots. There's one near the lumber mill, and one near where that godawful statue was, and of course one right smack dab in the middle of the original Peggy compound.

Nick can't imagine his truck making it all the way there and back, not without more information about the roads. Hurk might not have the same trouble. "I could send the trailer park a couple coordinates," he points out. "They might get to search before us, and it could cut the work in half."

Despite John's scowl, he only sounds tired as he replies, "I've considered it, but I don't trust them. Then again, I hardly trust myself, so who knows."

"I guess you're shit outta luck, then," Nick says. John takes obvious offense at Nick brushing him off, but hey, what else is Nick supposed to do? "God's giving you a freebie with this blizzard. Maybe you should try catching up on your sleep, or something."

"And ruin the precarious schedule I'm keeping?"

"Jesus, then go read a book! Just — you know, quit hovering over me all day. Don't you know how to entertain yourself?"

John seems unphased by Nick's half-hearted outburst. "This is how I entertain myself. Maps, resources, legal documents — that's probably the only decent outlet I've ever had." He stares at Nick's boot, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At least, it's the only one healthy enough to keep."

That is probably a safe bet, Nick realizes, quickly trying to backpedal away from the open scab that is John's history. "Uh, well, what about before the cult?"

John surprises them both with a brief laugh. "If I could source some coke, then yes, I would be entertained."

"Jesus, John."

"I'm not known for my healthy self-care habits," John points out, a little too smug to be truly self-deprecating. At least he seems to understand what Nick had been getting at originally, deferring with a vague hand-wave. "Is my loitering in the kitchen going to be too smothering for you, too, or is that okay?"

Nick rolls his eyes, flipping the radio back on to scan the channels once again. "It's fine, whatever. Just as long as you've got something better to entertain yourself than snaking the whiskey Jacob left."

"I'm more of a gin guy," John admits.

"Of course you are."

It's still a relief, though, knowing they aren't keeping an alcoholic too near his fix. On top of that, John's relaxed disregard for his past vices settles nerves Nick hadn't even realized were rattled. Sure, there's probably a whole other box of American Psycho- esque worms waiting to be opened up from John's time before Eden's Gate, but at least he seems to have comfortably packed that part of his life away for now. Unlike talking about the cult, John has no trouble dropping the conversation, just as casually as he'd brought it up. He retreats into the kitchen to mull over whatever he's written down already, leaving behind no traumatic story or sad-eyed stare — just the casual admission that he would really like to do some drugs.

Weirdly enough, that is probably the most respectable thing about John to date.

Nick spends another fifteen minutes checking the radio, scanning the channels he knows people use most. He winds up with nothing to show for it — either the storm is making radio communication impossible, or everybody else has given up on their radios. It's only after he's cleared the range twice that he flips the radio off and escapes back to Kim and Carmina, leaving John in the kitchen with a broad, somehow-sarcastic gesture towards the now unoccupied radio nook.

Carmina ropes Nick into a game of Go Fish, which Kim seems keen on losing. Nick isn't surprised — Carmina is a wily player, which is to say that she tries to bluff her way through hands with all the grace of a sledgehammer. Kim's not as willing to put up with cheating as Nick is, but neither of them are capable of even pretending to believe Carmina's poker face. It's going to be a problem one day, but Nick isn't exactly ready to teach his daughter how to lie to his face.

Well, that is until she and Nick are on their third round of Go Fish, and Nick has had to pretend not to see through all of Carmina's gambits.

He asks her if she has any threes, and she scrunches her nose up as she glances meaningfully at her cards. "Go fish," she says, making Nick regret not having Kim sit right behind their daughter as a referee.

"Fine," he grumbles, "If you say so."

Kim blinks skeptically at the pants she's fixing, but she doesn't offer Nick any out. If it weren't for his clumsy hands, maybe he could use darning socks and patching shirts as an excuse to quit playing, but as it stands, the only thing he has other than getting trounced is staring at the map with John. And since he already tried that and found it to be mildly aggravating at best...

"You know, this would be more fun with more people," Nick says, desperately glancing at Kim.

Kim, of course, gives him no quarter. "Why don't you ask John," she suggests rhetorically.

"John," Carmina calls out, "Do you wanna play Go Fish?"

Nick opens his mouth to chastise Carmina, but he realizes there's nothing to discipline her for. Especially not when John flippantly replies, "I think your father's looking to play with fewer cheaters, not more."

"I'm not cheating!" Carmina exclaims, not-so-surreptitiously pressing her cards into her lap to ensure nobody's looking at them. Between that and her guiltily furrowed brow, there's no hiding it. Her poker face needs a lot of work.

"Go Fish isn't even worth cheating at," Nick sighs, gesturing for her cards. "If that's the way you wanna play, at least do it the right way. Here, gimme your cards — John, come over here so I can teach my daughter how to lie to your face."

As if playing a game of cards with John wasn't enough to excite Carmina, she's doubly over the moon when he tells her the rules. After all, a ten-year-old girl is the prime demographic for the game Bullshit, especially when she's given carte blanche to shout cuss words at her dad. On top of that, it seems like bluffing really is half of the fun for his daughter — which is a little intimidating, sure, but at least he knows she's smart enough to understand the utility of lying.

John is... unenthusiastic, to say the least, but that only makes the prospect of humiliating him that much better. A few weeks ago, Nick would've thought John was too fragile to be messed with, but now there's a bounce in his step that will make taking him down easier. He's got to do something to remind himself that this nearly-tolerable man is usually a miserable sonofabitch.

Unfortunately, John has a fantastic poker face. Nick figured that from the get-go, but it's still daunting to play against a bored, uninterested party. That's probably why Carmina avoids John in favor of hounding Nick, calling out "bullshit!" with delightful glee whenever she thinks Nick has dropped the wrong face card or played a nine instead of a King. On the one hand, Nick appreciates that he can read her as well as she can, but on the other hand, he'd really like a chance to beat John. So far, he's the only one who's called John out, and all he has to show for it is the extra six cards in his hand.

Although Kim is on standby for this round, she keeps flashing Nick amused grins whenever Carmina calls bullshit. Nick almost hopes John can hold it together to be mundane for two entire rounds of cards because he wouldn't stand a chance against Kim.

Case in point, John lays down two cards that are meant to be threes, and Kim clicks her tongue disapprovingly. Carmina frowns up at her mom, who only shrugs and suggests, "I would call him out, if I were you."

John's neutral frown doesn't change. "Last I checked, you weren't playing," he says.

Kim only shrugs in response. Nick furrows his brow at Kim while Carmina squints suspiciously from the discard pile to John and then back again. Of course, encouraging a ten-year-old to swear is always going to win out, and so Carmina wrinkles her nose and calls John out with a slightly uncertain, "Okay, bullshit."

Without so much as a grimace of defeat, John lets Carmina flip his played cards — one three, and one dirty, rotten, lying, bullshit seven .

"That's what I thought," Kim says, flippantly triumphant. "Guess you're not as hard to read as you thought."

Nick sure can't tell what John's thinking as he lifts one shoulder noncommittally. "I stand corrected."

"Wait," Nick asks, "What gave it away?"

"I'm not helping you too , Nick," Kim laughs. "That wouldn't be fair."

"It's not exactly fair to help Carmina," John points out. Nick bets he's just as interested in what tell Kim noticed, although he manages to be less obvious about it. At least he can't crack Kim's smug smile any better than Nick, which is some small compensation.

Nick manages to win this hand, if only because his play strategy involves lying as little as possible. That seems to work against Carmina no problem, but Nick suspects John threw the game out of personal disinterest. If it weren't for the howling winds whistling through the roof and second story, John would probably excuse himself from another hand by retreating upstairs, but as it is he manages to sit through one more round of cards, this time with Kim joining in.

Carmina's poker-face doesn't improve by leaps and bounds, exactly, but she manages to fool Nick into picking up a fat stack of cards, so that's something. Too bad he'd been trying to teach her to lie to John , not her parents. Well — at least she's a nice enough kid to only do it for fun. He hopes, anyway.

Kim makes John's loss look more organic, at least, and she doesn't rub it in too badly when she wins. It's extra kind of her considering Nick is the one who called her last play bullshit, leaving him to rot in miserable third place after both his girls. Well, fine . At least Carmina seemed to have fun, even if Nick is now sitting with nearly half a deck in his hands. If the blizzard keeps up for too long, they might have to graduate to poker.

Before they can play any more card games, though, they take time out for dinner. It's almost normal, sitting around the fireplace with their military rations and some hot broth — if they were eating Marie Calendar pot-pies and watching Christmas movies, Nick would even be able to ignore John's presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

The next best thing to watching movies is talking about them, which has become something of a tradition between the Ryes. It all started in the bunker, where Kim and Nick ran out of normal Christmas stories and began taking turns narrating whatever holiday movies they could remember. They've run through all the memorable Rankin & Bass flicks, as well as a couple more contemporary ones, so they're starting to reach for their personal favorites or the very bottom of the barrel plots.

Nick intends to be paying Jingle All the Way a tribute tonight, but as soon as he mentions that the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle is one of his favorites, he's interrupted by John snorting derisively.

"Let me guess," Nick snaps, "You're one of those jackasses who pretends Die Hard is a legitimate Christmas movie just so he doesn't have to watch good, family-friendly content."

"It is a legitimate Christmas movie," John responds, just petulantly enough to tell Nick he hit the nail on the head.

"Look, Kim and I have already had this discussion — just because it takes place during Christmas doesn't make it a Christmas movie . Set dressing alone isn't enough!"

John raises his eyes towards the ceiling, which is as subtle as his eyerolls can get. "Whatever you say, Nick."

"What's Die Hard about?" Carmina asks, excitedly guessing, "Does Santa get to shoot people in it?"

"That would be a good Christmas movie," Nick replies. "No, it's just about some guy who has to fight bad guys in a building."

"During Christmas," Kim points out.

"Okay, fine during Christmas. But nobody's dressed up like Santa, nobody sings any carols, and there sure as hell isn't any Christmas magic that saves the day, so it doesn't count!"

"So what does happen?" Carmina asks.

Damn it — Nick should have known that talking about an action flick would immediately disinterest her towards any sloppy story about consumerism. She doesn't even know what a mall is — but she knows how to shoot a handgun, and now that Nick's thinking about it, she might need to use the duct-tape shoulder holster trick one day. It would be pretty bad-ass if she knew how, anyway.

"Okay, fine, I'll do it real quick. I don't remember all the parts, so Kim, you gotta help."

Real quick turns out to take almost as much time as the movie itself had. Kim interjects whenever Nick forgets a plot point, but at least he remembers the core conflict. Sort of, anyway — by the time he's done recounting John McClane's tale, John looks visibly dissatisfied, and Kim has a "well, sort of" expression on her face that implies he didn't quite nail the execution. Well, who cares what they think? All that matters is that Carmina is entertained, and of course she is. After all, narrated or not, it's still Die Hard . Just so long as she doesn't ask about the sequels, they should be okay.

The wind is still whipping overhead, and Nick can see nothing beyond the windows. There's no telling how late it's gotten. Although his internal clock insists it can't have been that long since sundown, Carmina has been yawning for a while now, and the fire's gone down again. It looks like sleeping through the storm is the only pastime left for Nick to try.

Carmina takes over stoking the fire for the final time before bed, while Kim makes her way upstairs to gather as much of their bedding as she can carry. John follows reluctantly behind, clearly unhappy with the prospect of facing his own cold room, but Nick figures he can deal for five damn minutes. For his part, Nick busies himself checking the radio one last time, just in case there's an emergency. He doesn't know what they'd be able to do if there was one, but that doesn't stop him from checking anyway.

With the radio situated just under the stairs, it's easy to listen in to Kim stomping around in the room above, desperate to keep her temperature up. Nick had put off too many attic repairs before this winter — he's going to have to make up for that in spring, when he and John can worm their way into the rafters and ensure that their next winter won't turn the bedrooms into a cold wasteland. Of course, even if they did patch up the gaps in the floorboards and do their best to insulate the attic, not much can beat a genuine fire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Nick isn't even paying attention to the radio, so he flips it off and trusts that everyone can keep themselves safe for another night. He hears the whump of fabric as Kim tosses their two biggest, least moldy blankets down for Carmina to start with, and the creak of footsteps on the landing overhead. Kim's voice isn't raised, but it carries down to Nick clear as a bell.

"John, you'll freeze if you stay up here," she says. "Get your stuff and come downstairs."

"It's not that cold," John says, attempting to deflect from one weak excuse with another. "I doubt Nick approved that suggestion."

Well, not technically, no, but Nick had sort of assumed they were already all on the same page. What does John think Nick's gonna do, force him to freeze upstairs so he can hog the fireplace all to himself?

Kim doesn't give the excuses a chance to breathe, replying with parental exasperation. "He and I both agree it's too cold to sleep upstairs." Nick can hear the teasing plain as day when she adds, "Just don't be weird about it."

Sure enough, suggesting John might be making things awkward is enough to get him to shut up and follow orders. Nick briefly longs for the days when John would mutely nod and do as told without any additional goading, but only for a second. Even that is long enough retrospection to remind Nick of how creepy and genuinely alarming it had been. Sure, John might get argumentative or exasperated now, but at least there's an actual person to communicate with. Nick might want to kick his ass more now than before, but he absolutely hated dealing with the hollow-eyed monster John had been.

Besides, it's way more satisfying being a dick to him now that he actually gets offended.

Despite John's furrowed-brow glares, Nick doesn't comment whatsoever on him trailing downstairs after Kim, clutching two actual blankets and a tarp that's weather-worn enough to pass muster. He stands and waits for someone to point him in the right direction as Kim and Carmina do their best to bundle together a soft place on the floor, but Nick studiously ignores him until he makes a decision himself. John takes a spot close to the fireplace, off to the right of where the girls are setting up. It's still plenty removed enough, so that nobody will get the wrong idea and think John is supposed to be welcome down here. Nick wonders who he's trying to convince, but there are so many damn demons in the man's head, it's anybody's guess.

With the fire roaring for the last time that night, all the blankets arranged and everybody looking exhausted despite not doing anything all day, Nick finally gets to crawl into bed and put this whole goddamn blizzard behind him. Hopefully, the weather has the common sense to clear up tomorrow — for now, it's time to shut out the cold entirely.

He must be tired. Nick barely stays conscious as Kim and Carmina climb under the blankets, the cool air rapidly warming as they begin to shift around and get comfortable. He rouses a few times at first as Carmina kicks his leg and Kim bumps into him, but eventually, he finds himself dozing in the silence of a quiet house. Far above them, the wind is whipping through the attic, but from down here, it sounds like a generic white-noise machine; coupled with the crackling fire, Nick is lulled to sleep by the sounds of peaceful normalcy.

Who knows how long it is before Nick finds himself conscious again. Even then, he only wakes enough to hear the dying fire popping by his feet. Maybe he should stoke it. But that would mean moving, and Nick is weighted down on either side beneath warm blankets, so that's a hard no. He tries first to roll towards Kim and Carmina, ready to curl into a ball and conserve even more heat, but his right arm is stuck. It takes a few bleary-eyed blinks to realize what's pinned him down, but he's barely coherent enough to make sense of it.

Sometime in the night, John must've migrated from the no-man's-land he'd made for himself towards the Rye's pile of blankets. Unsurprising, really — but more than a little awkward, given how he's pressed into Nick's side, pinning Nick's arm in place. Worse yet, half of his blankets have been absorbed into the mess that Nick's been using to keep warm, which is going to make extracting himself tricky if not impossible.

While he tries to figure out how to avoid making this mortifying situation worse, Nick watches John for any signs of consciousness. The guy usually sleeps light, but Nick watches his breathing for a solid minute and doesn't catch anything. Either his poker-face is just that good, or John is actually asleep. Deeply, peacefully asleep. Nick had assumed that was impossible.

If Nick were a better person, he'd probably be thankful to see it. Glad to know that John's insomnia might finally be coming to an end. But Nick is mostly just an exhausted, anxious mess, and now he's just wondering how to get out of the situation he's found himself in.

John shifts, and like a guilty ten-year-old, Nick immediately closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. If he's lucky, John will roll away of his own volition, or at least move enough to let Nick roll over himself. If only he'd decided to sleep on Kim's side — she wouldn't have the same trouble Nick has. She'd just kick him away and be done with it.

Slowly, John moves away from Nick. The relief is short-lived as John pulls back the covers enough to send a cold chill down Nick's side; it's a split-second decision that John immediately regrets, hissing under his breath and letting the blankets fall back into place as he recoils from the freezing temperatures.

Nick can't help his quiet huff of amusement — which is enough to break the illusion that he'd been asleep in the first place. He could probably still fake it, but if he does, John will definitely try to move his blankets, and that is going to be a much bigger problem than tolerating John in his personal space.

"Quit squirming so much," Nick mutters. "Gonna let in the cold."

John is silent and tense beside him, but he does stop squirming. It's like lying near a tense bar of iron. After a brief struggle to figure out what to say, John's embarrassment catches in his voice as he apologizes. "I'm sorry," he rasps. "I — must have been tired."

Nick sighs. "Just don't crush my arm again."

Even though John moves as though Nick threatened him, he stops short of retreating from the blankets entirely. Nick can only imagine how cold it must be — every breath of his that makes it above the blanket-line comes with a faint puff of visible air. No matter how humiliating it might be to cuddle up to Nick, it doesn't seem like John had much of a choice in the matter.

Before John can decide to try escaping again, Nick repeats, "Whatever you do, don't let in the cold."

In for a penny, Nick decides, worming deeper into the makeshift bed so that John can have more room. Rolling over is the easiest way to avoid the mortifying process of finding a comfortable sleeping arrangement. Eventually, they wind up back-to-back; Nick normally wouldn't be able to stand John touching him, but the additional body-heat does a lot to soothe Nick's reservations. Who knew all he needed to tolerate John's physical presence would be cold weather and exhaustion?

The Deputy, probably, which only makes Nick grin in tired relief. At least they would be glad to know that Nick's grown as a person. They'd probably be glad to learn he's finally gotten on-board with not murdering the Seeds in cold blood — even if it took an apocalypse to get there. If they could see the shit he's gotten himself into now, they'd probably...

He sighs. It must be a heavier sound than he imagined, because John whispers, "What?"

"Nothing," Nick says immediately, as default an answer as John's yeses are. But that's not fair, he doesn't think, because they never let John get away with his obvious deflections. As late as it is, it's easy to blame his guilt on his exhaustion. "Just thinking about Rook," he admits.

"Oh."

John is clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but he doesn't react when Nick continues sleepily, "They'd get a kick outta this, is all."

John hums. It's a quiet noise, but Nick can feel it vibrate through John's shirt. If there are two people Nick hates bringing Rook up around, it's Sharky and John. Sure, Sharky's crush was the one that was reciprocated, but Dep had always treated John's flat-footed overtures like creepy compliments instead of outright threats. They'd probably figured John's crush was superficial, whereas Sharky's had been more real than probably anything else Nick had seen the poor sap go through. John's infatuation had been about power, control, and Joseph goddamn Seed. Still, Nick can't help but wonder just how much of it might've been real to John at the time.

"They had a bad sense of humor," John finally responds, quietly enough that Nick almost misses the hurt.

"Terrible," Nick agrees.

When John sighs, Nick recognizes it as a sign of defeat. Whatever he's debating with himself, he's clearly lost. Although he doesn't speak up again, Nick isn't sure he's gone back to sleep. He sure hopes he didn't just instill another restless night in the guy, but that's John's burden to bear. Maybe he can use it to finally find some common ground with Sharky.

Nick isn't even sure that he can fall back asleep, but that doesn't seem to matter. Before he knows it, he's being woken up once more — this time by a glance of sunlight coming in through the upper part of the windows. It's just enough light to wake him, but he spends an exhausted minute staring at the wall over Kim's shoulder as he debates whether or not he's really committing this time. He's going to need to use the bathroom sooner or later — and just thinking that is enough to tell Nick that he's not getting back to sleep again.

John's back is still facing Nick, and Kim rolls away as soon as Nick starts to squirm, which leaves his path to escape much more open than it was a few hours ago. He manages to pull himself free without waking anyone else, but as soon as he does, John worms into the warm spot left behind. Nick should probably be upset, but mostly he just needs to pee. He can kick John out of his spot after he takes care of himself.

Nick leaves the rest of them to sleep as he tiptoes across the living room to the front door. Unfortunately, the door only wedges open an inch before it hits a wall of snow. Unwilling to wake anyone else up with catastrophic noise, Nick heads upstairs, going for the broken window in John's room. It's freezing up here, cold enough to keep meat until spring, and Nick pulls his flannel closer as he crosses the room, trying not to take too much stock of his surroundings. He doesn't care about the tallies John used to carve in the wall by his bed, and he definitely doesn't care to snoop through the pile of clothes that John's been growing in the corner. What he does care about is how easy it is to crawl out onto the roof from the window — after all, this isn't the first time Nick's been snowed in, and he's made escaping his childhood home an art-form.

There's a good three and a half feet of snow on the ground below, blocking any exit from the first floor. At least the gray sky above is calm, and the weather seems to have calmed down some. They'll have to prepare for another couple of inches before the week's out, but Nick bets the worst of it is over. Now he can think about breakfast — more specifically, coffee — and debate the best way to clear the doorways. They need a path out to the hangar, although they can wait another day or two before they'll need to press the matter. Nick's still convinced there's a set of tire chains hiding away in there, but it's not like the roads will be in any condition to drive on for a while yet...

Nick spends so much time thinking about what he's got to do, he forgets to consider how willing the rest of the house will be to pitch in. The top-of-the-snow sunlight isn't enough heat to make up for the lack of a fire, and getting Kim out from under the blankets is gonna be like pulling teeth until he does something about it. Worse yet, John's rolled into the spot Nick had occupied — not exactly sprawled out, or anything, but the guy is irritatingly close to Kim's sleeping back. If he decided to roll one more time, he'd probably end up smacking his face into her shoulder.

Nick considers throwing a fit on principle, but honestly, that's too much work. It's much easier to sulk, glowering at the bed he's definitely not getting back into before getting some logs to stack in the fire. He drops them noisily by John's feet, although he makes every effort not to accidentally pull a Misery on the guy.

The sound of hollow wood clattering on the ground is enough to stir John, who wakes with a sharp inhale, and cause Carmina to groan and turn away from the noise. Kim has probably been awake for a while now, but it won't make a lick of difference until the fire's on.

He turns away to toss the logs semi-haphazardly into the fireplace, then remembers the kindling and turns to get it. John has propped himself on his elbows, but his half-waking confusion causes him to overlook Nick entirely as he stares around the room. Seeing Kim and Carmina asleep next to him is initially met with confusion. He barely seems to recognize the shapes bundled in the blankets, but when he does he recoils in shock. All the nasty comments Nick had thought up take an abrupt backseat as he stops to marvel at the physical repulsion John shows. He's not sure if he should be offended or not. Probably not, but this apocalypse has got Nick wired all wrong.

"She's not gonna bite," Nick says. John whips his attention back to Nick the moment he raises his voice, only for Nick to realize that looming over the guy with a thick block of wood in hand might send the wrong message.

Sure enough, John catches sight of him, jerking back with a startled hiss. " Jesus !"

"Shit, sorry." Nick turns and drops the log, wincing at the noise that he'd moments ago been deliberately making. "Well, judging from that reaction, looks like this isn't the first time a man's caught you in bed with his wife."

John's withering glare is enough to lift Nick's mood right up. He turns his attention back to starting the fire, listening as John slowly shifts his way free of the blankets. Part of him wants to make a few more jokes at John's expense, but that can wait until John's coherent enough to be snide in return.

Nick gets the fire going and turns to follow John, who's made his way into the kitchen to peer out the window. "Completely snowed in," Nick tells him as he gets the instant coffee and the beat-up kettle. "But it looks like the worst of it's over."

"Seems to be," John agrees, adding, "We forgot the shovels in the truck. It's going to be difficult digging them out now."

"Not a lot of other options, unless you wanna stay inside until the big thaw. Don't worry, I'm sure Carmina will be excited to help us dig."

John hums in assent, although his mind seems to be somewhere else. Nick can't help but notice that John's pensive states seem damned near reasonable nowadays. He has plenty to think about, and he seems to be keeping one foot in the here-and-now. He's aware enough of his surroundings that he stops Nick before he can leave John to it.

He tries to stare Nick down, but he can't quite manage it. "Thank you for not..."

John gestures vaguely as the rest of the sentence fails to generate. Nick could probably wait it out, but he's just as embarrassed as John apparently is, and he would rather move past the whole thing.

"Don't worry about it," Nick says. "Just don't get too comfortable cuddling up to me."

Rolling his eyes doesn't hide John's faint smile, but he turns away before Nick can see if it lasts. "That won't be a problem, trust me."

Nick is surprised that he does, even for something as small and inconsequential as a joke. "Grab the mugs when you're done looking for Santa," he says, turning back for the warmth of the fire. A few months ago, Nick might've resented how eroded the line has become between John and his own family, but it's honestly too much work to keep up. At a certain point, they're just going to have to include John in their daily routines — Nick just hadn't expected that point to be made by sharing blankets during a blizzard.

Well, there's one good thing about that, Nick supposes — it means that somewhere up there, the Deputy is watching over them. After all, there's no way in hell random chance has the same shitty sense of humor as Rook had.

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Walking Dead: Lines We Cross (10x01)

I did not actively dislike watching this, which is about as good as it gets for me when it comes to The Walking Dead. Objectively, this was a pretty good premiere!

Cons:

I do not blame the child actor for this, but the little boy they have playing RJ is... bad. I know some people who say Chandler Riggs was bad as Carl, but I always thought he did a serviceable job, even in the early seasons when he was just a little kid. But RJ is just wow. Distracting. Every line delivery stilted and strange. Especially when he's compared with the girl playing Judith, who actually does a pretty good job.

I have a theory about the Carol/Daryl situation. At the end of last season, they signaled romance between the two of them very hard. But in this premiere, they seem to be splitting the difference, trying to cater both to the shippers, and to those who see them as only friends. There was an almost sibling-like banter to Carol and Daryl for a lot of this episode, as Carol makes fun of Daryl for calling her his "best friend." But then the language shifts to them talking about "running away together," which is pretty romantic, no matter which way you look at it. I feel like they're trying to have the best of both worlds, falling into the classic TV trap of "will they, won't they" to keep audiences on the hook. This is Season Ten. It's time to stop messing around with long drawn out character arcs that make so little progress you can barely see them moving.

Pros:

Honestly, though, for the most part I found this premiere invigorating. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. The opening scene was a great way to start out, as we see a bunch of our characters on a beach in military formation with archers and infantry and shields, all practicing on a group of beach Walkers that are trapped in an isolated location. It was cool to see an organized force, and nice to see them practicing. They're doing what they should have done back in the prison, or when they first got to Alexandria - really preparing people for the realities of their world. I also continue to be impressed with new creative Walker designs. The driftwood zombie at the start of this episode was really creepy and well done!

There's something inherently comical about Rosita and her three men raising her new baby together. I'm fully prepared to hate this plot line later on, as it might turn in to something unbelievably stupid. But for now I like the interplay of Gabriel being all serious and dead inside, and Eugene charting everything about the baby's behavior, and Siddiq sliding in and out of pretty severe PTSD while trying to adjust to fatherhood. This is a plot thread to watch out for - it could break either way, but I'm looking forward to seeing what's next.

Sometimes I think to myself - what the heck is Negan doing here? But then Jeffrey Dean Morgan is an undeniably charming guy, and in some ways I get why he's still around. I still wish they would have killed him off, and I think that letting him live made the final confrontation with the Saviors much weaker. But if we're taking the long view, having Negan here is like having a human symbol of the future Carl and Rick were fighting for. He's still sleeping in a cell every night, he's still being watched by a guard, but he has somewhat integrated into society, and helps out in the gardens. With time, maybe he really will "pay his debt to society" or whatever, and integrate even more.

Despite the poor boy playing RJ's unfortunate performance, I really liked the scene where Judith told RJ the story of Rick's (supposed) death. Judith has actually been a lot of fun. The actress does a great job, and she also acts as yet another symbol of the future, of what a kid can look like in this world. She has never known a life before the zombie apocalypse, but she's still a kind and caring kid who goes to school and looks after her little brother. She's also a bad-ass who gets to come out on training assignments and kill Walkers with the grownups. This show has killed off some characters over the years that I never thought they'd kill off, but the main examples are Carl and Henry. I thought the show needed a child at its center, a symbol of what everyone was fighting so hard to achieve. I hope they don't kill off Judith, as she has become that symbol, and I think it's something that is sorely needed.

As I mentioned, I'm feeling ambivalent about Carol and Daryl and the direction they're going. I want romance, but I think they're going to tease us to the point of irritation. That said, I really liked their scenes together. Carol is acting almost too chipper, having taken to spending her time out on the sea, running errands for Oceanside and Alexandria that keep her away from the greater community. This is clearly a coping mechanism over losing Henry, and while she does seem content, there's always the very real chance that it's going to come crashing back around her now that Alpha appears to be returning. And Daryl is coping in his own way, stuck somewhere between being a loner and being part of the community. We see how happy he is to see Carol. We see him and Michonne reminiscing about Rick, as they talk about how nice it was to bring the kids to the beach. We see him learning some clumsy sign language to communicate with Connie. (If it weren't for Carol, by the way, I'd totally be on board for a Daryl/Connie romance, and I don't think I'll be all that mad if that's where they're going with this).

There are other things going on in this episode, little plot hooks that will be tugged on later - Aaron's isolationist and bleak world-view contrasted to Michonne's hopefulness. Ezekiel trying to find new purpose in his life. Connie's sister having trouble with her hearing, threatening Connie's ability to communicate without her interpreter. A satellite crashes to Earth and Eugene is interested in the potential technology. But all of these threads will develop more fully a little later on. I'll end this review by turning to the looming threat of the Whisperers.

We see our communities getting on with their lives after the painful double-disaster of the Whisperers' attack, and the big snow storm, several months ago. There are hints that they are well aware of the potential threat of the Whisperers returning, but they are mostly just doing their best to stay out of their territory and keep calm and carry on. As the episode ends, the satellite falling causes a fire and forces them into the Whisperers' territory in order to prevent that fire from spreading, and as the episode ends, we see Alpha staring up at Carol, the enmity bright in both of their eyes.

I'm pretty excited for this show-down. Alpha killed Carol's son, and from Alpha's perspective, Carol stole Alpha's daughter. The Whisperers were a really interesting and different villain last season, and I hope they don't overstay their welcome the way the Saviors did. But for now, I'm still on board.

That's that! I know a lot of people have been talking about the new show runner, and what this means for reinvigorating The Walking Dead. Speaking for myself, I have definitely felt disenchanted with the show for several years now, even as there have been moments, episodes, or characters that still intrigued me. I am excited for the show to improve, even while I privately feel that it should probably bow out before too much longer!

8.5/10

[madamhatter]

friendlyneighbourhoodscientist inquired:  ✵ + Komui x Sophie~ Send me a ✵ + a ship and i’ll tell you who does what at christmas! | accepting ! | @friendlyneighbourhoodscientist​

Who spends hours putting up lights only to get tangled in them and storm off? Oh, sweet Komui decided upon himself that he would decorate the apartment this year to surprise his partner. He surely doesn’t have any ulterior motives to decorate the house like avoiding completing paperwork and grading papers as a university professor. Not at all! However, the apparent curse of messiness that comes with Komui strikes again as he begins unboxing decorations from last year and it all begins piling up. Towering the living room now are new decorations and the lights are now partially covered by the unhung stockings and other assortments of holiday decor. Let’s just say Komui abandoned ship and was caught by his loving assistant when she came back home. Who accidentally eats a whole box of Christmas chocolates in one sitting? Komui would be guilty of munching away on sweets while working at his desk. Several of the faculty gifted the young professor sweets as a present, hoping it wouldn’t cause a disastrous mess like last time. Additionally, they gifted some to his partner, given how frequently she visits his office and is his “unofficial” T.A. Sophie isn’t a fan of chocolates, so she will graciously offer them to Komui in a hurry, kissing him quick, before she needs to run back to work.  Who insists on watching the cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies? Taking advice from her sisters, and wanting to indulge in domestic life, Sophie would ask her partner on the occasion to sit down and watch some “classic” movies with her. I believe she would try (American) Hallmark Christmas movies before she sinks in the couch, slightly confused by some plots (or how several of them are ripped off from classical books). Komui, kindly, would sit beside his partner and drinking his coffee, keeping himself awake and his partner company. Though, I see that the movies would be changed to actual classic movie films (being Rankin & Bass movies since Sophie adores those). Who insists on playing nothing but Michael Buble in the few days running up to Christmas? Stuck in an office or alcove for most of her life, Sophie wouldn’t want anything more to find herself whisked away in her imagination or any of the daydreams she dreamt up as a kid. While she finds herself compromised, happily dating Komui yet also working still as the company head, Sophie will begin taking new strides. One of them being playing more holiday songs both at Komui’s office and their shared apartment. In both occasions, the 5′4″/162 cm woman would take her 6′4″/193 cm by the hand and guide him into a dance! She doesn’t mind the height difference and she would take the lead, mouthing out the words to cover songs by Michael Buble, showing Komui some proper dance moves~! Who gets their presents wrapped at the mall so the other cant go snooping? Truth be told, I wouldn’t find them resorting to this method. As far as surprises go, the mad scientist and mad hatter tend to live on spontaneity, given how the other inspires the other. I could see them using their schedules instead to wrap their presents at their apartment when the other isn’t there. However, if I had to pick, maybe it would be Komui, especially if it was during finals week before the holidays. Bless that man but this schedule would be BUSY. Who insists on making snow angels? I see this as a toss-up! I could see either suggesting this arrangement, depending on the timeline of the relationship (pre-dating, dating, etc.). I could see Komui suggesting at points since Sophie hesitates and skirts around A LOT when it comes to her own feelings and wants. He’s rather well-read in her body language -- already finding it cute with her over-reactions and quick timing. Sophie would suggest would doing it if there isn’t any person there and it’s early in the morning while walking to the bus stop. Though, she would profusely apologize and blush, realizing how soggy their clothes would end up. 

Who put Christmas outfits on all the pets? The Komulin series 100% count as pets (or children) and it’s a joint effort. Sophie would be more open to messing with the idea of creating matching sweaters (or accessories) for the robots. Komui is interested in the idea, already very affectionate of his works. Even if they’re considered state-of-the-art robots, the older versions still need the same love and maintenance when they can’t perform their particular functions for a while.  Do they go to family’s or have a quiet day in? Forever honor-bound to their families, far too dedicated in their work, Komui and Sophie would spend their holiday with their family (being their sisters and Sophie’s stepmother). I could see them actually inviting their loved ones over and getting ready for a wonderful Christmas dinner. Though I’ll be honest, I could see them going the extra step in inviting their family to stay over for the 25th (or staying for a few days). I could see them wanting a quiet day in, but it could be possible with family too.

Who insists on wearing matching ugly Christmas jumpers? Komui Lee is enamored with the idea of sporting an ugly Christmas sweater and any of Sophie’s creations. It wouldn’t be on Sophie’s lists of considerations to even consider making matching sweaters. But, if Komui mentions it to her, she will definitely take the extra step to make the matching sweaters, which they both would proudly wear around at home. Komui, however, definitely wears it out and happily boasts it.  Who waits up until midnight to give the other their present? Disastrous schedules that these two have, I could see the two of them trying to sleep in on the 24th. However, with enough tossing and turning from Sophie, I could imagine Komui’s snapping from his deep snoring to note her restlessness. It would be from there that Sophie would suggest giving him her present because she just can’t wait to, damn it! Who insists on hand-made presents only one year? Neither! Komui is an expert tinker and Sophie is a mastered hatmaker, making things handmade is already in their systems. I could see Komui considering extra items for Christmas, however, if he wanted to get the right reactions from Sophie.  Who puts mistletoe on every door frame? By no means would Sophie ever attempt doing this. Even in her relationship with Komui, she wouldn’t even attempt or humor the thought of hanging up mistletoes. However, there is certainly a problem when your partner is an entire foot taller than you and could easily place back up all the mistletoes that took you more than an hour to take down. I would say that Komui would be up to these kinds of games, even going as far as hanging a mistletoe above him while Sophie jumps on her feet to get that darn thing! And then he can sneak in a kiss while she’s jumping and :’) my heart Who gets too drunk at the work Christmas party and has to be picked up at 9:15pm? Alcohol and Sophie do not go well together when she has to continue doing her work as a CEO/company head. If she is made to go to an event with numerous associates, affiliates, and partners, she would MOST likely get herself drunk on the basis of ‘social drinking,’ when she’s using it as a terrible form of anxiety coping. Thankfully, with Komui as her plus one, they could easily leave the party together. If it was at Komui’s place of work, however, I would find that the scientist keeps his intake in check -- as opposed to his obsession with coffee.  Who gets angry and almost tells kids that Santa isn’t real? Oh god no? I can’t see them getting so angry to tell ANY child that. However, I do fear the thought of Komui and Sophie getting deep into the conversation about Santa and when they spoke to their sisters about the truth about Santa. It might slip up with any curious ears around. Though, in an odd way, I could see Komui humoring wanting to tell the child early if they’re entirely persistent to prove it’s scientifically possible for Santa to exist and some robotics experts can’t tell them otherwise! But, he would take a step back, encouraging the child to pursue his theory while Sophie is nodding along, keeping her cool.

[the-nysh]

Bkdk fic recs? Not any particular genre/setting; just stories that you fell in love with.

Ohoo!! *___* Yes, do I have a handful of them! Time to go through mypersonal notes and share what I’ve saved!

First up are some of my fav prolificauthors (and their well-known, must-read fics), whose attention to detail, emotionaldepth, and characterizations I trust and therefore I would read anything they write of the pair:

 @atomicblonde/lalazee (Blood Moon), for writingsome of the most riveting emotional roller coasters, whose power with words anddialogue can both raze mountains and completely swoon you asunder with theirintensity. All her fics are worth reading (and there are plenty!) But I thinkthe one that particularly touched me most was Ugly Beautiful. :’)

@driftingglass (Before Midnight), forwriting some of the most immersive stories coiled with gripping and buildingtension, both plot wise and relationship wise. Also has one of the mostdescriptive and intense voices. And for writing a Deku with thedetermined/defiant agency he deserves.    

@soulestring/soulstring(Falling, I feel you), for some ofthe most emotionally raw & vulnerable scenes of feelings realization I’veseen. Through all the extensive denial, fear, reluctance, and passion towardslove. Chronic emotional constipation at its crippling worst and most beautifullyrewarding. Oho, I’ve reread these many times for just how strongly they stuckwith me. (Also features Kiri as a valuable mvp, oh thank goodness

@osakakitty (Make Every Moment Last,Like the Moon), mmm,for a finesse with sweeping/honest tenderness with enough resonance to make oneweep. I know many readers who have fallen victim to it. Not from sadness, butfrom just how thoroughly touching and profound her stories are. :’) What ablessing, indeed.  

@kanaevr/Kanae_vR(The Space Between), forwriting with an awareness and careful handling of both the characters and plotthat I could best describe as sincere.The detailed realism and slice of life aspects are both relatable and fun, which contribute towards a whole,well-rounded package that is thoroughly engaging to read.  

Next, aside from the many works available from the authors above, are some fav individual fics that I’mparticularly fond of:

In the Eye of the Storm by @cheshirebutton,THE iconic naga au. If there’s one fic in the fandom I’d consider my fav, I think it’d be this one. Which I’ve read 5+ times, and would definitely reread again. 8D Ilove it that much. Everything is handled with so much impressive quality and care;almost anything introduced has a purpose that will become relevant again later(which is why rereading is so fun). From the impeccable world building to thecharacterizations, the absolute stakes and peril involved that drives them towardsbelievable, life-altering decisions (the weightthey must consider between duty and personal feelings)…from the wedges thatkept them stubbornly apart, towards a curious magnetism and blooming/meaningfulsolidarity that brings them closer together even stronger. :’)) This is classicenemies to reluctant allies to lovers done beautifully, and has me convinced oftheir mutual feelings 1000%. Omg, they feel somuch. ;A; Whenever there’s a ch update I have to immediately dropeverything because it’s just thatgood, ahhh.

Hunting the Past by Justaperson1718, theassassin and blackmailed!bodyguard au! 8D Which happens to be my fav actionfic. It’s so smart and fast-paced, from all the convoluted planning and tensesteps involved to set things right, damn! We have these expertly specializedpros, extremely capable in their respective fields…but who are also fumblingdorks unaccustomed to sorting out their feelings and properly communicating(esp after all the conditioning/exp they’ve been through). It’s so fun to watch them executemissions and then transition to the domestic (yet still very muchliving on edge) down time with them learning to bond while taking care ofKouta. Unexpected surrogate action parents due to dire circumstances, aha!  

The Mummy by Spectra, my favadventure fic. A retelling of the classic movie, but done so well and with style. Probably some of the most genuine fun I’vehad reading fics in this fandom, ahaha what a riot. XD From the crazyshenanigans they get caught up in to the wholesome heh copious amount ofbonding from their time together. Truly, all scenes are extremely well paced andallotted for the type of ‘meat’ readers are in for. Kacchan is so comically (andseriously) overprotective of Deku, omg I love it. (Considering the endlesstypes of human & undead enemies after them, ahh!) Bonus, Kiri is such a goodaccompanying bro, what a delight.

Some Read It For The Articlesby low_commotion,for some of the nerdiest awkward dork bonding, from their shared seriousinterest in hero mags, to their more hands-on practical applications in the gymtogether (ayyy!! ;D)…all while everyone else in the class assumes it’s over‘something else’ and blows it out of proportion (oho~ but things ARE slowlyhappening!) It’s such a hilarious and witty slow burn scenario where they helpeach other improve, but I think what really shines are the faithfulcharacterizations. Deku has such a distinct rambling headspace, and while thepov is limited, the respectable merits inherent to Kacchan’s character stillshine…like ahh, that’s it; that’s why he’s a fav. A very fun and unique ficindeed!  

Just Like The Comics by brichibi,oh man!! The angst and feels truly got me in this ‘what-if’ scenario where Dekunever earned ofa, never went to U.A., and slowly became so jaded/bitter athaving to settle for something other than his dream, his growing envywitnessing Kacchan achieve his burned too much to bear. It’s such a fascinating and segmented Deku characterstudy where he has to discover what he really wants in life, with plenty ofmeta jabs at canon that had me going whoa!!! :O Plus Kacchan is as patient andaccommodating to Deku’s pace as he can be. :’) (Which…became another point ofcontention for Deku, to not hold him back from becoming the best…yet I love the counter, ‘I don’thave everything; I don’t have you.’ fuufjgkgh!!! ;A;)

And now even MORE fics that I like/enjoy, which have caught my attention, orthat I’m currently eagerly waiting for more updates:

warm hands and shipwreck on the red sea byflowercafeAHHHHH!!! Warm hands features my most fav headcanon: heated quirk musclemassages. (Omg it’s so tender/intimate; I’m so weak ;A;) While shipwreck featuresshark mer!Kacchan! 8D I love the realistic attention to detail/descriptions andpenchant for marine biology, ohh it has such an immersive Life of Pi feel. (Pluswelcome room for spice, oho.) Actually, all this author’s works are great withtheir extremely strong starts, definitely keeping watch!

under a hollow sun by umbrage, probablymy personal choice for the classic fantasy au most faithfully adapted (YESSfinally one that matches what I’d been searching for 8’D with a fun supportiveKiri too! *grovels at author’s feet*) Many classmates are incorporated in a fun way too! (Authoralso wrote another fic featuring funny accidental quirk misfire during certain…activitiesand dang, I wish more authors would make use of that too, ahaha! XD)  

springtime of youth by claimedbydaryl,I’m extremely fond of the last chapter, for how realistic and awkwardly naturalthe approach is, definitely left a lasting impression.  

Incandescent Snow by Chicory, acarefully crafted au and scenario that is gorgeous and tentative, with well-madeoc’s who contribute their unique pov’s of the boys’ growing relationship.  

Collision by stardustacademia(cosmiclarents), one of the most thorough and in-depth looks into Kacchan’spsyche and angst I’ve seen, but it’s unfortunately been deleted. :’(( Noting itanyway for remembrance’s sake.

Ambivalent by bakuboi ohdang this was such a unique approach to Kacchan’s pov and source of his anger I’veseen, and impressive writing insight for being anime-only too.

A Haze of Crystal by semiautomatichearts,ooh I really enjoyed the emotional depth in this one; the author has anotherhanahaki story I’m keeping an eye on as well.

how he should’ve known (andhow it turned out) by vannral, theirapproach to the classic fake dating trope caught my attention, but all theirworks are fun and worth checking out too! :D Def keeping an eye on their stuff.

The Devil Blues by iknewamantheir police detective au is so fun and well done; oho those sparks fly! They’vewritten more stuff with unique/interesting approaches I’ve enjoyed too.

Map of Scars by Celestialgunfireopera,ohh :’)) a very touching and vulnerable moment, through particular intimacy andacknowledgment of past actions previously left unsaid. That type of meaningful tendernessand skinship really hits the spot.  

By Design by EtherealBeing(also author of Bluebird), this one is such a unique idea/premise I have not seenbefore! :O Extremely fascinated to see where it’s going.

Izuku’s Home for Wayward Petsby glamour_weeb,wolfdog-hybrid rescue and rehab au, omg it’s so charming and wholesome. :’3  

Shadows and Gold by Sonday, thedesert prince/servant au, whoa!!  

Fireflies for the Moon byBestTankTopist (Keyade), the historical samurai au! Definitely got my eyes onit for more.  

Lunch on Tuesdays by @rironomind,and of course, I have to rec my buddy for her casual, slice of life take ofthese disaster dumbasses that is both fun and surprisingly bold (for tackling that topic in a way no one else has)with authentic Japanese flair (only rom could think of the meaningful gesture ofDeku sitting in seiza, like wow why have I not seen anyone else incorporatesuch behavior before, dang). Thanks so much, rom.

And there we go! Hopefully that’s a big enough handful of fics toappreciate, as I’ve read plenty more where these came from. :’D There are somany talented writers and amazing fics in the fandom worth all the support!  

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Coming Over

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings/The Last Kingdom) Pairing: N/A Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: I got bored and did a thing, I added a little to Coming Undone

Christmas Eve, the most magical night of the year, and here you were curled up alone on the sofa. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer droning on in the background, playing more for company than entertainment.

Traditionally you would spend Christmas with the Lothbroks, this year Ragnar and Aslaug had announced they would be absent during the holidays, leaving their sons to create their own Christmas memories. You and Ubbe had decided to stay home, the two of you enjoying a quiet holiday.

That plan fell through when Ubbe called last night, he was storm stayed in New York, unable to make it home until tomorrow. At least he would be home for part of Christmas Day. For now you were happy on the sofa with your favourite onesie, slippers, and cider to help you through.

Rudolph and his friends had found the island of Misfit Toys, when the abrupt knock landed on the apartment door, followed by the lock clicking. Sitting up from your stupor of boredom, your heart flutters awaiting Ubbe to stride through the door.

Your fluttering heart subsides, disappointment settling when the familiar face of Uhtred pokes around the corner.

"Wow, what would you have done had I been an ax murderer?" He chides.

"You unlocked the door with a key." Your retort seems to leave him content. "What's up Bebbanburg?"

"Heard you were alone, I thought I'd come keep you company." Uhtred shook the light flakes of snow from his jacket, pulling it off. Jacket hung over the back of a chair, he kicked off his boots and joined you on the sofa.

"I am. I thought you had that dinner at your sister's." You glance at him from your peripheral vision.

Dressed in a knit black and white Christmas sweater, you decided to keep the mocking to yourself. He looks defeated, his hair neatly pulled back and his beard trimmed. The poor soul, having to clean up for dinner with his conservative family.

"Ah yes, dinner." Uhtred rolled his eyes. "I went, I ate, I got into an argument with my sister in law, and I left."

"Sounds eventful." You muse picking up the bottle of cider that had been keeping you company. Taking a drink, you hand the bottle across to Uhtred.

"Nothing was burned down and nobody was injured. It was a success for my family." Uhtred smirked, tilting the bottle to his lips. An arm resting behind his head, he sighed and took another drink. "Ragnar's?"

"Of course." You nod.

Nobody made a hard cider as well as Ubbe's father.

"When do you expect Ubbe back?"

"Tomorrow, after lunch sometime."

"So you're alone until then?"

"Yep." You nod.

"If you want some company, I'd be happy to provide service."

"Don't you have Christmas Day with your sister and brother?"

"They are having Christmas Day, I am kicked out, remember." He winks. "Besides, I would feel better knowing that you have someone here."

"Of course you would." You snort and chuckle. "You know I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

A devilish smirk accompanied by a mischievous glint, Uhtred leaned his head over closer to your. "Oh, I've heard."

"You're an ass." You shake your head at his boldness. It was a one time deal and if it were to be repeated, you weren't going for a second performance without Ubbe.

Time was nothing but a mere illusion over Christmas, you had decided. Staying up into the early hours of the morning, creating merriment with those around you. Even if it was only you and Uhtred this year. In a few short hours Ubbe would be back and you would continue on with the plans for a low key Christmas Day - no doubt inviting the wayward Dane to join.

The television programs had changed from classic kid shows to cheesy holiday romcoms, after seeing the latest Hallmark film return to the screen, you decided it was time for bed...alone. In your room, by yourself. No second bodies sharing the other side of the bed. Uhtred had slept on the sofa more than once, he could do it again.

Making this announcement to Uhtred, you pulled yourself away from the sofa. "Do you want an extra blanket?" The decorative Christmas blanket from your mother had taken its seasonal place on the end of the sofa earlier this month.

"I am good." Uhtred stood, the festive sweater and jeans shed. You wished he would have at least asked for some pants, but not Uhtred. He was content to camp in the small living room, in a tshirt and boxers.

"I am sure you are." You resist the urge to say anything more. "Well, you know where everything is if you need it."

"Alright, Milady." Uhtred kisses your cheek, his beard barely tickles, unlike Ubbe's massive face of fur. "Good night. I will see you in the morning."

"Good night, Uhtred." You leave him.

Stretched out on the couch, Uhtred pulled the blanket up around him, his feet stuck out from the bottom. Come morning you would be surprised as hell, waking up to find what Ubbe had planned.

@laketaj24 , @float-autumn-leave , @funmadnessandbadassvikings , @kawennote09, @smutgoblin , @nickysurfer28 , @igetcarriedawaywithyou ,  @akamaiden @angelaiswriting, @neeadinghugs, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @ilvebeenabad , @naaladareia, @tephi101 ,  @imgoldielikehawn , @sparklemichele, @titty-teetee, @therealcalicali, @smolasianwinterbean , @imyourliquor-youremypoison , @ceridwenofwales @ateliefloresdaprimavera , @tiyetiye, @carlya65, @pokeasleepingsmaug, @angelswannawearmyredshooz @awesome-as-i-wanna-be , @lilu46 ,  @dani-si , @hoeghfabulous , @danicalifornia25 , @pebblesz892 , @whenimaunicorn , @lisinfleur, @sconniebelle , @imeannooffensebabybut , @fumblingthroughchaos  , @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone, @lordavanti, @beautifulramblingbrains,  @chynagirl13, @niamandthings , @thepalaceofmelanie ,  @bluearchersstuff, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @wilddrabble, @lol-haha-joke, @ivarlothbroks, @writingfromasgard, @happydaysandersen, @rekdreams-fandom , @pixiedustandfairywings @vikingsandetc, @thevikingsheaux , @hows-my-hair, @alicedopey, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @thisisabigmaze, @grungyblonde @sdcyumyum @unacceptabletatertots, @captstefanbrandt  * I tagged people I tagged in the first one, people seemed curious ;) *

[your-nms-preferences]

Hey! ♡ I hope you're doing well, dearie? ^^ well, I have an ask to... Ask xD could you write something with Touya and my OC Samy? I'll post her description on my tumblr but I can send it by pm as well ;) the plot: both arguing and making up with a walk in a snowy park. Is that okay? :3 love you!

But of course! Sorry if this isn’t really up to your standards, I know it’s a bit rushed. I just feel like all the inspiration been sucked out of me all at once. Still, I hope you enjoy! I had fun writing this ^^

Samy had messed up, badly. Out of the countless thoughts swarming around inside her head, that was the only one she was able to hear clearly. It only became louder every time it repeated, becoming a deafening echo that she was unable to push down or drown out. With the guilt and worry that gnawed at her heart, it only made her headache much worse- and it didn’t show a single sign of getting better anytime soon. 

The event that had unfolded just a few hours earlier played on inside her head, with every moment being painfully clear to her. As if she was just stuck in a loop and she was unable to do anything, letting her body run on autopilot while she was forced to watch it again and again. 

She came up with possibility after possibility of what she could have done to avoid this situation completely. If only she had said something different, if only she had better control over her emotions, if only she had done this, if only she had done that, then maybe she wouldn’t be here in the first place. 

But yet, here she was. Storming off and out of the room, only to continue walking aimlessly until she found herself in Lovely City’s park. She left a trail of footfalls behind her as she continued to trudge in the snow, feeting sinking down into the layer underneath her with every step. Seeing the happy couples around her only made her more envious. A chilled sigh escaped her and she watched it freeze in the air. 

Maybe they could have been one of the couples out there tonight. Happily laughing with each other as they found the purest, and simplest of joy in each other’s company. Instead, they were both arguing with each other, and over some of the pettiest of things. It was ridiculous how one simple comment could cause such a thing to happen. 

Oh, Touya would be absolutely infuriated with her. Wouldn’t he? 

“Samy!” A familiar rang out from behind her, causing her to freeze up completely. He found her, of course he found her, the trail she left was a dead giveaway. He probably followed her as soon as she was out of his sight. Classic, stubborn, lovable Touya. 

He stopped, and she could feel his presence. Along with his heavy pants and his attempts to catch his breath. A few coughs and sputters even left his mouth, making Samy furrow her eyebrows out of concern for her boyfriend. It could have even made her turn around to check on him, but she didn’t want to face him yet. It wasn’t the right time. 

“D-Did you really.. run all the way over here to catch me?” She asked, voice shaking. Partly from the cold and partly out of the sheer nervousness that overcame her suddenly. 

A small chuckle left him. “Of course I did, I can’t just let the love of my life run out without me even trying to catch her.” 

Her breath hitched. “Why are you not angry? I-Isn’t this the part where you yell at me?”

He clicked his tongue, walking up in front of her. Looking inside her eyes with only the most sincere gaze. Once again, she found herself mesmerised by them. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from them. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I really am.” She sputtered after a moment’s silence, with Touya bringing a hand up her her face in response. Gently cradling her cheek inside his hand, heating up the cold skin there. Out of habit, she leaned more into his touch. They’d done this same action dozens of times by now, but it caused her heart to pound in her chest everytime. 

“I’m sorry too, I went out of line with my comments, I admit.” He sighed, stroking her face with his thumb. Snowflakes began to fall around them, gracefully descending to the ground, and building up another sheet of snow. But they only felt the warmth between them. 

“N-No! It’s not your fault!” She retorted, yanking her hand up to clutch onto the one resting on her cheek. Firmly gripping onto his, afraid that he might let go. 

“Come on, it’s both our faults. If we keep on denying it, we’ll be here for hours going back and forth about it.” He dropped his hand to his side, still holding onto hers within. “Instead, we should take a walk to calm down. And then, after that, we can go back to your dorm and cuddle. Deal?” 

Samy pursed her lips, breaking out into a small smile. Before frantically nodding her head up and down, so much that it nearly made her dizzy. He always magically knew what to say to make her feel better, it worked everytime. That was, obviously, a reason as to why she fell for him in the first place. Again, she thought of how lucky she was to have him. 

Squeezing onto each other’s hands, they walked on, together. After that, they had no trouble at all with blending into the other couples strolling in the park that night. 

[lessawildmoon]

Together - Chapter 2

Title: Together

Summary: Emma and Graham escaped Neverland to Emma’s world together as teenagers and despite being separated, they later managed to find each other and build a life together.  So what happens when her biggest secret from their time apart knocks on their door?

Pairings: Gremma and Snowing

Rating: T

Notes: This is a S1 AU that was plotted and planned during 3a. I may incorporate some later canon, but I also may ignore later canon that does not fit. Also, as I usually only post complete fic, here’s your warning that this is WIP.

Beta thanks to @arianakristine

AO3

Chapter 2

Emma woke up alone the next morning. She and Graham had stayed up for a while reading about the curse and her supposed role in breaking it. She still wasn’t quite sure she believed she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and she didn’t even know if the part of her that did wasn’t just wishful thinking that there was a good reason why her parents abandoned her. They had finally called it a night and settled down to sleep, both very firmly on their own side of the bed, silently agreeing to avoid the fight they knew was coming for the moment but still not able to come together. They usually slept as close to each other as they could, by the time they woke up either she would be sprawled over him, or he curled round her, but not this night. It had taken a while for either of them to get to sleep.

She assumed he had gone out to get some air. They had driven through plenty of woods on their way into town so he wouldn’t have a shortage of places to go to help him centre himself. Even after his time here, he still felt most at home in the wild, and she honestly wouldn’t change that, despite how inconvenient it got living in the middle of nowhere. But usually he would leave a note if he was going out, so she knew he was still pissed at her. She reminded herself that he had every right to be and wished for not the first time since last night that she hadn’t kept this a secret. But that ship had sailed and she was just going to have to live with the consequences and hope she could make it up to him.

Once she was ready, she went downstairs to the diner where she let Ruby know that they might be staying a few more days before ordering some breakfast. She knew it was likely to be a while before her husband returned so she took a seat at the counter and started people watching, idly wondering if she could work out people’s supposed fairy tale identities.

She spotted the Sheriff around the same time he saw her and he approached her.

“Miss Hunter. I’m surprised to see you still around. I would have thought you would have been back home by now.”

“It was late last night so we decided to stay the night before leaving. And it’s Mrs. Hunter.”

“You’re married.” He seemed surprised. “Well you might want to leave as quickly as possible, the mayor does not like disruptions.”

Ok, she had no idea who this guy could be but he was giving her seriously skeevy vibes. She was about to tell him that they would leave when they felt like it when the mayor burst in calling for him.

“Sydney! Henry’s run away again. We have to…” When Regina saw her stopped and looked at her in shock for a moment before continuing. “What is she doing here? Do you know where he is?”

“Honey, I haven’t seen him since I dropped him at your house.” The last thing she needed was to get accused of kidnapping the kid.

“Mrs. Hunter was just explaining how she and I assume her husband decided to stay the night given how late it was when they got here.”

“You’re married?” Derision and disbelief virtually dripped from her voice.

“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?” Wanting to get the conversation off her marital status and back on the missing kid, she asked. “When did you last see him?”

“Last night, he wasn’t in his room this morning.”

“Did you try his friends?” Emma knew that if he didn’t show up soon she would be the prime suspect so figured it was in her best interest to help find him. She was starting to wonder how the mayor was having so much trouble keeping track of one ten year old kid.

“He doesn’t really have any. He’s kind of a loner.” The words reminded Emma of her own to her fake date the previous night and her she felt a pang in her heart at the thought of the kid growing up as lonely as she did.

“Every kid has friends. Did you check his computer? If he’s close to someone, he’d be emailing them.”

“And you know this how?” Regina really didn't seem to think much of her ability to help and Emma reminded herself that these people had no idea who she was, they wouldn’t know that this was the one thing she was really good at.

“Finding people is what I do. Here’s an idea. How about you guys let me at his computer and I’ll help you find him.”

The computer had led them to his teacher and Emma couldn’t help but notice the unusual amount of malice that the mayor directed at Miss Blanchard. She supposed it could be due to her role in finding Emma, but it seemed more than that. When it became apparent that the teacher didn't know anything Regina stormed out, knocking a pile of books over on the way.

Emma stayed to help her pick them up. There was something about this woman that she couldn’t quite identify but she felt compelled to stay and try and figure it out.

“Sorry to bother you.” Emma said, feeling bad that Henry had dragged the poor woman into the middle of this. “I’m starting to see where he gets the whole Evil Queen thing from though.”

“It’s okay. I fear this is partially my fault. I was the one who gave him the book. I thought it might help, I wasn't expecting him think it was real. Henry’s such a special boy, so smart and creative, but so lonely. ”

“How’s the book supposed to help?” She was glad to see that the teacher obviously cared about the kid, but she wasn’t sure how a book of fairy tales was supposed to have helped, even if it may not actually be fiction.

“What do you think stories are for?” She asked as they left the classroom to make their way down the hall. “These stories are classics. There’s a reason we all know them. They’re a way for us to deal with our world. A world that doesn’t always make sense. See, Henry hasn’t had the easiest life.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of a hardass.” The more time she spent with Regina the less she was happy with the situation. But she had make her choice and had no real right to interfere now.

“No, it’s more than her. He’s like any adopted child. He wrestles with that most basic question they all inevitably face – why would anyone give me away?” Miss Blanchard seemed truly horrified when she realised what she had said, and to whom “I am so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean in any way to judge you.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not like she didn’t know that feeling, she’d spent her whole life wondering why her parents had left her at the side of the road. And it sucked. But part of the reason she had given him up was so he wouldn’t have to grow up like that, so he could be raised by someone who did want him.

“Look, I gave the book to him because I wanted Henry to have the most important thing anyone can have. Hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”

“You know where he is, don’t you?”

“You might want to check his castle.”

 She followed Miss Blanchard’s directions to a playground near the coast and saw Henry sitting on a castle themed slide looking dejectedly into the distance.

“You left this in my car.” She handed him back the book as she slid in to sit beside him, strangely reluctant to let go of it. If he and Graham are right, then that book was the closest she had come to her parents in, well, ever. She follows his gaze and realises that he is staring at the clock, still stubbornly stuck and 8:15. “Still hasn’t moved, huh?”

“I was hoping that when I brought you back, things would change here. That the final battle would begin. Because it’s your destiny to bring back the happy endings.” The kid’s faith in her was touching, Graham had been the only other person to have that kind of belief in her.

“I wish it was that simple, kid. But if I am this saviour, I doubt it’s going to be quite that easy.”

“Don’t humour me. I may be a kid, but I’m not stupid. I know you don’t believe me!”

“Hey, don’t tell me what I do or don’t believe.” That annoyed her, the kid travelled all the way to Boston on pure faith but didn't think she could believe? “I may not be fully on this whole curse bandwagon yet but you’ve already got my husband on board. My husband who, by the way, I met in Neverland, so you’re doing pretty well so far.”

“Really?” She could see how much even the thought of someone believing him meant to him in the way his face virtually lit up. “You’ve been to Neverland? Will you tell me about it?”

“Maybe someday. It’s not something we like talking about though.” That was putting it lightly. “Come on, we need to get you home.”

“Please don’t take me back there. You don’t know what it’s like with her. My life sucks!”

“I’m starting to get that, kid. But look at it this way, if she is the Evil Queen, then we need to make sure that she doesn’t suspect we are onto her. And that means I need to take you home.” She hated the thought, but she was sure he wasn’t in any immediate danger staying with Regina and at the end of the day, she was legally his mother, Emma couldn’t keep him from her. Luckily her argument seemed to have swayed him.

They were both pretty quiet as she drove him home but after he explained his plan to break the curse she did ask if they could keep the book for a little longer.

“Sure, it’s probably safer if you have it anyway.” He said as he climbed out the car. Regina opened the door before they got there and the kid ran past her and upstairs.

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that made her so hard to read. Sometimes she was convinced that that the kid was right and she was evil, and then sometimes she seemed so genuine.

“No problem.”

“He’s seemed to have taken quite a shine to you.” She couldn’t help but smile at that, despite her efforts he had grown on her as well.

“You know what’s kind of crazy? Yesterday was my birthday and when I blew out the candle on this cake Graham bought me, I actually made a wish. In fact I always make the same wish.  That he’d be ok, and happy. And then, Henry showed up.” She wasn’t sure why she was sharing so much, maybe she just needed to talk to someone about the impact of having Henry suddenly walk back into her life.

“I hope there’s no misunderstanding here.” Emma was startled out of her thoughts by the ice in the mayor’s tone.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t mistake all this as invitation back into his life.” Not from you at least, Henry on the other hand was begging her to stay. “Ms Hunter, you made a decision ten years ago. And in the last decade, while you’ve been… Well, who knows what you’ve been doing. I’ve changed every diaper. Soothed every fever. Endured every tantrum. You may have given birth to him, but he is my son.”

“I was not…”

“No! You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to do anything. You gave up that right when you tossed him away. Do you know what a closed adoption is? It’s what you asked for. You have no legal right to Henry and you’re going to be held to that. So, I suggest you get in your car, and you leave this town. Because if you don’t, I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do. Goodbye, Ms Hunter.”

And she back to being convinced she was evil, cause while she did get where Regina was coming from, that was way over the line. Regina had turned to re-enter the house but there was one more thing Emma had to know.

“Do you love him?”

“Excuse me?” The mayor turned back round and the venom in her voice might have put off a lesser woman but Emma was not so easily intimidated.

“Henry. Do you love him?” She asked again, there was no way she was leaving until she had her answer.

“Of course I love him.” And there they were, the alarm bells that always went off in the back of her head whenever someone lied to her. She’d been truthful up until that point, but that was lie. “Not that it is any of your business.”

“That is where you are wrong Miss Mills. You were right, I did give Henry up. And you know why, because I wasn’t even 18 and I knew that I couldn’t be what was best for him. So I put his best interests first and gave him up so he could be raised by someone who could. But in the 24 hours he has been back in my life he has run away from you twice, so while I might have been putting his best interests first, I’m not so sure you are, and I am not going anywhere until I know Henry is going to be OK.”

“Of course he is going to be OK.”

“Really? Cause that’s one troubled kid, and trust me, I know something about troubled kids.”

“He’s fine, dear. It’s all under control, any problems he has are being taken care of. That’s why I have him in therapy. Take my advice, Ms Hunter. Only one of us knows what’s best for Henry.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re right about that.”

“It’s time for you to go.” Regina said as if she really thought it was that easy.

This woman was crazy if she thought she was going to be able to intimidate her into leaving. She’d cut her teeth facing off against Peter Fucking Pan, it was going to take a lot more than vague threats to get rid of her.

“Or what?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Ms Hunter. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Emma realised that things were only going to get uglier if she stayed any longer so turned to leave. But only this house, she wanted to go see Dr Hopper.

Emma really supposed she should ask for her phone call. But on top of the embarrassment of falling for such an obvious set up she also wasn’t completely confident that Graham would actually answer the phone to her at the moment.

“You know the shrink is lying, right?” She was trying to argue her case the Sheriff without much luck.

“To the right, please. Why would she lie?”

“The Mayor put him up to this. She’s got to have something on him. He’s terrified of her like everyone else in this town.”

“Regina is a dedicated mayor who only wants the best for her people. You should be careful about throwing around baseless accusations.” Sheriff Glass had obviously drunk the Mayor’s kool aid so she gave up trying to convince him. She was about to suck it up, take her chances and demand her phone call when Henry ran into the station followed, to her relief, by her husband.

“Hey!” Henry seemed rather too cheerful at finding her under arrest and she could sense Graham’s amusement from across the room.

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Emma asked him.

“Apparently his mother told him that you had been arrested.” Graham filled in.

“Of course she did.” As she went to try and explain to Henry, Graham pulled the Sheriff aside to sort out her bail. It turned out Henry was fine, he thought she was gathering information for Operation Cobra, which she supposed she kind of had been in a way.

When she was finally out of handcuffs, without a single bad joke from her husband, something she would never admit to missing but did, Sydney insisted that Henry stay with him so he could return him to the mayor. Given how late it was getting they couldn’t really complain, so they started to walk back to the inn.

“So, less than one day in town and you already managed to get on the wrong side of law. I think that’s a record, even for you?”

“Shut up.” The brief return to their usual banter was comforting, even if she knew it was only temporary. “She set me up. She doesn’t know who she is messing with. I don’t care what it takes, that bitch is going down.”

“So, we’re staying then?”

“Hell yes. I am getting my son away from her if it is the last thing I do.”

“Well, let’s try and make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

“Emma look” Graham said as he caught sight of something behind them. She looked up to see that the clock in the clock tower was moving again. “Need any more convincing?”

“No, I’m on board. In fact, she’s the one who convinced me, if she hadn’t been quite so, well evil, we’d probably be on our way back to Boston by now.”

They carefully kept their conversation to the curse and the practicalities of them staying in Storybrooke for while. While she worked on commission so could drop everything on a whim, his job as a forest ranger didn’t give him the same freedom. But she was surprised to find he had already made some calls and managed to get himself temporarily assigned to the area, as they were apparently short staffed. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he had just gone home and left her to deal with this on her own, and instead, without even asking, he was making arrangements to be there for her.

When they got back to the inn it was to find Granny pacing nervously outside their room.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hunter. Oh my, this is terribly awkward. Uh, I need to ask you to leave. I’m afraid we have a ‘no felons’ rule. It… It turns out it’s a city ordinance.” Of course it was and of course she did, so much for the hope of a peaceful night.

“Let me guess – the Mayor’s office just called to remind you.”

“You can gather your things, but I need to have your room key back.

“Actually no, you don’t. I may be out, but he,” she pointed at Graham, “hasn’t got so much as a speeding ticket, so you have no grounds to kick him out. I’ll grab my stuff and go sleep in our car.”

“Oh dear, I really wish I didn't have to, and you are still welcome in the diner. And while you can’t stay the night there is nothing to stop you visiting your husband during the day, if you need to use the facilities or anything.”

“Don’t worry, I understand.” With that, Granny bustled off and Emma went to pack her bag.

“Are you going to be OK?”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve slept worse places. And it’s not like you want to be sharing a bed with me anyway.”

“And whose fault is that?” He spun her round to face him, the anger clear on his face. “I’m not the one who has been lying for the last 6 years.”

“I know! I know this is all my fault, and I’m sorry. I screwed up big time and I don’t know how to fix it.” It was taking everything in her not to cry. She was so scared that nothing could fix it. Neither of them trusted easily and she knew that there may not be any coming back from this one. She wasn’t sure if she would’ve been able to forgive him if their positions were reversed so she didn’t know if she could expect him to, and she knew she certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I know you’re sorry and I wish that could be enough. But it isn’t, not yet. It’s going to take some time.” Sadness and weariness started to take over from the anger in his eyes, though not chasing it away completely.

“Yeah.” She finished gathering her stuff and rushed out of the room. As much as she wanted to stay, she knew better than to push him when he said he needed time, it would only make things worse. But he had left her with hope that they could fix this, and she clung to that as tightly as she could, because she didn’t know what she would do without him.

She grabbed the blanket out of the back of his car before curling up on the back seat under it and crying herself to sleep.

[selsorenda]

For day 2, I’ve written a book review. This is first I’ve ever written, and turned out a bit more like a report for high school than a review, but I think it’s a good stepping stone to my next review being better.

Rating: 2.5/5 stars

Time Spent Reading: 3 hours

Length: 277 pages

This book can be found on Goodreads here.

This review does contain spoilers

“Welcome to the Bismarck-Chisholm House — where murder is only the beginning of the fun!”

“It was just supposed to be a vacation; a quick trip to go up and sell the manor her mother had inherited. Instead, the family is still living there, and it’s beginning to look like they may never leave. Trapped on Solitude Mountain with nobody but her mother and two sets of twin siblings, Seda grows more worried with each passing day. There’s something dark lurking within the manor… or within her.

“I don’t ever worry about ghosts. After all, I have Sawyer, and he is worse.”

Sawyer is Seda’s twin that she absorbed in the womb. He is almost always with her, whispering thoughts into her head. Some simple demeaning comments, other dangerous suggestions such as when he urged her to burn her hand as a kid. Nobody knows that he’s with her, at least not anymore. As a young kid, everybody thought Sawyer was just her imaginary friend. Therefore, Seda led her family to believe she’d simply grown out of him, instead of the daunting truth.

It is clear that her relationship of hearing Sawyer is some sort of mental illness, however it is never fully discussed within the book. There’s the struggle of Seda dealing with him, and the eventual point where she tells another character about still hearing him, but that’s really it. While this book is meant to be a classic YA thriller/horror, not psychological horror, it’s always frustrating to see mental illnesses used as a minor and brushed over way to push the plot along. At the very least, a full conversation between Seda and who she reveals the secret to would have been nice to see.

“Legend has it that everyone who visits succumbs to the disorienting effect of Solitude Mountain. Can you survive the night?”

Every chapter starts with part of a brochure or website article about the murder mystery that used to be hosted at the manor by Seda’s aunt and uncle. Not only are they often fun little quips, but they tend to tie into what happens in the chapter, which is a nice touch. The above quote is from the beginning of chapter 2, in which readers get the first glimpse of most of the characters.

Seda is on a grocery run 20 miles away from the manor when a group of teenagers comes into the shop, bright and full of energy. Seda, having been away from other people her age for quite a while at this point, finds herself intrigued by the group, and quite frankly she watches them like a bit of a creep. But that’s okay, because she’ll never see them again, right?

Wrong. On their way to a Halloween party at Funnel Mountain and deciding to take the scenic route, the group of teenagers gets caught in the storm. Heath, the “heartthrob” of the group, is the one that ends up inside the manor, thinking it’s uninhabited. When Seda first gets frightened by him showing up in her kitchen, she briefly thinks it’s her brother Sawyer. Of course, she then remembers that he’s only in her head and so this guy is an intruder. Instead of doing the logical thing and getting him out of her house, Seda has a conversation with Heath that leads to him asking if him and his friends can stay there.

“I want to help. He’s the most life I’ve seen in forever, beautiful, shining, vibrant life.”

Struck with a crush-at-first-sight, Seda decides to let Heath and his friends stay in the carriage house that’s slightly down the mountain. Her hope is that it’s far enough to keep them safe from Sawyer. Which it is, until she brings them hotdogs and a couple medical supplies later that night. It’s then that she finds herself growing fond of the group, and reminded of how all her friends are back in Boston, and she’s stuck here. Sawyer starts to creep in on her, and she promptly exits back to the manor, hoping the group will be gone the next morning.

As her luck would have it though, they weren’t. Even worse, her mother finds her talking to Heath while getting firewood. Before Seda can have any say, the group is being ushered into the manor by her mother like it's some big sleepover that’ll be the greatest party of their lives. Speaking of parties, it’s only a couple days to Seda’s 16th birthday, which causes her mother to have the grand idea to throw a big scavenger hunt for her and their guests. Surprisingly, the group of teenagers decides to go along with it, mainly to console the young sets of twins that are upset at the realization they missed Halloween. After all, what else are they going to do while stranded by the snow?

As Seda’s mother is setting up the grand party with all the left behind props from the murder mystery, Seda grows closer to Heath, the love interest of the story. Like with many YA novels, the romance feels a bit unnatural and rushed, and doesn’t add much to the story other than giving Seda someone to be by her side during the scavenger hunt. It is Heath that she reveals her secret about Sawyer to, and instead of seeming to be concerned, he just kind of shrugs it off.

“...but if I spent time trying to figure out all the mysteries of this place, I’d go insane.”

It isn’t until a couple chapters into the scavenger hunt (over halfway through the book) that the horror plot the blurb promised starts to take form. On a team together, Seda and Heath start to find blood and clues that don’t seem quite as fake as the others. Before they know it, they’re starting to find the dead bodies of Heath’s friends, and it seems like they’re next on the chopping block. Desperate to try and escape with their lives, the two come across an abandoned room… with evidence that Sawyer was alive, and he’s dangerous.

While trying to escape from Sawyer, Seda reveals another secret to Heath; she believes that her twin killed their dad. Up until this point, readers had been led to believe that her father had left because of her mother refusing to sell the house to the first buyer. Now, it is told that Seda found her father's body in the kitchen and fearing that Sawyer had caused her to do it, she’d hid his body in the walk-in freezer and drove his car into the nearby lake, as well as throwing his belongings into it. Again this is a strong indication of Seda being mentally ill, but again it is quickly brushed over when Sawyer shows up in the kitchen and starts to fight her and Heath.

In the struggle, Seda believes she traps Sawyer in the walk-in, until he is in front of her, about to burn her to death. Except, he can’t get the match to light. It is during that time that Seda gets away, running into a room filled with her family, and all of Heath’s friends. None of them dead, all alive and well. It had all been a grand set-up, thought up by her mother. Sawyer isn’t actually alive, and Heath and his friends aren’t teenagers, but seniors in college studying acting. (Which makes the fact that Heath kissed Seda quite unsettling, by the way.)

Endings like this are always so disappointing. I have always hated the “it was all a dream/fake” endings, as they feel like a huge cop-out. This book had potential, and frankly the fake story of Sawyer actually being alive would have been much more satisfying. Or, it even could have been Seda’s father. There were much better options for how the story could be wrapped up, and I’m honestly disappointed that the author chose to end it this way. The only redemption for the ending is when Seda is processing that her relationship with Heath was all a lie, and that he is who she had trapped in the freezer. Upon the realization Seda is ‘talking’ to Sawyer, and together they decide to leave Heath there, which ends the book off on the semi-eerie note that Seda is going down a dark path.

“After all, he knew something bad would happen. And he’s always right.”

Overall, I did enjoy this book. It was a quick read, and the references to slasher movies and classic gore (such as fake intestines) were fun. The descriptions and detail and easily the strongest part, and are what kept me reading. All the characters were written well, even if they didn’t get the development they deserved; I found myself especially fond of the young twins. However, since the book doesn’t live up to its promise of horror/thriller until well into the book, and the ending falls flat, this doesn’t come close to being as good as it could have been. If you’re looking for a horror/thriller book, this isn’t for you. But if you just want a fairly light YA book with a hint of gore and thrill, you’ll likely have fun reading this — it could definitely be great for teens looking to dip their toes into horror without diving all the way in. If your library has this book and you have a free afternoon, I’d recommend giving it a look!

[i-am-perryshmirtzed]

Thoughts on Milo

I’m still freaking out over the B plot of the Christmas special, but I just want to talk about the Murphy family for a minute. One of the things that caught my attention was the dialogue between Nate and the grandparents, when Nate once more denied his having Murphy’s Law. It’s hard to quote what they actually said, but one thing that stuck out was that I heard “It’s a good thing!” 

And I’m just...all of the Murphy’s are so optimistic and happy with how they live. It’s not just a ‘make the best of it’ situation, it’s a way of life that they love. I was thinking that Martin was optimistic but took the job of safety inspector because that would put the condition to good use, but at this point I’m thinking that he actually likes the job in addition to the convenience. The optimism is so contagious, too. The aunt and uncle we downright thrilled when their boat started sinking. The aunt probably had spend upwards of twenty years with a Murphy as a husband, and she’s firmly adopted the mindset. However, I don’t believe Milo’s nearly as naturally optimistic. He’s the only Murphy we’ve seen to be actively prepared for everything, with his backpack. In “Worked Day”, he pulled out the inflatable snowman, in “Smooth Operator” he decided the best way to prevent ruining the play was to stay backstage the whole time, he’s the one to improvise a way to steer the boat in “Time Out”, he runs to fix decorations and check the fuse box in “School Dance”. He immediately jumps into action when the boat started sinking in yesterday’s episode. The Murphy’s seem to have great faith in everything working out just fine, and it usually does, but Milo seems to feel like it won’t, and that’s so interesting with the context of the Christmas special. Shelter from a storm is such a classic winter story, and that moment when they all jump off the sleigh and into the snow to try to head to the mall, when Milo turns around to his family and friends with a big smile on his face, proclaiming that everything would be fine, and then turns and starts to walk off and mutters “I hope.” under his breath breaks my heart. I don’t think he’s nearly as optimistic about life when he’s alone- he seems to put on a brave face while others are struggling, playing the optimistic leader.

[duncanwrites]

Books I read in 2017, reviewed in 2 sentences or less.

Among other things, in 2017 I tried to read more books by authors from different eras other than our own. I also ended up putting down more books half-read than usual. I’m sure those two things say something about our year in anxiety.

But here’s what I finished and what I thought:

Birds of America - Lorrie Moore: This book contains some of the very finest short stories I've ever read. Every word, sentence and paragraph seems perfectly put together to draw out the real humanity of flawed people in a flawed world.

Wolf in White Van - John Darinelle: Among other qualities, I think Wolf in White Van has the best title of any book on this list: in the context of the novel itself it provides a perfect framing device that allows you to see the poetry of a dark twisted staircase of a story.

The Sympathizer - Viet Thanh Nguyen: If I talked to you about The Sympathizer this year, it probably came out as an excited rant about any number of things - its dark humor, brilliant structure, mind-bending narration - but I promise you that beneath the exuberance there's a genuinely stunning novel sort of unlike anything I've otherwise read.

The Shock Doctrine - Naomi Klein: I re-read this book to get ready for Trump, and it did help, but it also reminded me about how angry I still am about the war in Iraq and so many other things. Still my favorite book by one of the best political writers out there doing the work.

Hegemony How-To - Jonathan Matthew Smucker: Another pre-Trump read, I think Smuker's book is one of the most useful -- as in practically, real-life make your work better -- books on politics in a long time. My only complaints is that I didn’t have a chance to read it years earlier so I could have avoided a lot of the things Smucker describes so well.

Three Body Problem, The Dark Forest and Death's End - Liu Cixin: The first two novels of this trilogy I thought were some of the finest science fiction I've ever read: both grounded in real human suffering, sweepingly large in their approach to theory, and bringing out some exciting ideas. The third book dragged itself down with the darkness that already ran through the start of the series, but that shouldn't at all stop you from taking these on.

Snow Crash - Neal Stephenson: Another re-read, this is a classic science fiction novel that contains the kinds of themes and concepts that you begin to see everywhere around you once you finish it. Noticed a few more plot holes this time around.

The Diamond Age - Neal Stephenson: Set in the same world as Snow Crash, The Diamond Age never reaches the same wild intensity of the previous book, and is plotted more in the model of a shaggy dog story than a sci-fi thriller.

The Structure of Scientific Revolutions - Thomas Kuhn: A classic text, the Structure of Scientific Revolutions is the source of a lot of conventional wisdom that was revolutionary in the 70s when it was published. Maybe a bit more tedious that it needs to be.

Flight Behavior - Barbara Kingsolver: I think Barbara Kingsolver is a terrific novelist, and although this book moves quite slow through its paces (and is a bit stressful if you spend your days already thinking about climate change), the payoff towards the end is real. She does a lot, with a lot of heart.

The Mother of All Questions - Rebecca Solnit: Humane, withering, lyrical: Rebecca Solnit is one of the writers I most admire, and this is a really wonderful compilation of some of her best work on feminism, hope and politics.

In Dubious Battle - John Steinbeck: I love John Steinbeck as much as the next left-leaning American, but only up to a point. This is a rough book about Men doing Men Things, full of people named Mac and Doc who do a lot of fighting and dying and it's just not his finest work.

Native Speaker - Chang-rae Lee: I re-read this book for the first time in about 10 years, and found myself coming across passages that had still somehow stuck with me through all that time. I could recommend Native Speaker as one of the best novels about New York City, relationships and language all at once, and its the kind of thing that will bear re-reading again in the future.

Trauma Stewardship - Laura van Dernoot Lipsky: I dunno, this one just didn't work for me. It felt over-broad, attributing so many behaviors and outcomes to trauma to render the concept almost meaningless.

Moby-Dick - Herman Melville: An epic that earns its place in the canon, I gushed wide-eyed about Moby-Dick at strangers for several weeks/months. Chapters on chapters about whaling history, seeming diversions, pile in between portraits of personal and collective madness: so much of this book is not about the White Whale and yet all of it is at the same time.

Direct Action - L. A. Kauffman: Direct Action is deftly written, insightful in its analyses and one of the best practical histories of contemporary organizing I've read. Hugely recommend for anyone trying to get a handle on What to Do Now.

What is Populism? - Jan Werner-Muller: I put this book next to The Shock Doctrine, Hegemony How To and Direct Action as one of the crucial books to read about Trump and the moment we're in. A book that covers the things that really need saying about Populism, but with the good sense to be brief, approachable and clear.

Bad Feminist - Roxane Gay: I am late coming to this book of essays, but I was thoroughly won over from the very start, because Gay has this way with short, direct but vulnerable language that makes her polemical points land with so much more intensity. I can't quite put my finger on it, but her manner of writing is so special, and she uses it to say such necessary things.

Istanbul - Orhan Pamuk: Let's just say this book is an acquired taste: you need some ready familiarity with Istanbul and a lot of patience for detailed personal stories and obscure asides in service of a memoir with a small focus. I quite like Istanbul and admire the literary goals of the book but didn't quite have the patience needed to really enjoy this throughout.

Dune - Frank Herbert: Apparently some people still haven’t read this book? They really should.

The Thing Around Your Neck - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: A book of short stories that are all elegant windows into the lives of people who are coping with distance, displacement and dread. They cover a lot of the thematic territory she addresses in other books, but with little experiments in style and structure that usually work.

Fear City - Kim Phillips-Fine: I've been waiting for years for someone to write the history of the New York City Financial Crisis that we all need, and I just don't think this book is it. It ended up being a sort of surface level history of a handfull elites involved in the crisis that never dove into the depths I hoped for.

Isaac's Storm - Erik Larson: I didn't always care for Larson's potboiler narrative style but I think the 1900 Galveston Hurricane is interesting and important and I'm glad someone wrote a book that lots of people could read about it.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running - Hakuri Murakami: Since I read this (all at once, on a beach), I've been drifting back to certain points of it that just seem to stick with me. It's only in part a book about running, but also about writing, and I quite like both of those things.

Quicksilver - Neal Stephenson: Apparently there are 8 more books in this series. I'm not going to read them.

A Little Life - Hanya Yanagihara: I can't remember the last time I was quite this obsessed with a book, to the point of being driven to read into inappropriate hours of the morning and setting aside other obligations to make time for it. I also can't remember a book so devastating and frustrating to read, that puts its characters and readers through so much trauma and then describe in claustrophobic detail how it curtails their experiences of joy and success. There's nothing like it, and you need to experience it to understand.

The Fifth Season - NK Jemisin: I didn't love this book as much as everyone else I know who has read it. The story is clearly brilliant conceptually, but something about the melodrama in the writing style just kept getting in the way for me.

Radio Free Vermont - Bill McKibben: A Monkeywrench Gang for the modern age, but with less weird macho nonsense, and a better sense of humor.

Waiting - Ha Jin: What I most admired about this book was the ascetic, unadorned language that the author uses to follow a simple but elementally powerful plot line. You do end up waiting a lot as a reader, but there's much to observe as you do.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou: You don't need me to tell you that Maya Angelou knows how to write exceptional sentences. Instead, you should read some of them and learn the real power of a well-placed metaphor, or how you honor the half-formed, overpowering complexity of a child's feelings.

The Interpreter of Maladies - Jhumpa Lahiri: I've lost track of how many times I've read these short stories, but they destroy me pretty much every time.

Rules for Revolutionaries - Becky Bond and Zack Exley: There's some useful stuff in here.

The Lowland - Jhumpa Lahiri: This was the first novel of Jhumpa Lahiri's that I had ever read, and I just don't feel like she was able to stretch her voice -- which is so concise, spare and evocative -- to meet the scale of this novel.

The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald: One of the greatest books of all time, a perfect picture of the spiritual depravity of money and consumption.

Frankenstein - Mary Shelley: It turns out this book is very little like the pop culture Frankenstein myth -- there is only a glancing mention of dead bodies, the monster is articulate and an almost wholly private terror. Instead it's a nested doll of stories about nature, knowledge and spiritual purpose. Consider Phlebas - Iain M. Banks: A perfectly fine pulpy space opera. I’ll probably read more of the Culture books at some point.