#but more of a donner party kind of situation since they have wood

[brutal-nemesis]

For the prompt thing: making dinner together <3

Ayooo it’s fucking. Death and gore and cannibalism time. Because Of Course It Is

“Come on. It’s what he wanted us to do.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“You don’t have to watch. Just give me the glass.” He handed her the shard of broken glass they’d been using as a knife, turning away from his friend’s corpse as he did. He covered his ears against the soft sounds of glass slicing through skin, the slight saw against muscle fibers. 

She handed him a piece of...meat. It was bloody and greasy, little bits of gristle clinging to it. He really didn’t want to know where exactly it came from, but even then he wasn’t sure if he could eat it.

“Could we...cook it or something? I...I don’t think I can do it. Not like this.” She looked worriedly at the small pile of snow-soaked wood they had scrounged from the surrounding woods.

“I…” she sighed. “Alright.”

The fire was pathetic, but it was enough to roast their dinner on. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine they were roasting hotdogs together at summer camp. 

He hoped this wasn’t their last meal.

Cannibalism tag: @hearse-song

#ask game #legallylibra #cannibalism #nemi's brutality challenge #i wrote something #gore #death #i took the meat descriptions from my copy of miracle in the andes #so it is in fact. sourced from a real cannibalism event #but more of a donner party kind of situation since they have wood

[refinedbuffoonery]

This one screams MacRiley to me: “There’s a storm and omg I’m losing signal are you okay?? Hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before christmas” 

I got a little carried away with this one lmao.

Mac doesn’t expect his phone to light up with Riley’s name at 11 pm on Christmas Eve. What is she calling him for? She’s supposed to be spending Christmas at a cabin near Lake Tahoe with her mom. 

Frowning, he accepts the FaceTime call. As soon as her face fills the screen, he asks, “Are you okay?” 

A flash of emotion crosses her face, but it vanishes before Mac can figure out what it means. “Yeah, we’re fine. Although, I can’t say the same for the radiator.” She tilts her phone, bringing an ancient radiator into view. “It quit working, and I can’t figure out how to fix it.” 

Mac exhales a sigh of relief. She’s okay. Once the panic recedes, he smiles and offers, “I’ll walk you through it.” 

“Thanks.” Mac barely catches Riley’s sheepish smile before she flips the camera around. 

“Merry Christmas, Mac.” Riley’s mom’s voice echoes in the background. “Who are you celebrating with this year?” 

“Mom,” Riley groans, “I already told you. He and Bozer drove home to spend Christmas with Bozer’s parents.” 

“Oh hush, baby girl,” her mom chastises. “Let the man speak for himself. Is Bozer making his pastrami again this year?” 

Mac chuckles. “Well, it wouldn’t be Christmas without Bozer’s pastrami.” 

“That’s good to hear. Now hurry up and fix the radiator. It’s cold in here!” 

“Yes ma’am,” Mac says. Addressing Riley, he asks, “So, what are we working with?” 

Fixing the radiator is easy enough. Riley sits on the floor, holding the phone between her feet so she has both hands free. Mac leans back against the headboard, content to watch Riley’s manicured fingers work. “The dark green looks nice,” he says, absentmindedly. 

“What?” 

Crap, he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Your nails,” he rushes to clarify. 

“Oh.” A moment later. “Thanks.” 

Oh god, why did he have to make it awkward? Talking to Riley is never awkward. Now he’s being weird. Why is this so weird? Mac shakes his head, disrupting the spiraling chain of thoughts. 

“How’s Tahoe?” he asks, determined to break the now-awkward silence. 

“Good!” The mood shifts instantly at Riley’s bright tone. “It’s so gorgeous here, Mac. If Matty doesn’t have us off on some real-life version of Die Hard, we should come back at New Year’s.” 

Mac snorts. “With all the tourists there for SnowGlobe? No thanks.” 

“Mac,” she scolds. “Don’t be mean to tourists.” 

“Says the woman who grew up in LA. You hate tourists even more than I do!” 

Her silence only confirms that he’s correct. 

“So,” Mac continues, “your mom said that it’s cold there. Is it snowing?” 

Finished fixing the radiator, Riley flips the camera so it points at her face again. She isn’t wearing any makeup, Mac notices right away. She looks pretty without it. “Yeah,” she says. “There’s going to be a big storm tonight. Donner Pass is supposed to get a couple feet of snow overnight.” 

That’s a lot, Mac thinks. He tells her as much. Riley and her mom are staying near there, in some off the grid area between Sugar Bowl and Donner Lake. She’d sent him the details before she had left, in case of an emergency. 

“Anyway,” Riley says. “I’ll let you get back to the party. Thanks for your help.” 

As much as Mac loves Bozer’s family, he wouldn’t mind talking to Riley all night. He doesn’t know how to tell her that without it being weird, so he just says, “Of course. Anytime, Riles.” 

She hangs up, and Mac realizes he’d trade Bozer’s toasty house for a too-cold cabin in the middle of nowhere in a heartbeat. 

*****

Mac definitely doesn’t expect it when Riley calls him again at 2 am. It’s just a normal call this time, not a FaceTime request. 

The line goes dead as soon as he picks up. 

He tries again. Nothing. 

Again. It goes straight to voicemail. Before he can hang up and try again, his phone rings. Riley’s calling. 

He picks up immediately. 

“Mac—” she starts. 

The line goes dead, again. Shit. 

Mac races to the living room. He turns the TV on to the local news, quickly lowering the volume so he doesn’t wake anyone up. A blonde news anchor stands in front of a map of Lake Tahoe, and Mac reads the headline scrolling across the screen. 

STORM KNOCKS OUT POWER THROUGHOUT TAHOE AREA, OVERNIGHT TEMPS EXPECTED TO DROP WELL BELOW FREEZING. 

Riley. She needs help. Why else would she call in the middle of the night? 

Mac scrambles to find his boots and a coat. Bozer shuffles into view, rubbing his eyes and looking less than thrilled at being awake at this hour. 

“Mac, what are you doing? It’s 2 am dude.” 

“Riley called. I’m going to go get her.” 

“In the middle of the night?” Bozer frowns. “Is she okay?” 

Mac pats his pockets, looking for his keys. “I don’t know. She called a bunch of times but the line kept going dead before she could say anything. They’re getting snow tonight and the power went out. I just need to make sure she’s alright.” 

Bozer clears his throat, and Mac looks up to see his best friend dangling his car keys in front of his face. He mutters his thanks. 

“Tahoe’s more than three hours away man,” Bozer says. “Are you sure she didn’t just butt dial you or something?” 

They both know Riley Davis never butt dials people. Ever. 

Mac sighs. “I’ll just drive myself crazy sitting here and not knowing, so I might as well go.” 

Bozer gives him a knowing look. “Okay. There’s chains in the garage, and you can borrow my dad’s ski jacket.” 

“I have chains in the truck, but I will take the jacket.” Mac starts filling water bottles and collecting snacks while Bozer fetches the coat. Keeping his hands busy doesn’t do much to staunch the worst-case scenarios running through his head. What if she—

No. He couldn’t think like that. 

Bozer returns with the heavy coat and accompanies Mac to his truck. “Be safe, okay?” 

Mac squeezes his best friend’s shoulder. “I’ll be safe.” He jumps in the truck and flies backward out the driveway. 

I’m coming, Riles. 

*****

It’s almost 6 am when Mac pulls up in front of the cabin. An unfamiliar car is parked in front, buried to its bumper in fresh snow. It must be Riley’s mom’s. 

Mac trudges through the snow, suddenly wishing he’d traded his Christmas pajama pants in for snow pants. He kicks away the snow piled in front of the cabin door that’s preventing it from opening all the way. “Riles!” he calls. Mac raps his knuckles against the old wood. “Riley!” He knocks again. 

He’s about to call her name a third time when he hears a faint, “Mac?” 

There’s a scrambling noise on the other side of the door, but then it swings open and Riley’s standing in the doorway, nose pink despite being bundled up like she’s planning on spending the night outside. Considering how cold it must be in the cabin, she might as well be. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks. 

“You called.” 

Bewilderment contorts Riley’s face. “I—” she trails off. “You drove all the way out here just because my call didn’t go through?” 

Now Mac feels awkward. And kind of stupid. “Uhh, yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. 

There it is again, that emotion he can’t place. “Wow,” she says, and not in a sarcastic way. She shakes her head, stepping aside to let him in. “God, come in. You’re probably cold.” 

Mac follows her inside, muttering, “Like it’s any warmer in here.” 

Never letting Riley out of his peripheral vision, Mac scans the small cabin. It’s cute, with well-loved furniture and lake themed decorations. The blazing fire casts an orange glow over the room. Mac’s eyes land on Riley’s mom, curled on the couch underneath a mountain of blankets with a fluffy, white dog butt covering her lap. The dog’s head rests beside the free end of the blankets—presumably where Riley had been sleeping. 

“When did your mom get a Husky?” he asks in a low voice. 

Riley shoots him a “get a load of this” look. “She didn’t. That’s what I called you about. I brought in a new load of firewood around one, and I heard her barking. There’s a pond maybe twenty yards that way—” Riley points— “and she’d fallen in.” 

Riley rubs her hands together. Without thinking, Mac gently grabs her icy hands and holds them between his warm ones. Both their gazes suddenly snap to their joined hands, but neither comments. 

Riley continued her story. “We got her out okay, but I was afraid she’d end up with hypothermia. I called you because I didn’t know what to do.” 

Oh. “So what did you do?” 

“We managed to dry her with a hair dryer and let her drink warm water before the power went out, but since then we’ve just piled on the couch.” Riley shivers. “I think she’s okay now.” 

“Are you okay?” Riley’s tough, but she’s not immune from scary situations. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It’s false bravado, but Mac doesn’t call her on it. 

Instead, he jerks his chin toward the couch. “Is there room for one more?” 

Riley visibly relaxes. “I don’t know,” she drawls, “the dog’s quite a bed hog.” Mac laughs. 

There’s definitely not room for four on the couch, but they make it work. Riley moves a few cushions onto the floor to give them more space. Mac waits for her to squeeze between the dog and the back of the couch before taking the remaining space between the dog and the edge. He doesn’t fit. 

He hisses, “Can you move over any more? My butt’s hanging off the edge.” The dog lifts her head and licks his face in a mocking “no.” 

Riley scoots back, but there’s barely a difference. “Sorry. That’s all you get.” 

Mac sighs. “Well, then the dog’s getting squished.” He reaches across the mass of white fluff to wrap an arm around Riley’s back and pull himself further onto the couch, pinning the dog between their stomachs in the process. 

He doesn’t need to keep holding her—hell, he probably shouldn’t keep holding her—but Mac doesn’t let go. Instead, he keeps watch over his girls as they fall asleep, first the dog, then Riley. And when their soft breathing is the only sound in the eerie stillness of a snowy morning, Mac lets himself drift off as well.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #holiday promptathon