16 Works by bonesdyke
Listing Works
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You know what he's doing.
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It's not quite the Great American Road Trip. Marty's just along for the ride.
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They take their respective meds, and they make dinners, and they fuck like old men, because they are. Nights, they sit out on the back porch they built together and they listen to crickets sing in the creeping darkness as the sun goes down. It’s not like they have anything better to do, not really; neither of them like to travel too far and neither of them want to move to fuckin’ Florida or something so they live a quiet, contained little life and Marty continually feels a little surprised how happy it makes him.
Or: Rust and Marty and life after almost-death.
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The first fight: 1996, more or less a lifetime ago, Laurie slotting her fingers through the wire of the caged dog’s crate and being surprised when he snaps at them. Rust polite and detached up to that point, unreadable until the moment he showed the whites of his eyes and snarled.
The last fight: 2002, a week or so after Rust gets called in to work the box for another county and comes out shaken and shaking, rattled down to his core by whatever the man told him. Pulling back, getting cold and detached again. Laurie putting her hand inside the dog’s mouth just to feel the weight of his teeth one last time.
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“So how are you and Laurie?” Marty asks, just to have something to say.
Rust is quiet for a long minute, pulling half his cigarette down his lungs in that nervous way he hasn’t done so often, like maybe he really had learned a new appreciation for the sanctity of human life, and Marty thinks maybe he’s touched on something fragile. Maybe he and Laurie are fracturing after all, his psycho-intellectual bullshit finally worn her down. The rolling paper crackles softly in the silence between them as the cherry bites lower and lower towards the filter.
“I’m fixing to ask her to marry me,” Rust finally says, and Marty chokes on his beer like he’s had the wind knocked out of him.
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Or: Rust and Laurie in vignette.
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Albert takes the long way around.
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House meets Wilson at a fencing tournament.
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your best kept secret and your biggest mistake by bonesdyke
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
06 Jun 2022
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“All right up here, Slayer?” His lips are glistening with her. It feels obscene.
“Fine,” she says tightly.
Spike grins. “What, Corn-fed never did that for you?”
“Shut up,” Buffy huffs. “Just keep doing it.”
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When they’re close like this, Wilson realizes just how well he knows House’s body, even from before they were together; it’s like the way he knows the drive to the hospital by heart, or the way he could wander the halls of the oncology ward with his eyes closed and never hit a wall.
House is sort of a map of his own, familiar under Wilson’s fingers, a history told through scars and lines. He’s memorized them, knows the oldest from the new, knows their stories and their paths.
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It's hard to ignore your feelings when they've quite literally taken root within you.
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House tends to dance around his words, avoiding saying just what he means. Luckily, Wilson can translate.
Or, five times when House didn't say what he meant, and one time he did.
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House and Wilson are going to talk about their feelings one way or another, and if House's ducklings have to orchestrate that themselves, well...
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It’s terribly selfish, Nastya knows, what she’s planning to do. Everyone will be so upset.
But she’s upset, too, so she has the right to be selfish. Just once.
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ashes has a nightmare; as a result, they make a new friend.
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(ooh) i'll cut my hair
(ooh) to make you stare
(ooh) i'll hide my chest
and i'll figure out a way to get us out of here
// this is home, cavetownAfter the Buried, Daisy needs a haircut. Basira is there to help.
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lay me gently in the cold dark earth by bonesdyke
Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
01 Sep 2019
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my babe would never fret none
about what my hands and my body done
if the lord don't forgive me
i'll still have my baby and my babe would have me
when i was kissing on my baby
and she put her love down soft and sweet
in the low lamp light i was free
heaven and hell were words to me
//work song, hozierAnthony Crowley has a near-death experience, and now he can't stop thinking about what comes next. Luckily, he has someone there to comfort him as he works through the aftermath and sorts out his own feelings about religion, death, and the afterlife.