euonymusalatus
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Summary
"When's the last time we cleaned behind the fridge?" Helen asked, pulling it away from the wall with a scraping sound that made Carol's teeth itch.
"Define 'we.'"
"Fine. When's the last time anyone cleaned behind this fridge?"
"I'm going to say the Bush administration. And I'm not specifying which one."
OR
A historic blizzard buries Albuquerque under thick snow and knocks out the power, leaving Carol and Helen stranded at home without internet, television, or any of the distractions Carol relies on to avoid feeling things. What starts with deep cleaning and Scrabble arguments escalates into a game of truth or dare in front of their fireplace.
Bookmarked by euonymusalatus
11 Feb 2026
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“I didn’t keep most of the memories. Other people’s memories. I get flashes of big things, births, deaths. Except about you.”
Carol feels the confusion slip onto her face. Nervousness creeps up her spine again. “Me?”
“I know everything that anybody has ever thought about you, Carol. Every memory. Every feeling. Helen. Your ex-girlfriends. Your dentist. It’s like I have a Carol encyclopedia in my head.”
Carol had thought that she was done experiencing fresh horrors. What a nightmare it is to realize that she is not. “Oh, god.” She says.
“Oh, god,” Zosia agrees.
After they manage to break Zosia free of the hive, Zosia and Carol try to navigate the field of landmines that is their relationship.
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Bookmarked by euonymusalatus
10 Feb 2026
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Albuquerque stretches wide around her, burnt and alien and empty. It feels quiet and full of ghosts. The Others were creepy and corporate, annoying; not to mention Zosia with her tour guide enthusiasm and that big-mouth smile that… well anyway, Carol’s alone now and fuck it, whatever. Who hasn’t fantasised about living alone with wolves before?
Series
- Part 1 of why did you dig me up for this
Bookmarked by euonymusalatus
05 Feb 2026
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“Your call,” Helen offers, rubbing Carol’s thigh as she watches her teeth catch her lower lip. Her thumb presses more firmly for a second, grounding her before resuming its slow circle.
It’s only then that Carol tears her eyes away, returning her attention to Helen as she considers her options. It’s been a while since they’ve invited someone else into their bed, and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t want to feel this woman’s hands joining Helen’s on her body.
“I mean, I think I kinda have to fuck the female Raban,” Carol says after a minute, a slight laugh to her voice.
Beside her, Helen grins, wide and delighted, “I think you do.”
Bookmarked by euonymusalatus
04 Feb 2026
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“I’m one of the lit managers,” the woman explains.
“Yet you can’t manage to take a hint," Carol retorts. "I’m not in the mood for conversation.”
It’s meant to be rude — to get this beautiful, annoying woman to leave her alone once and for all — but instead, the corner of her mouth curves into a smirk. Carol hates how sexy she finds it. “Clever wordplay,” she commends. “You really are a writer.”
Or: After sending dozens of query letters with no success, Carol reluctantly goes to a literary speed-dating event to try to find representation. There, she meets Helen.
Series
- Part 1 of pre-canon sturstead snapshots
Bookmarked by euonymusalatus
29 Jan 2026