#bones culinary crimes

[stealingyourbones]

Hey if you're still in your food crimes era id like to suggest something I want to try, but alas my college dorm is not equipped with an oven.

Gatorade bread.

Or really any beverage since bread is essentially just flour yeast and liquid. I'd be interested to see what you can come up with considering the various horrific alcohols and the way you predicted Stardew 1.6 in the worst way possible

Woke up, opened my phone, and saw this after a horrible nights sleep… ya know I think the day is gonna be a good one.

My personal favorite bread recipe to use is the No Knead Bread by The NY Times. It takes a day or so but the bread it makes is basically pseudo sourdough. It’s delicious and I’ve made countless bread bowls from it.

You know what? Fuck it. The time is worth it.

The real question is what type of Gatorade do I use?

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware isekai'd househusbands, what a great idea that was. The Vil piece was so fun that I wasn't more!

Can you write Riddle as an isekai'd househusband? Thank you!

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, blood, murder, death, violence, stalking, unhealthy relationship, obsession

Your totally normal isekaid househusband

Imagine, you are the male equivalent of a magical girl in villain version who got isekaid into the normal world

One would think that world domination or something to that would follow, right?

Well no.... said magical girl is right now starting holes into a cookbook

And he kinda likes it- no, he loves to study the culinary arts

Not just for anyone of course

Riddle has become a little helping hand in your home after you found him one day drenched to the bone outside of your little safe haven

But at this point the two of you might be married with you being the breadwinner

In the morning he wakes you up, makes you breakfast, hands you your lunch when you are heading out, cleans the house, spends his time doing... things, greets you when you return gives you food and does more things that would stereotypically be considered as stay-at-home-partner activities

How calm... how sweet... how-Riddle, what are you doing?

Riddle wakes up one hour before you usually do. So what does he do in that hour?

So, half an hour before you wake up he prepares breakfast but the thirty minutes before...

Well he is just standing there, staring at your sleeping figure

Ok. Creepy but at least the time from breakfast till him being done with chores is normal

So uh... remember those “things” I mentioned earlier? Well...

There are those noisy neighbors everyone has, right?

So uh... please don't mention them annoying you in any way. Please don't. Just don't. Oh why? Hehe... don't think too much about what I just said, yes?

When you return Riddle emerges from the kitchen, asking you if everything is alright

Following to that he scolds you for staying out too late

That crazy maniac is running freely out there! All those poor souls lost to them

Your neighborhood might have a... uh... “spontaneous death through decapitation” problem

The crime scenes are clean or rather they are until you enter the room in which “that” happened and you find a surprisingly clean you-know-what sitting there in a chair with their you-know-what laying in their lap, a white rose tucked somewhere in that meat pile as well

Of course Riddle knows that his actions aren't good in any way but when you good him that the old creepy neighbor next door had been scaring you for so long he saw red and...

Let's just say that magic makes it incredibly easy to leave a crime scene without any trace

Ah yes, roses! Let's talk about something easier on the stomach!

Riddle plants of course roses. White ones

Sometimes you even get a few of them, them now being red

You once asked why the roses are red considering that he always plants white ones which he answered with him painting them red just for you

Ah yes, you totally forgot that little thing about his dorm. And isn't it cute? Such a pretty red as well... although the paint is a bit fragile and falls off in flakes if you aren't careful

His pastries are a bit dangerous to eat, he adds sometimes odd things because someone wrote a tip in a baking forum as a joke, but his lunches are pretty good

When you try to help him though he is strictly against it. Especially when it's about doing the laundry

Meh. Probably nothing. Although... you have found splatters of that red paint once or twice on a piece of clothing of his before... probably go it on there the last time he painted the roses red

Though, you do wonder... where is that cleaver that had been missing from the kitchen?

[butterbabyflapjack]

CROWN OF PIERCING BONE

Hannibal Lecter x fem!reader x Will Graham (18+)

You’re an FBI trainee with a spiraling empathy disorder, tasked with helping track a horrific serial killer who bow-hunts women dressed only in antler crowns. But Will Graham, the brooding professor who’s reluctantly agreed to mentor you, may actually be the very killer you and the FBI are looking for.

Meanwhile, you inexplicably don’t trust your psychiatrist, Dr. Lecter. He might be seducing and manipulating you, or maybe he just wants to pâté your liver.

Wherein....

• Will’s afraid to open up, but even more afraid of letting you go. That might not be a good thing.

• You maybe take a fire axe to Hannibal’s harpsichord in an uncontrolled fit of rage. And, no, he’s not exactly ~pleased~ about it.

• You thought you were sane, but now you’re part of Will and Hannibal’s murder family??

• Maybe taking psychedelics around Hannibal isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had. He's likely to take advantage.

• You might be dating a dissociative serial murderer? Fun~!

[ TAGS & WARNINGS ] dark!Will Graham, Will Graham fluff, M/M/F threesome, crime, psychological thriller, hallucinations, slow burn, canon typical violence, volatile feelings, angst, mental illness, unconventional love triangle, manipulation, gaslighting, porn with plot, porn with feelings, explicit sexual content, cannibalism, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, Hannibal playing god, deception, mystery, trauma, issues with guilt, culinary exploits of a sexual and murderous nature, hurt and comfort, lots of hurt and comfort, canon typical dark content, serial murder, investigation, therapy with Dr. Lecter, ethical dilemmas, neurodivergent characters, neurodivergent reader, conflicted reader, kidnapping, attempted kidnapping, criminal psychology, possible major character death, dreamscapes, erotomania, soft sex, rough sex, shower sex, hate sex, shoved against a bookshelf sex, trying desperately to be quiet so you don't get in trouble sex, mild knife play, fishing with Will, Hannibal adores dressing you up, dinner parties, aftercare, elements of revenge, horror, descriptions of violent and phantasmagorically grotesque crime scenes, sitophilia, encephalitis, threats of violence, consensual psychedelic drug use, covering up crime scenes, sleepwalking, memory loss, conflictions with reality, season 1 AU, domestic fluff, flirting, I might have daddy issues?, secret relationships, jealousy, darkfic with tooth-rotting fluff, Will Graham is a teddy bear (supposedly), if you thought things weren’t going to get fucked up I’m happy to disappoint you

──────────────────────────

[ TAGLIST ] @y-o-u-n-g-g-o-d-s @vegasbud @angelmenace @mrsgrahamsdesign @jedinerd27 (full disclosure vegas, the slutty scene I spoiled doesn't happen for a while)

read on ao3 🤍

chapter one : STORMCLOUD EYES

chapter two : MIASMA

[rubyarrows]

Serendipitous Shenanigans

YN leaned against the bar at the Founding Fathers, the familiar chatter and clinking of glasses providing the backdrop to her evening. She scanned the crowded room, her gaze finally settling on her best friend, Lance Sweets, who was engaged in animated conversation with Special Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Temperance Brennan.

She smirked, taking a sip of her drink. YN had met Sweets during her freshman year at college, and their friendship had blossomed over shared classes, late-night study sessions, and a mutual love for sarcasm. She had never met two people more perfect for each other than Sweets and the crime-solving duo.

As the night wore on, YN found herself being pulled into the orbit of their conversation. Sweets spotted her and grinned, waving her over.

"YN!" he called. "You have to hear this story. Booth and Brennan were just telling me about the time they got stuck in that old cabin during a snowstorm."

Booth chuckled, his eyes lighting up. "Oh yeah, that was quite the adventure. We were chasing down a suspect when the blizzard hit, and we ended up trapped there for a couple of days."

Brennan nodded, her expression somewhere between exasperation and fondness. "It was... an interesting experience. We had to rely on our survival skills and, surprisingly, Booth's not-so-terrible cooking."

YN couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of the brilliant Dr. Brennan enduring Booth's culinary experiments. "I can only imagine. You two have a way of finding yourselves in the most peculiar situations."

Sweets chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. "That's an understatement. But honestly, I think those situations are what make them such a great team."

Booth draped an arm around Brennan's shoulders, a soft smile on his face. "He's right, Bones. Our partnership works because we complement each other's strengths and weaknesses."

YN raised an eyebrow, her playful grin returning. "And how does that dynamic work with Sweets here? The three of you seem like quite the trio."

Sweets feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Hey now, I provide the essential psychological insights."

Brennan nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "He's right. Sweets helps us understand the motivations and behaviors of the people we encounter. Plus, he's an excellent sounding board."

Booth leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "And he's the one who suggested that we share the cabin story with you. Apparently, he thought it would make for some good entertainment."

YN laughed, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "Well, I can't argue with that. It's been an entertaining evening, to say the least."

As the night continued, YN found herself surrounded by the warmth of friendship. Sweets, Booth, and Brennan were an odd but wonderful trio, each bringing their unique strengths to the table. The bonds they shared were strong, built on years of shared experiences and mutual trust.

"I'm way too sober for this," YN mused to herself, her heart full as she toasted to the serendipitous shenanigans that had brought them all together.

[whywhisperinginvain]

yoo i love ur art style so much, it looks so soft! and your characters look very interesting,,, im looking at your fic with peepaw sans :o,,,

Also fellow romanian spotted !!! 👉👈 (can i ask? If peepaw is romanian granpa tm, does know how to do sarmale the right way and always closes the windows that his grandson opens? chuckles/lh)

Hope you have a nice day there! ☀️🌻💚

Aaaa thank you so much!! I'm so happy you like my work! I just followed your art blog and your art is so cool and the linework is so crisp and good!! :0 I saw your art on my feed before hehe!

:D

That would be a crime for him to not know so! I'd say Peepaw makes răcitură too, but he tries not to always make it since the amount of garlic is so unholy that all the vampires from a 100m radius are instantly killed. And the locals complain. And his grandson probably wears a gas mask while Peepaw does that culinary monstrosity.

And yes, always. I'd say they argue daily since Kyril thinks it is too hot in the cottage while Peepaw warns him that 'o să-l tragă curentul' :3 What can I say... Kyril has 'warmer marrow' and that's why he can't feel the pesky cold Peepaw does in his old bones.

You too! :3 Mulțumesc mult pt întrebări și follow <3

[vexic929]

ooooh I just saw your Eoland Wrapped now can you do Tiff and Bernadette Wrapped? (separately or together your choice)

absolutely!

Tiffany Drake-Wayne your wrapped is here!

You solved 73 cases!

You beefed it and ate pavement a whopping 62 times! 12 of those times were in front of other people!

You distracted your girlfriend 23 times!

You stopped the world from ending 3 times. That’s 3 more than last year!

You saved 231 innocent bystanders!

You stopped 42 crimes!

Your top month was APRIL with 16 of the 73 cases solved!

Your top activity was SIMPING OVER BERNADETTE. You stared at her like an idiot 310 times!

You broke up 3 gang wars! That’s 2 more than last year!

You broke 18 bones! 12 of them on the same day!

Bernadette Dowd-Fitzmartin your wrapped is here!

You hired 430 people. That's 400 more than last year!

You prevented 16 lab fires!

You drew up plans for 32 new inventions! You built 6 of them!

You contemplated quitting and going to culinary school 7 times. All 7 on the same day!

You introduced your girlfriend to your parents 1 time! They still want you to date a man!

You fixed the Red Robin suit 50 times! You wish your girlfriend would be more careful!

Your top month was OCTOBER with 6 of the 6 inventions completed!

Your top activity was DATING TIFF. You went out with her 47 times!

You bought 1 new apartment! That’s 1 more than last year!

You helped Superwoman 22 times! You still get flustered around her!

[mwolf0epsilon]

Culinary Crimes

Sponge, wildly uncomfortable because Kix is forcing them to attend therapy with their batchmates: This is honestly the worst thing you've ever done to me, and I resent you for it.

Kix: Don't be dramatic. This will be good for all of you!

Sponge, rolling their eyes: Obviously you've never met my batchers...

Kix: I think Geoduck is nice.

Sponge: Ok fine, Gooey is salvageable. It's Conch and Crayfish that worry me...

Geoduck, walking in practically dragging Conch by the ear while Pearl guides him along: Sorry we're.... -stares at them for a moment, looks to Pearl, then smiles back up at them- Sorry we're late. SOMEONE, decided to drag his feet the whole way...

Conch, huffing snootily: Because this is so karking pointless. I'd rather die than waste my time talking to that little freak and his gang of losers.

Geoduck, smacking Conch on the back of the head: Play nice.

Sponge: Starting strong with the misgendering and the name calling...

Kix: Oooookay... Maybe we should start with pleasantries. Anyone want anything to drink? Caf? Tea? Juice? Water?

Crayfish, holding up a bag he's carrying: You got a counter I can use? I haven't eaten yet and barely managed to grab some stuff I can wip up into a sandwich.

Geoduck, Sponge & Conch, all looking suddenly terrified and shaking their heads no pleadingly at Kix:

Kix, confused: Uuuh... Sure?

Crayfish: Cool. Thanks bro! -shuffles over to one of the counters-

Sponge, staring at Kix with genuine fear in their eyes: Kix what have you done?!

Kix: Uh?

Crayfish, taking out a loaf of bread, a jar of pickles, a can of anchovies, a live starfish, a packet of ham, one Kraft single, marshmallows, and combining it all into a mayonnaise smothered sandwich: Bone apple teeth or however it's pronounced... -takes a massive bite out of his culinary abomination-

Conch, getting splattered by the resulting mayo and pickle juice spray: ...... -faints-

Sponge, gagging loudly and trying not to be violently ill: GOOD GOD, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!!

Geoduck, despairing: I can't kriffing take you anywhere Cray. Holy karking sith-spit!

Kix, genuinely horrified by this experience:

[tame-a-messenger]

okay so shayne was actually on the first episode of culinary crimes. they have the whole reveal of the orange juice.

i'm guessing whenever we get damien on there he is going to be paired with arasha because I have been noticing that they tend to put these two in a lot of videos together. maybe want to try a new duo/dynamic for people to latch on? I feel like in maybe 100% of videos with damien in 80% arasha was also a part of it.

which is also a bone I have to pick a little bit. I feel like in games specifically, they are focusing a lot on the dynamics of certain groups, like angela, shayne, amanda, chance, courtney are one that people really enjoy so I think they push this group more. which ends up feeling a lit bit like they just stuck the ones that are not part of that group together when the "main" one isn't available? it might not be the intention but it ends up feeling this way, at least for me.

I love this "main" group, don't get me wrong. their improve game it's amazing but I also miss the variety that we used to get way more. I feel like any time one of them is in a video, angela for example, I already know who will be there with her without having to see it.

it feels kinda divided for me. two groups that don't overlap that much anymore and are kept separate.

anyway I don't know just felt like ranting a little bit

I totally messed up saying Shayne should be on lmao, I was meant to fact check if he was on already and I didn't.. My bad! (HOW COULD I FORGET THE ORANGE JUICE!?)

I do kind of agree with you about the "focusing on duos" thing. They have been casting Angela + Chanse + Amanda (all three or at least two at a time) in most videos one of them is in the others are sure to ALSO be there. Which I love their dynamics! but like you said, it feels like everyone else gets a little sidelined in favor of certain "duos/dynamics" which feels odd sometimes.

"I also miss the variety that we used to get way more. I feel like any time one of them is in a video, angela for example, I already know who will be there with her without having to see it."

Exactly. I want more variety OVERALL with everything Smosh is doing, with who's cast to what videos they do!

(although I'm wondering if maybe everyone is just such pals with everyone else that we are a little blinded?)(but hey, maybe I just miss Keith and Olivia in the bunch and have a longing for them)(orrrrrr I could be going feral over wanting the OG Games crew to meet the new cast.....I SO BADLY want Amanda and Angela to meet Joven...oh what I'd give to witness THAT)

In conclusion, I miss Damangela because I need their DRAMA. They bicker like no one else at Smosh and I've been missing it.. (EVERYONE IS TOO NICE TO EACHOTHER! ARGUE! COMPETE! I MISS IT!)

[maniuscript2]

Explore the Treasure Trove of Hindi Series Online.

Introduction:-

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Variety of programs

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To start with

Among the Hindi series online on Epic On, Rakkt stands out for its fantastic storytelling. The series follows the dark corridors of Ancient India's history, uncovering the blood-soaked paths to power traversed by its rulers and usurpers. The series unravels the chilling narratives of treachery, deceit, and betrayal that stained the reigns of kings, written in red ink. It chronicles the most notorious true stories of historical assassinations that redirected the course of modern India. Bringing to light the bone-chilling tales from the ruins of actual locations, "Rakkt" offers a gripping examination of the heinous crimes committed in pursuing the throne, painting a vivid picture of a tumultuous past.

Another remarkable Hindi series online is Khattey Meethey Guppey, a captivating show that dives into the rich and diverse palette of Indian cuisine, tracing its origins back to the royal kitchens of India. The program explores how a mix of foreign influences, local herbs, and the innovative spirit of royal chefs has shaped India's culinary traditions. It reveals the stories behind the luxurious and elaborate dishes prepared in the palaces, highlighting how these meals reflect a blend of extravagance, creativity, and, sometimes, necessity. Through engaging narratives, "Khattey Meethey Guppey" uncovers the secrets of ancient culinary practices, the use of rare ingredients, and the fascinating evolution of Indian food. The show not only celebrates the flavors that make Indian cuisine unique but also pays homage to the royal figures who have been the custodians of this rich culinary heritage, making it a must-watch for food enthusiasts and history buffs alike.

Expansion beyond TV shows

Beyond TV shows, Epic On's Hindi series online also extends to web series, such as Safarnama, a unique travel show that embarks on a soulful journey across India, from Mumbai to Ladakh, with host Ankit Siwach. Unlike typical travelogues, Safarnama seeks to uncover India's more profound beauty and unseen moments through an adventurous and thrilling route. The show is about experiencing life more profoundly, exploring the diverse cultures, landscapes, and stories of the Indian subcontinent beyond the conventional tourist paths.

Jugaad Mania celebrates the innovative spirit of the Indian populace, showcasing how individuals create extraordinary solutions to everyday challenges. The show highlights the ingenuity of ordinary people who, faced with limited resources and various obstacles, invent or innovate out-of-the-box solutions that address their needs and improve their lives. 

ConclusionEpic On is a treasure trove of Hindi series online that showcases the multifaceted beauty of Indian culture. Whether you're drawn to stories of courage, tales of love, culinary competitions, or thrilling dramas, this platform has something for everyone. Epic On offers inspiring stories that await the discovery of exclusive content.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Chile con carne and sparkling champagne" - Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Jazz club Vertigo is something neither Foggy nor Matt can afford. After winning a case, their client gifts them dinner at the high-end restaurant. That evening a beloved singer asks "let there be love" and Matt has to oblige.

Song: "Let there be love" - Sammy Davis Jr.

Author's note: Matt Murdock lives rent-free in my grapefruit. He gives me strong film noir vibes and you can't have film noir without some jazz. This is pretty long...

Truthfully, Matt and Foggy should have gotten used to the affectionate nature of Javier Nunez, their latest client, considering each of their meetings both began and ended in a bone-crushing hug. After winning the trial, it was impossible to get out of the choking hold of the Hispanic businessman. He kept thanking them over and over again, which quickly turned from heartwarming to slightly uncomfortable. Javier made it clear several times that the outcome of the trial would decide the future of his family: should he lose the business, the Nunez family would quickly end up on the streets with no real perspective of improvement of their livelihood.

Maybe that was why Javier Nunez insisted on giving Foggy and Matt something beyond the payment they had agreed on previously (he went as far as offering to marry one of his children off to them or Karen - an offer that, surprisingly, was turned down). The lawyers, however, insisted just as hard on not accepting the gift, trying to convince their client that there was no need for that and they were just doing their job. Javier Nunez, however, was a quite stubborn man, which was perhaps the reason why he managed to accumulate impressive wealth and keep his business profitable for over thirty years. That's how the three friends found themselves with tickets for an evening at Vertigo - a prestigious jazz club that opened back when Hell's Kitchen was famous for theatre and pride culture.

Vertigo was well known among rich businessmen, accountants, lawyers and the likes. It was a den for white collars. Should Foggy and Matt had stayed at Landman and Zach, they would have been able to afford the jazz club each time they got off work on Fridays. Their desire to promote ethics caused Vertigo to become a rather "maybe one day we'll make it" deal. Although their firm was doing rather poorly in terms of business at the moment, Mr.Nunez's grateful heart gifted them a glimpse into the luxury way out of their league.

The inside of the club was quite dark, the brightest lights pointed at the stage in the back of the room, where a band was playing an upbeat jazz melody. Each round table had a plaque with a number and up to four people sitting around it. The bartender seemed engaged in the conversation he had with the clients, something unimaginable in any other bar in Hell's Kitchen. Vertigo was possibly the only remnant of the district's former glory: New Yorkers exchanged theatre for crime and repurposed factory buildings. The club smelled mostly of Gurkha cigars and made-to-order perfumes sold only via the grapevine.

A well-dressed, oddly stiff waiter sat the three of them at a table close to the stage and informed them what will be served that night. Vertigo was one of those places where the clientele had to trust the chef and his culinary fantasy but that was, perhaps, the adventurous charm of the place: one never knew what would be served on that particular day.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Vertigo welcomes you on this fine evening," a man in a suit spoke to the public. The band behind him was changing sheets with music and exchanging occasional whispers. The audience listened in silence that was filled both with excitement and forced, extraordinary etiquette. Foggy, Matt and Karen shifted uncomfortably in their seats, suddenly realizing how out of place they were. They felt as if other guests stared down at them, perfectly knowing that a 'lower class' infiltrated their sweet, sweet haven. It was hard to discern whether that feeling was rational. "I have the pleasure to tell you, that Vertigo's most beloved will grace this stage tonight."

The man's announcement was met with lively applause as if that cryptic message meant anything to the public. The three friends sat at table 37 clapped along, not nearly knowing what exactly they were applauding and whether 'Vertigo's most beloved' was worthy of applause in the slightest.

"Ladies and gentlemen, she doesn't need any introduction, therefore I shall not waste any more of this lovely evening. Singing for you tonight is (Y/N), The Terpsichore of jazz."

Shortly after the man left the stage, his hurried steps drowned out by another round of applause, the red curtain in the back of the stage was pulled aside and a figure emerged from the darkness of the backstage.

She was wearing a maroon, silky evening gown stolen as if from the 30s. The attire sparkled wonderfully in the bright stage light that didn't even make her squint. She must be used to it. Her lips were crimson, a shade probably only a connoisseur of vintage wine could name. By the looks of it, (Y/N) might have been friends with Gatsby himself. Although it was a faint scent, Matt could easily smell the a la mode perfume on her skin. The fragrance was rose, wonderfully spicy and sweet, somehow fitting her image just right.

The waiters had just finished serving the appetizers when 'Vertigo's most beloved' began to sing. Her voice was ethereal, one that would make Terpsichore herself green with envy. Balancing somewhere between velvety and raspy, (Y/N) put to shame the inventor of autotune. It was a sound widely unfamiliar to Matt, he couldn't think of anything comparable or similarly enticing. Her voice truly came from a different world, one that a man could touch only in the feverish of his dreams.

Let there be you, let there be me

From the very first verse, Matt forgot about God's green Earth. Vertigo was no longer a highbrow jazz club but an empty hall in which there was only him and her. With only those eight words he knew that 'Vertigo's most beloved' was barely a euphemism describing her wonder. Her voice as if wasn't heard by his oversensitive ears but his very mind or heart, penetrating his consciousness in a way not too far from black magic.

Let there be oysters under the sea Let there be wind, an occasional rain Chili con carne and sparkling champagne

Karen and Foggy indulged in the small but definitely overpriced dished brought to their table. Matt couldn't force himself to think about food, not only because he genuinely disliked expensive delicacies. The frogs' legs and coffin bay king oysters the waiter had brought them smelled delicious as if luxury could have a scent beyond suffocating perfume and cigar smoke that stained the wallpaper in the club. Still, Matt didn't even want to try the food. No, any distraction from the singer would be more than unwelcome.

The jazz club, aside from the band and the singer, was completely silent. Guests, sitting around the small, round tables, stared at the woman in red with a glint in their eyes that could remind one of the epiphany an artist has upon discovering their muse. Even the bartender and his clients sat completely still, eyes fixed on the woman on stage, taking in each lovely note that left her lips.

Let there be birds that sing in the trees Someone to bless me whenever I sneeze Let there be cuckoos, a lark and a dove

Matt already knew he will hate birdsong the moment he leaves Vertigo. No matter how enticing a nightingale's song would be, it still couldn't hold a candle to (Y/N). Having heard her sing, birds will only be an incompetent imitation to his ears. Maybe that's why you sang in the evenings - so that birds, put to shame by your voice, wouldn't abandon their morning hymns. At night, when most of them were asleep, you could secretly lure human hearts, giving them a taste of something out of their reach. Matt remembered the story of the Little Mermaid and how she gave away her voice for a pair of legs. In the back of his mind, he wondered what your voice could buy and he quickly realized he was unable to conjure an idea of the wealth of equal worth.

But first of all, please, Let there be love

And how could he ever refuse? When she asked in such a melodic voice, scratching as if part of him he never knew existed, there was no request of hers he could deny. The musical score wasn't just a song anymore, no, it sounded too sincere in her mouth to be somebody else's words as if her own confession sneaked between the verses from days long past. He sat there, at table 37, basking in the glory of a woman he didn't know, completely enthralled by her voice - something he always found important in people he chose to be around. Matt wondered whether (Y/N) spoke in the same voice she sang, making each conversation an inimitable artistic improvisation. Those two verses she ended the song with danced around Matt's mind, echoing loud enough to drown out any other thoughts. If (Y/N) asks 'let there be love', it would be insane to do anything else. Maybe she wasn't personally asking him but he was more than ready to fulfill her plea.

The song ended and Matt no longer questioned the deafening applause of Vertigo's clientele, even more - he decided it wasn't appreciative enough. He could only guess that the guests of the jazz club were impressed at least as much as he was. Only when the song ended, and the band with the singer bowed to the audience, did conversations erupt once again. From what Matt could hear, and that was quite a lot, everyone was gushing about (Y/N) and the magic she brought with her. The ovations lasted for a considerably long time until the singer herself didn't leave the stage.

It's been maybe a few minutes of Foggy and Karen excitedly talking about Vertigo in detail when somebody disrupted the three friends.

"Excuse me, are you the lawyers that helped Mr.Nunez?"

The three of them lifted their gazes only to see her - 'the Terpsichore of jazz'. She smiled politely at the strangers, eyes hiding a glint of curiosity and excitement. Matt took a deep breath to smell the light, rose perfume she wore. He was right about her voice - it was exactly the same as when she sang, creating musical scores with the most organic of intonations and sounds. To him, it sounded like she never stopped singing.

"Yes, Nelson and Murdock," Foggy stood up to shake her hand. "Have a seat with us."

"Thank you." The way she said it only made Matt more sure that he would be willing to do many things just to hear her say it again. "Mr.Nunez called me a few days ago specifically to ask about my performances. He said he wanted to invite the lawyers that won his case to dinner but only on a night I sing." She giggled as she told the story. From then on, their conversation ended only when the hour was late enough to be considered 'early' by some.

Maybe when (Y/N) sang 'let there be love' she wasn't actually asking but making a declaration, casting a spell in magic so old no one remembered its power. Just so it happened, Matt Murdock was the perfect victim.

[renecdote]

22. Books with uhh the firemen (Eddie? Buck? I think)

The books pile up.

Buck reads Jim Abbott’s autobiography while he’s still in hospital, recovering from the second surgery. It’s interesting. Inspiring, even. It makes him feel like his dreams are still in reach, even with four broken bones and half a dozen pieces of metal in his leg. They just… aren’t in reach just yet.

With nothing else to do, Buck keeps reading. He reads a book about Jack the Ripper, then one about the Golden State Killer. YouTube is a warren of true crime videos and he loses himself down the rabbit hole. He gets in the habit of messaging Eddie at all hours of the night with comments and theories and Eddie gets in the habit of telling to go the fuck to sleep, seriously Buck, it’s three a.m., aren’t you supposed to be resting?

One night Eddie’s response is more to the tune of some of us have work in the morning and even though Buck knows he isn’t trying to be mean, the words sting. He resolves not to text Eddie in the middle of the night anymore. And it’s a resolve that lasts for five days—until Eddie messages him just before two one morning and asks if he’s awake.

“Bad call,” he says when Buck calls. His tone makes it clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Tell me about what you’re reading?”

So Buck talks and Eddie doesn’t really ask questions, but he listens, making comments every now and then so that Buck knows he’s still there. The time on Buck’s phone says it’s been well over an hour when he realises Eddie’s comments have stopped, that his breathing is deep and even, asleep with the line still open. Buck waits another ten minutes, just to be sure, before he hangs up.

When he wakes up in the morning, he finds a single text from Eddie: thank you.

**

When his doctor clears him to start training for his LAFD recertification test, the stack of books stagnates because there isn’t as much time to read. Buck fixes his sleep schedule (mostly) and on nights when his thoughts get too loud and sleep won’t come, he goes running instead of picking up a book. On days when the jolts of pain shooting through his leg are too much for that, he goes swimming instead. The gym at the end of his block has a pool open twenty-four hours and Buck swims laps until his chest is burning and his muscles are trembling; until his brain is quiet and he’s exhausted enough to sleep without dreaming.

“You look tired,” Eddie says when he stops by after one of those nights. “Are you still not sleeping?”

Buck is lying on the couch with a heating pad on his leg, a pillow squashed behind his head, and reruns of The Great British Bakeoff playing on TV. He’s half watching, half dozing, half scrolling through wikipedia. He just wanted to know what coulis was and now he’s deep in the history of food preserving.

“I sleep fine,” he tells Eddie, and it’s only sort of a lie. Most nights he does.

Eddie makes himself comfortable at the other end of the couch, lifting Buck’s legs and putting them back down in his lap. His hand rests on Buck’s uninjured ankle, not caressing but sort of holding, touch achingly gentle.

“You should try audiobooks,” he says. “Or maybe podcasts. Chris has been downloading them on my phone, some of them are pretty interesting.”

“Sure,” Buck agrees sleepily. His leg doesn’t hurt so much anymore and he kind of wants to go for a run, hit his training goal for the day, but he’s warm and comfortable and it’s nice to just be here with Eddie. To just exist, without having to worry about what comes next.

On the TV, the judges are criticising a woman’s citrus cake.

“Did she put flowers in it?” Eddie asks, tone laced with disgust.

There is a long history of edible flowers, for both medicinal and culinary purposes. Buck can’t remember where he learnt about that. It might have been the Food Network, or maybe something Bobby told him. He loves learning things, he always has. And he loves sharing the things he has learnt, teaching someone something they didn’t know, making them smile with a fun fact.

When Buck tells Eddie that people in Victorian England candied Violets to decorate cakes, he watches the scrunch of his nose in bewilderment, the amused disbelief, the relaxed, almost fond, expression on his face as Buck talks. And for a moment, it feels like nothing else matters.

**

After the tsunami, the pile of books grows taller again. Buck reads Wave, then Hiroshima, then Krakatoa, then The Perfect Storm. He’s exhausted during the day and wide awake at night, reading everything he can find about natural disasters until his eyes burn and his head throbs. He still runs some evenings, but he doesn’t swim.

Maddie worries about him and Eddie worries about Christopher and Buck tries to pretend there is nothing to worry about at all. Looking after Christopher during the day helps. He buys children’s books and colouring books, pencils and paints and Lego sets, child-friendly video games and DVDs. He masters cooking pancakes, then mac and cheese, then finds a cookbook Bobby gave him for Christmas two years ago and tries something healthy.

“Buck,” Christopher says one morning. “Do you know what a supernova is?”

It leads them down a rabbit hole about space. They find YouTube videos and podcast episodes and a few Nat Geo kids articles that aren’t too densely scientific.

Buck texts Eddie: Did you know only one person in human history has been hit by a meteorite?

Also the moon is moving further away every year isn’t that sad :(

The 118 must be between calls because it doesn’t take long for Eddie to reply. He always listens to Buck’s rambling, is always happy to know more, and it isn’t long before they’re on a FaceTime call, Christopher sitting in Buck’s lap so they both fit into the camera view, Buck smiling down at him while Chris recounts everything they’ve learnt for his dad. He glances up, catching Eddie’s eye, and sees the same fond look reflected on his face. It makes Buck’s heart throb, makes his breath catch in his chest, makes him think I want this all the time. I want them all the time.

**

Buck has been back at work almost a month when a bad storm hits LA. Thunder and lightning, torrential rain, gale force winds, power lines down throughout the city. It blows through in a couple of hours but leaves weeks worth of cleanup in its wake. Most of the calls come in after the storm has passed, keeping them out late into the night. Buck is still buzzing with energy when they return to the station and he lies awake in the bunks reading about California hurricanes. They rarely hit directly and only seven tropical cyclones since 1850 have caused gale-force winds in the Southwest region of the United States, but that’s twice as many as tsunamis. The frequency and severity of storms in California has been increasing in recent years, too, which is the opposite of reassuring.

“Hey,” Buck says the next morning, when the whole team is gathered around the table for breakfast. “Did you guys know that men are five times more likely to be hit by lightning than women? One guy from Virginia has been hit seven times.”

“Why do you know that?” Chimney asks, bewildered. “Are you expecting us all to get hit by lightning one day?”

“The odds of that happening are about one in a million,” Bobby reassures them.

Hen snorts. “Maybe slightly higher for all of you.”

The conversation moves on, but Buck can’t stop thinking about it. Statistically, the odds of surviving a natural disaster are higher than the odds of being caught in one in the first place, but they’re not absolute. Maddie tells him it’s not healthy, obsessing over what might happen, tying himself into knots about things that he’ll probably never experience again.

“I’m not obsessing,” Buck tells her. “I just—I want to know more.”

I want to be prepared.

I want to know why I survived and so many people didn’t.

The hardest thing about surviving a natural disaster isn’t the surviving bit; it’s moving forward afterwards. Buck has read enough books to know that. And he’s trying. He is. He’s just—not sure what he’s moving forward to.

 **

Christopher gets hurt at school and Buck tells Eddie about Jim Abbott’s book. It feels good, using something that inspired him to inspire someone else. He and Eddie spend hours watching YouTube tutorials so they can build Chris a CP friendly skateboard, and the look on the kid’s face when they push him through the park—Buck wants to bottle it, hold that happiness close to his chest and remember it always.

He’s over at the Diaz house for dinner a week later. They play video games and eat their weight in pizza and Buck feels so happy it hurts. There are glow in the dark stars on Christopher’s bedroom ceiling—a result of the kindled interest in space—and Buck sits on the floor and stares up at them, listening while Eddie reads a bedtime story. He doesn’t want the moment to end, but of course it has to. Eddie holds out a hand and Buck takes it to pull himself to his feet, overbalancing a little, stumbling into Eddie. Eddie catches him easily, like it doesn’t even require thought, smiling as he leads the way out to the living room. Buck sits on the couch, feeling strangely unsure of himself, waiting while Eddie disappears to get them a couple of beers.

He is surprised when Eddie comes back with not only the beers, but a book. A hardback, shiny and new, the sticky residue of a price sticker still visible on the cover when he hands it over.

“I thought you might like some new reading material.”

“At Risk?” Buck asks, reading from the title. Curious, he flips the book over to read the blurb.

Eddie shrugs. There’s something almost nervous about the way he moves his hands, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. “It’s about the social side of natural disasters? The sales person recommended it, I was sure...”

“It sounds interesting,” Buck assures him. “But I don’t understand—you didn’t have to buy me a book.”

“I wanted to say thank you. For your help with the skateboard last week and—everything else. Everything you do for us.”

Buck’s throat feels right. “You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for Christopher, you know that.”

“I do.”

The way Eddie is looking at him, it feels—important. Big, in a tingling, nervous kind of way. There is a quiet confidence in Eddie’s voice, a smile at the edge of his mouth, an unwavering belief in—Buck? Them?

I don’t deserve you, Buck thinks. It’s a snaking thought, only out-shadowed by the more painful but God I want you.

He clears his throat, turning back to the book, flipping randomly through it just for something to do.

“Maddie thinks it’s unhealthy,” he finds himself saying. “My obsession with natural disasters.”

“It’s not unhealthy,” Eddie says immediately. Then he falters, stumbling as he goes on, “Unless—it’s not making things worse, right? You’re not—I mean, you’d tell me if you were struggling, right? You’d talk to me?”

They’ve already been through the not-talking-to-each-other thing and it was a disaster on both ends. Buck never wants to put that distance between them again.

“I’d tell you,” he agrees. “I do think it helps, reading about it, understanding why these things happen and how people pick themselves up afterwards... It makes me feel less alone, I guess.”

He immediately wants to take the words back. Not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does, and the look on Eddie’s face makes him wish that he didn’t.

“You’re not alone, Buck,” he says, quiet in his sincerity. He sits down, close enough that their knees touch when he turns so that they’re facing each other. His hand twitches, an aborted movement to reach out, grip tightening on the beer bottles he’s still holding instead. His eyes search Buck’s face, wide with worry, as he adds, “You know that, right? You’ve got Maddie, the 118, me and Chris.”

Buck looks away, blinking to try and clear the tears that are welling up. He doesn’t want to cry. It’s so stupid. Eddie gave him a book and said a few nice things and Buck was maybe a bit too honest and now Eddie is worried and Buck doesn’t know what to do with that, except cry, apparently, because he’s a fucking mess and—

“Hey.”

Eddie does reach out this time, beers cast aside so he can put a hand on Buck’s shoulder. It’s almost exactly the same as that day after the tsunami, when he told Buck there was no one he trusted more with his son. A tear breaks free and slides down Buck’s cheek and he quickly dashes it away.

Eddie looks uncertain, but determined, like all he wants in life to fix Buck—to help him fix himself. “Is this just about the tsunami, or...?”

Buck shrugs, feeling small and helpless. He picks up one of the beer bottles, just for something to do, but he doesn’t open it, just picks at the label, keeping his hands busy. Eddie takes his silence for the answer it is.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? We can go out for breakfast in the morning, maybe even take Christopher to the observatory? He’s been begging me to go and I know he’ll be thrilled if you come too.”

Buck hesitates. He doesn’t want to impose. He doesn’t want Eddie’s pity—although even as he thinks it, he knows that isn’t what this is.

“I want you to stay,” Eddie tells him, and Buck knows that he means it.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll stay.”

And that voice in the back of his whispers forever, if you’ll have me.

 **

Three weeks later, Eddie almost dies and Buck—Buck loses his shit. Bobby has to pull him away from clawing at the ground, screaming Eddie’s name, out of his mind with panic and the first stirrings of what he refuses to call grief. Eddie isn’t dead—Eddie can’t be dead.

And he isn’t. He’s hypothermic and half-drowned, but he gets himself out and they get him to a hospital and Buck only has a minor breakdown about it. Bobby drives him home from the hospital and cooks pasta that Buck has no appetite for, hovering in that worried dad way he does. When Buck tells him he can go, that he’s tired, he just wants to sleep, it’s clear that Bobby doesn’t want to leave him alone.

“Do you want me to call Maddie?” he asks. “I’m sure she’d be happy to come over.”

Buck shakes his head. He has already fielded multiple worried text messages from his sister; he’s not sure he has the energy to do it in person too. Besides, the only person he wants is Eddie—who, coincidentally, is the only person he can’t have.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells Bobby. “I know I kinda freaked out, and it was unprofessional, and…”

“You thought your best friend was dead.” Bobby’s voice is understanding. “I don’t blame you for your reaction, Buck.”

Buck can’t look him in the eye. He can’t say yeah, my best friend, that’s all he is. From the way Bobby looks at him for a long moment, he figures he doesn’t have to.

“I’m going to pick Christopher up in the morning,” he says instead. “Take him to visit Eddie before work. Shift starts at twelve, right?”

Bobby looks like he wants to say something more, but in the end he just nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Despite the fatigue pressing in on him, Buck lies awake for a long time that night. He tosses and turns, tries reading and watching a movie and listening to music, but nothing works. His mind won’t stop spinning, replaying the moment the drilling rig collapsed over and over, the way his heart split open, the crushing relief when he heard Eddie’s voice, finally felt him alive—cold and wet but alive—in his hands. Sleep isn’t going to happen, so Buck gives up and opens his phone. He googles: how long can a person survive underwater. Then he immediately closes that and googles instead: how do I tell my best friend I’m in love with him.

**

The answer comes to him in a book. Not a book about love, or relationships, or anything like that. It’s one of the books he bought for Christopher. Buck is putting it back on the bookshelf when a piece of paper falls out from between the colourful pages. When he opens it, curious, be finds a drawing. There is a stick figure that is unmistakably Buck, one with dark hair that must be Eddie, and a curly haired kid in the middle that can only be Christopher. The three of them are holding hands, big grins on their faces, and in childish handwriting above, Chris has written My Family. Buck’s breath catches, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

He doesn’t know what to do. Does he put it back in the book? Does he give it back to Christopher? Does he give it to Eddie?

Does he keep it?

He wants to keep it. He wants to frame it or hang it on the fridge or tuck it into the box with all his other precious keepsakes, there to pull out whenever he needs the reminder.

(Which feels like all the time, these days.)

It’s been a rough week. Eddie has recovered from the well, he’s back at work, and Buck hasn’t found the courage to confess his feelings yet, but things have been fine—good, even. Until last Friday, when he went out to the bar to celebrate alone and met Red, then promptly fucked things up with Red, then sort of fixed them just in time to watch the man die. The funeral was this morning. Maddie brought him back to his apartment afterwards and fussed for an hour and a half before Buck finally convinced her to go home.

He told her he was fine.

It might have been a lie.

He’s still sitting on the floor in front of the bookshelf when Eddie comes in. He doesn’t knock, just uses his key, which means Buck doesn’t get any warning. He doesn’t get a chance to school his face or hide the drawing or—

“Buck?”

There is concern in Eddie’s voice and it’s only when Buck looks up and sees him through a film of tears that he realises he’s crying. He sniffs, ducking his head again to wipe away the tears.

“Sorry.” It comes out choked. “Sorry, I was—I didn’t know you were coming, I was just—”

Eddie kneels on the floor beside him, eyes flicking over him, like he’s making sure Buck isn’t hurt before he asks, “What’s wrong?”

Buck just shakes his head. He’s crying properly now and he’s a little alarmed to find that he can’t stop, no matter how many shuddering breaths he tries to take. It’s not really sobbing, it’s too quiet for that, but the tears are rolling quickly down his cheeks and dripping onto the drawing in his hands and they just… won’t stop. He held it together at the funeral this morning, even when he looked around and saw all the empty chairs, so he thought he’d be fine but now it’s just—too much.

Eddie takes in the tears and the drawing still gripped in Buck’s hand and the worry on his face breaks into something more like heartache. “Come on,” he murmurs, taking Buck’s arm. “Let’s get off the floor, yeah? This can’t be good for you leg.”

Because it’s Eddie and of course he knows that Buck’s leg still hurts sometimes, even after having all the screws removed, even though he tries to hide it. The first thing Eddie does when he helps Buck to his feet is pull him into a hug. Buck is helpless to do anything but sink into it. He loves hugging Eddie. He doesn’t have to bend down as much, the way he does with most people, and Eddie hugs with his whole body, arms warm and strong, cheek pressed against the side of Buck’s head. He even rubs his back a bit, which is exactly as calming as it should be.

Eddie holds on until Buck is ready to let go, tears calmed to the occasional hitch in his breathing. When Buck steps back, he looks him over with that same assessing gaze from before. Buck’s face feels hot, his eyes swollen, achy in that post-crying way where even his lashes hurt. He grimaces when he sees the mess he has made of Eddie’s shirt.

“Sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head, dismissing the concern with ease. “I’ve got a kid, Buck. This is definitely not the first time I’ve been cried on.”

Buck doesn’t have the energy for the smile Eddie is probably aiming to get, which just makes Eddie’s frown get more concerned.

“Go sit on the couch,” he says. “I’ll get you some water.”

“I can—”

“I know.” Eddie’s voice is gentle. “Go sit down anyway.”

Buck sits. There are tissues on the coffee table so he grabs a few and wipes away the evidence of tears while he waits. He’s still holding Christopher’s drawing. It’s a little wrinkled from being crushed against Eddie’s back during the hug, so Buck straightens it, trying to smooth the creases out. He still feels like crying, but it’s a vague, distant kind of feeling. Everything feels distant, actually, like Buck is just drifting, somehow heavy and hollow all at once. Whoever said crying makes you feel better was clearly full of shit.

The touch of a cold glass against his skin startles him, draws him out of his head and back into the swirling worry of Eddie’s eyes. Buck wraps his fingers around the glass of water, not realising how thirsty he is until he’s drinking it. He finishes it and Eddie goes back to the kitchen to fill it up again, wordless, and when he comes back he sits down, so close that their arms brush when Eddie reaches out to trace the edge of Christopher’s artwork.

“I haven’t seen this one,” he comments, smiling at the drawing. “He’s right though.” And he looks at Buck then, as serious as he was all those weeks ago when they did this in his living room. “You are our family.”

It should be reassuring, hearing those words out of Eddie’s mouth, but Buck still struggles to believe them. Eddie wouldn’t lie to him, he knows that, especially not about something like this. But Maddie used to tell him they were a united front all the time, Buckley siblings against the world, always there for each other, and even she left. They may call him family now, but everyone leaves eventually.

Either Eddie knows him so well that he knows what is going through Buck’s head, or the thoughts are painted clearly across his face, because he keeps talking. “What you said in the station the other day, about getting left behind… That’s never going to happen, Buck.”

“Red—”

“I’m not talking about Red,” Eddie cuts in. “I’m not talking about the 118. I’m talking about us. You and me and Christopher. I know you think that you chose us and that we might get sick of you one day, but that’s not going to happen. We chose you too. Family works both ways, and me and Chris—we want you to be a part of ours.”

“I love you.” The words tumble out, unwilling, unplanned, and Buck looks away, unable to face Eddie. He can’t go back, can’t make the words disappear, can’t bear to have their meaning misconstrued, so he keeps going, tripping over himself as he tries to explain. “I think I’m in love with you. For—for a while now, only I didn’t figure it out properly until—until you almost died, Eddie, and I—I can’t lose you, okay? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He risks a look at Eddie, expecting shock and disbelief and maybe cold politeness. Definitely rejection. But there is none of that—no shock or disbelief of cold politeness, and instead of rejecting him Eddie says—

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds—hurt, maybe. Buck looks down at his hands, swallowing against the burn of more tears. “I didn’t know how.” There is the briefest of pauses before he adds, “You don’t have to say anything. I just… You should know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” He stands up, jittery, unable to bear the rejection that he’s still not sure isn’t coming. “You can go. I understand if—if you need some space, if you feel differently now—“

Eddie stands with him. He grabs Buck arm and forces him to turn, to look at him. “Buck,” he says, sounding almost desperate. “Stop. Let me just—“

“It’s fine,” Buck interrupts, heading him off. He tries to pull his arm away and he’s not sure whether he’s more hurt or relieved when Eddie lets him go. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

“Buck—”

“I know you probably don’t feel the same and that’s fine, I just—”

“Dammit, Buck,” Eddie snaps, frustrated. “Will you just shut up and listen to me?”

Buck is so startled he stops, frozen in the middle of his apartment.

“I don’t want to leave—and I don’t want you to leave either,” Eddie tells him. He pauses, taking a visible breath, almost guilty when he says, “I already know you’re in love with me.”

The earth literally opening up in front of them would be a lesser shock. Buck feels off-balance, like he’s being tossed about by a wave in the middle of his living room. He almost doesn’t recognise his own voice when he says, “You do?”

Eddie nods. He looks—nervous? Uncertain?

“The signs were kind of obvious, actually, after I realised I was in love with you.”

Buck is so caught up on signs and obvious that it takes him a little longer to realise Eddie said he’s in love with him too.

“Oh.” Buck frowns, confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to,” Eddie says. “When I gave you that book? I was trying to tell you, I just… didn’t know how. And then you were upset and it didn’t feel right. And I kept telling myself that if you really did feel the same, you’d tell me, but you never did, so… I don’t know, I guess I convinced myself it wasn’t true.”

“I was afraid,” Buck admits. “This year has been… kind of terrible, at times, but you—you make everything better. I was afraid of losing that—losing you—so I never said anything and then—then you cut your line and that rig collapsed and I almost did lose you and—”

“You didn’t lose me.” Eddie’s voice is soft. He steps forward, takes Buck’s hand and tangles their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. “You’re never going to lose me.”

Buck feels like he can’t breathe. Maybe this wasn’t the best time e to have this conversation because his emotions are all over the place and the entire week has been draining, honestly, but—Eddie is here. He came right when Buck needed him, showed up without even being asked, like he just knew. Buck has never had someone who knows him the way that Eddie does. He’s never had someone who wants him the way that Eddie does, completely and unapologetically, ready to shout it to the world if that’s what it takes to make Buck hear.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me right now,” Eddie says. “I’ll just keep showing you, for as long as it takes.”

When Eddie kisses him, it feels less like starting a new chapter and more like turning the page and finding out you aren’t as close to the end as you thought.

 **

A year later to the day, Eddie gives him another book. It’s wrapped in metallic blue paper, taped neatly and tied with a black bow, waiting on the table when Buck gets back from a run in the morning. He picks it up, delighted and curious, running his fingers over the smooth paper, turning it this way and that to see if he can guess what it is.

Eddie watches him from the kitchen doorway, smiling as he says, “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary.” Buck grins. “Can I—?”

One nod is all he needs to tear the paper open.

It’s a photo book. The glossy pages are filled with Eddie and Chris and the rest of their family, some of them clearly posed, but most of them candid. There is Christmas Day at the station; Christopher’s face covered in cake at Eddie’s birthday party; Buck and Chimney asleep together on the couches at the station; Buck and Eddie dancing, oblivious to the world around them; Maddie and Buck leaning against each other, laughing so hard they’re both crying; the whole crew gathered around the kitchen watching Bobby and Athena cook. Dozens of snapshots; dozens of moments of joy frozen in memory. Buck runs his fingers over the pages, smiling as he flips through the book.

“Everyone helped me collect the photos,” Eddie tells him. “And Christopher helped me choose which ones made the final cut. I would have used all of them, but they had a page limit, and—”

“It’s perfect,” Buck assures him. He steps over the bookshelf in the middle of their living room and sets it on top, right in the centre, pride of place. Eddie wraps his arms around him from behind and Buck leans back against him, holding his arms while they gaze at the book together.

“Perfect,” Eddie agrees softly—and Buck knows that he’s not just talking about the book.

He turns in Eddie’s arms so they can kiss, sweet and slow, like they’ve got all the time in the world. Nothing to do, nowhere to be except right here with each other.

**

The next time Eddie give Buck a book, it’s more of a magazine, and they read it together, poring over the pages and making notes, taking the first step in planning their wedding.

[stealingyourbones]

A photoshoot for my grape Powerade bread experiment

[literarypilgrim]

Read Like a Gilmore

All 339 Books Referenced In “Gilmore Girls” 

Not my original list, but thought it’d be fun to go through and see which one’s I’ve actually read :P If it’s in bold, I’ve got it, and if it’s struck through, I’ve read it. I’ve put a ‘read more’ because it ended up being an insanely long post, and I’m now very sad at how many of these I haven’t read. (I’ve spaced them into groups of ten to make it easier to read)

1. 1984 by George Orwell  2. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain 3. Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll 4. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon 5. An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser 6. Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt 7. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy 8. The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank 9. The Archidamian War by Donald Kagan 10. The Art of Fiction by Henry James 

11. The Art of War by Sun Tzu 12. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner 13. Atonement by Ian McEwan 14. Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy 15. The Awakening by Kate Chopin 16. Babe by Dick King-Smith 17. Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women by Susan Faludi 18. Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie 19. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett 20. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath 21. Beloved by Toni Morrison 22. Beowulf: A New Verse Translation by Seamus Heaney 23. The Bhagava Gita 24. The Bielski Brothers: The True Story of Three Men Who Defied the Nazis, Built a Village in the Forest, and Saved 1,200 Jews by Peter Duffy 25. Bitch in Praise of Difficult Women by Elizabeth Wurtzel 26. A Bolt from the Blue and Other Essays by Mary McCarthy 27. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley 28. Brick Lane by Monica Ali 29. Bridgadoon by Alan Jay Lerner 30. Candide by Voltaire 31. The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer 32. Carrie by Stephen King 33. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller 34. The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger 35. Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White 36. The Children’s Hour by Lillian Hellman 37. Christine by Stephen King 38. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 39. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess 40. The Code of the Woosters by P.G. Wodehouse    41. The Collected Stories by Eudora Welty 42. A Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare 43. Complete Novels by Dawn Powell 44. The Complete Poems by Anne Sexton 45. Complete Stories by Dorothy Parker 46. A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole 47. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas 48. Cousin Bette by Honore de Balzac 49. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky 50. The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber    51. The Crucible by Arthur Miller 52. Cujo by Stephen King 53. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon 54. Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende 55. David and Lisa by Dr Theodore Issac Rubin M.D 56. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens 57. The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown 58. Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol 59. Demons by Fyodor Dostoyevsky 60. Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller 61. Deenie by Judy Blume 62. The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America by Erik Larson 63. The Dirt: Confessions of the World’s Most Notorious Rock Band by Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars and Nikki Sixx 64. The Divine Comedy by Dante 65. The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells 66. Don Quixote by Cervantes 67. Driving Miss Daisy by Alfred Uhrv 68. Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson 69. Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales & Poems by Edgar Allan Poe 70. Eleanor Roosevelt by Blanche Wiesen Cook 71. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe 72. Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters by Mark Dunn  73. Eloise by Kay Thompson 74. Emily the Strange by Roger Reger 75. Emma by Jane Austen 76. Empire Falls by Richard Russo 77. Encyclopedia Brown: Boy Detective by Donald J. Sobol 78. Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton 79. Ethics by Spinoza 80. Europe through the Back Door, 2003 by Rick Steves

81. Eva Luna by Isabel Allende 82. Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer 83. Extravagance by Gary Krist 84. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury 85. Fahrenheit 9/11 by Michael Moore 86. The Fall of the Athenian Empire by Donald Kagan 87. Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World by Greg Critser 88. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson 89. The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien 90. Fiddler on the Roof by Joseph Stein 91. The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom 92. Finnegan’s Wake by James Joyce 93. Fletch by Gregory McDonald 94. Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes 95. The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem 96. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand 97. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley 98. Franny and Zooey by J. D. Salinger 99. Freaky Friday by Mary Rodgers 100. Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut 101. Gender Trouble by Judith Butler 102. George W. Bushism: The Slate Book of the Accidental Wit and Wisdom of our 43rd President by Jacob Weisberg 103. Gidget by Fredrick Kohner 104. Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen 105. The Gnostic Gospels by Elaine Pagels 106. The Godfather: Book 1 by Mario Puzo 107. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy  108. Goldilocks and the Three Bears by Alvin Granowsky  109. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell  110. The Good Soldier by Ford Maddox Ford 

111. The Gospel According to Judy Bloom 112. The Graduate by Charles Webb 113. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck 114. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald 115. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens 116. The Group by Mary McCarthy 117. Hamlet by William Shakespeare 118. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling 119. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling 120. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers    121. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad 122. Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry 123. Henry IV, part I by William Shakespeare 124. Henry IV, part II by William Shakespeare 125. Henry V by William Shakespeare 126. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby 127. The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon 128. Holidays on Ice: Stories by David Sedaris 129. The Holy Barbarians by Lawrence Lipton 130. House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus III    131. The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende 132. How to Breathe Underwater by Julie Orringer 133. How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss  134. How the Light Gets In by M. J. Hyland  135. Howl by Allen Ginsberg  136. The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo  137. The Iliad by Homer 138. I’m With the Band by Pamela des Barres  139. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote  140. Inferno by Dante 

141. Inherit the Wind by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee 142. Iron Weed by William J. Kennedy 143. It Takes a Village by Hillary Rodham Clinton 144. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte 145. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan 146. Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare 147. The Jumping Frog by Mark Twain 148. The Jungle by Upton Sinclair 149. Just a Couple of Days by Tony Vigorito 150. The Kitchen Boy: A Novel of the Last Tsar by Robert Alexander 151. Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain 152. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini 153. Lady Chatterleys’ Lover by D. H. Lawrence 154. The Last Empire: Essays 1992-2000 by Gore Vidal 155. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman 156. The Legend of Bagger Vance by Steven Pressfield 157. Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis 158. Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke 159. Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them by Al Franken  160. Life of Pi by Yann Martel 

161. Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens 162. The Little Locksmith by Katharine Butler Hathaway 163. The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen 164. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott 165. Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton 166. Lord of the Flies by William Golding 167. The Lottery: And Other Stories by Shirley Jackson 168. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold 169. The Love Story by Erich Segal 170. Macbeth by William Shakespeare 171. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert 172. The Manticore by Robertson Davies 173. Marathon Man by William Goldman 174. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov 175. Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter by Simone de Beauvoir 176. Memoirs of General W. T. Sherman by William Tecumseh Sherman 177. Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris 178. The Meaning of Consuelo by Judith Ortiz Cofer 179. Mencken’s Chrestomathy by H. R. Mencken 180. The Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare 181. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka 182. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides 183. The Miracle Worker by William Gibson 184. Moby Dick by Herman Melville 185. The Mojo Collection: The Ultimate Music Companion by Jim Irvin  186. Moliere: A Biography by Hobart Chatfield Taylor  187. A Monetary History of the United States by Milton Friedman  188. Monsieur Proust by Celeste Albaret  189. A Month Of Sundays: Searching For The Spirit And My Sister by Julie Mars 190. A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway 

191. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf 192. Mutiny on the Bounty by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall 193. My Lai 4: A Report on the Massacre and It’s Aftermath by Seymour M. Hersh 194. My Life as Author and Editor by H. R. Mencken 195. My Life in Orange: Growing Up with the Guru by Tim Guest 196. Myra Waldo’s Travel and Motoring Guide to Europe, 1978 by Myra Waldo 197. My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult 198. The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer 199. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco 200. The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri 201. The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin 202. Nervous System: Or, Losing My Mind in Literature by Jan Lars Jensen 203. New Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson 204. The New Way Things Work by David Macaulay 205. Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich 206. Night by Elie Wiesel 207. Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen 208. The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism by William E. Cain, Laurie A. Finke, Barbara E. Johnson, John P. McGowan 209. Novels 1930-1942: Dance Night/Come Back to Sorrento, Turn, Magic Wheel/Angels on Toast/A Time to be Born by Dawn Powell 210. Notes of a Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski

211. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (will NEVER read again) 212. Old School by Tobias Wolff 213. On the Road by Jack Kerouac 214. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey 215. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez 216. The Opposite of Fate: Memories of a Writing Life by Amy Tan 217. Oracle Night by Paul Auster 218. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood 219. Othello by Shakespeare 220. Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens 221. The Outbreak of the Peloponnesian War by Donald Kagan 222. Out of Africa by Isac Dineson 223. The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton 224. A Passage to India by E.M. Forster 225. The Peace of Nicias and the Sicilian Expedition by Donald Kagan 226. The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky 227. Peyton Place by Grace Metalious 228. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde 229. Pigs at the Trough by Arianna Huffington 230. Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi 231. Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain 232. The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby 233. The Portable Dorothy Parker by Dorothy Parker 234. The Portable Nietzche by Fredrich Nietzche 235. The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House, and the Education of Paul O’Neill by Ron Suskind 236. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen 237. Property by Valerie Martin 238. Pushkin: A Biography by T. J. Binyon  239. Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw  240. Quattrocento by James Mckean 

241. A Quiet Storm by Rachel Howzell Hall 242. Rapunzel by Grimm Brothers 243. The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe 244. The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham 245. Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi 246. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier 247. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin 248. The Red Tent by Anita Diamant 249. Rescuing Patty Hearst: Memories From a Decade Gone Mad by Virginia Holman 250. The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien 251. R Is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton 252. Rita Hayworth by Stephen King 253. Robert’s Rules of Order by Henry Robert 254. Roman Holiday by Edith Wharton 255. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare 256. A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf 257. A Room with a View by E. M. Forster 258. Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin 259. The Rough Guide to Europe, 2003 Edition 260. Sacred Time by Ursula Hegi 261. Sanctuary by William Faulkner 262. Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Milford 263. Say Goodbye to Daisy Miller by Henry James 264. The Scarecrow of Oz by Frank L. Baum 265. The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne  266. Seabiscuit: An American Legend by Laura Hillenbrand  267. The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir  268. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd  269. Secrets of the Flesh: A Life of Colette by Judith Thurman  270. Selected Hotels of Europe 

271. Selected Letters of Dawn Powell: 1913-1965 by Dawn Powell 272. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen 273. A Separate Peace by John Knowles 274. Several Biographies of Winston Churchill 275. Sexus by Henry Miller 276. The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon 277. Shane by Jack Shaefer 278. The Shining by Stephen King 279. Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse 280. S Is for Silence by Sue Grafton 281. Slaughter-house Five by Kurt Vonnegut 282. Small Island by Andrea Levy 283. Snows of Kilimanjaro by Ernest Hemingway 284. Snow White and Rose Red by Grimm Brothers 285. Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World by Barrington Moore 286. The Song of Names by Norman Lebrecht 287. Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia de Burgos by Julia de Burgos 288. The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker 289. Songbook by Nick Hornby 290. The Sonnets by William Shakespeare 291. Sonnets from the Portuegese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning 292. Sophie’s Choice by William Styron  293. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner  294. Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov 295. Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach  296. The Story of My Life by Helen Keller  297. A Streetcar Named Desiree by Tennessee Williams  298. Stuart Little by E. B. White  299. Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway  300. Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust 

301. Swimming with Giants: My Encounters with Whales, Dolphins and Seals by Anne Collett 302. Sybil by Flora Rheta Schreiber 303. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens 304. Tender Is The Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald 305. Term of Endearment by Larry McMurtry 306. Time and Again by Jack Finney 307. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 308. To Have and Have Not by Ernest Hemingway 309. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee 310. The Tragedy of Richard III by William Shakespeare    311. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith 312. The Trial by Franz Kafka 313. The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson 314. Truth & Beauty: A Friendship by Ann Patchett 315. Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom 316. Ulysses by James Joyce 317. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath 1950-1962 by Sylvia Plath 318. Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe 319. Unless by Carol Shields  320. Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann 

321. The Vanishing Newspaper by Philip Meyers 322. Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray 323. Velvet Underground’s The Velvet Underground and Nico (Thirty Three and a Third series) by Joe Harvard 324. The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides 325. Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett 326. Walden by Henry David Thoreau 327. Walt Disney’s Bambi by Felix Salten 328. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy 329. We Owe You Nothing – Punk Planet: The Collected Interviews edited by Daniel Sinker 330. What Colour is Your Parachute? 2005 by Richard Nelson Bolles 331. What Happened to Baby Jane by Henry Farrell 332. When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka 333. Who Moved My Cheese? by Spencer Johnson 334. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee 335. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire 336. The Wizard of Oz by Frank L. Baum 337. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte 338. The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings 339. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

[anneimaginesundertale]

How's everyone's jobs going?

Everybody’s doing great at their jobs! Most of them haven’t changed, but I don’t know that I have an updated list of what they all do and what they’re working on, so here goes:

Sans works at the planetarium. He’s currently supposed to be helping them get new shows in place for summer.

Papyrus is the Monster Ambassador. He’s currently working on all the paperwork and behind-the-scenes stuff for Blue and Ray’s wedding. They’re it the first monster/human couple to get married, but it’s not a common practice yet. Pap is saving them a lot of boring work.

Blue works as an instructional assistant at Toriel’s school. He’s left his night job as a security guard and is hoping to join a Transition to Teaching program to get his teaching license at some point in the future!

Stretch is a writer. He works from home and is still about halfway through a new novel. (He claims he could be further along but his characters are being mean to him. They keep wanting to smooch instead of solve mysteries.)

Red still works at the repair shop, but he’s getting really fed up. He finally complained enough that Boss is looking into getting him onto the IT team at his office instead. Red isn’t sure if that’s a step up or not, but he appreciates the effort.

Boss is the office manager at a big office building. He takes his job very seriously. He’s kind of like the office mom. He knows where everything is and he’s in charge of keeping it all straight. The workers both love and fear him. (He’s in charge of the printer too, and he can always get it to work. Everyone is convinced that it’s terrified of him.)

Black is still a police detective. He’s got several cases he’s working on, but the only one he’ll tell me about is to do with the theft at Alphys’s lab. All he’ll say on that one is he’s still looking into it. (Black takes his job very seriously.)

Rus works at the animal shelter in town. He’s getting ready for summer fun with doggos there, as well as a probable rush of new kittens. He is very happy.

Sansy is still working for the package delivery service by day, but he’s finally started going to open mic nights and working on his comedy routine! I think it’s going well, and we’re all really proud of him.

Sweets works for Muffet at her bakery. He is officially done with his culinary school program and Muffet snapped him up before anybody else could. He’d kind of like to start his own business, but he worries about getting into competition with Muffet. For now he’s happy to be part of her team (the only non-spider there, I might add!) He is working on a book of all his favorite recipes!

Bones works at the antique store in town. Owliver, the sleepy old shop owner, is glad to have his help. He keeps things tidy (which is a feat for a lazy bones!) and has fun figuring out when some of the things are from. He also gets to test the typewriters that come in. All of them have funny messages on their test papers now, like Help! This typewriter is haunted and it sucked in my soul! Don’t touch the keys!

Lucky works for the Monster-Human Alliance as a lawyer. He is very good at his job and works hard to keep the peace. He can’t really talk about any cases he has at the moment, but he assures me none of them are big or interesting, and that’s a good thing. In his spare time, he plays music.

Smiley and Grim run a casino together out in Las Vegas. They mostly work from home now (don’t ask me how that works...I think it involves security cameras...) They assure me that business is booming, although an old rival has recently arrived in town.

G runs a detective agency and freelances as a travel writer as well. The agency is running fine (mostly thanks to @isnt-that-something’s Jess working as his secretary/partner in crime; I know for a fact that she keeps the place working). The travel writing is doing okay, but since it’s a freelance gig, G only tends to focus on it when he doesn’t have any detective work to do. It’s kind of a side gig at this point.

Aster is a professor at Ebott College. He’s always very busy, but he assures me that he still enjoys it. I think he pulls all nighters as much as the college kids do.

Comet is a little over halfway through his college courses to get a degree in botany. He’s excited to be doing more field work now and is hoping to take a few trips to other countries to study their plants.

Captain now officially (o-fish-ally?) works at the aquarium! He’s super excited! He loves giving tours and taking care of all the animals. He’s not a fan of all the fish puns, though. We still make them, just for the halibut.

Break and Tango run a dance studio, with the help of @pureangleda’s Roxanne and Jack. (You can check out how they’re doing over at @roxanneandjackrp.) Tango does most of the work behind the scenes (scheduling and deciding who teaches what class, etc.) Break says he’s mostly there for moral support. He’s also the better of the two brothers at running the sound system.

The Underocean boys don’t really have jobs, but Bubbles (UO Sans) “works” with Bailey, who runs the souvenir shop on the pier. He finds them all kinds of sea glass and shells and treasures. Finn (UO Papyrus) helps Quinn the marine biologist with their work to protect the coral reef.

I think that’s everybody. I know you guys will let me know if I missed anyone.

[send-me-your-hcs]

Dinner is served

Based on this by @satanic-starker ♥ Hope you enjoy, friend.

Warnings: consensual somnophilia, utter and explicit filth.

There’s a text waiting for Tony when he steps off the plane: Come straight home. I’ll have dinner ready for you.

It brings a smile to his face. It’s an adorable, uncharacteristically domestic thing for Peter to text him. For starters, neither one of them can cook to save his life. But the fact that Peter is willing to try warms his heart.

He texts back, Just landed, see you soon, which gets no reply. He figures Peter is elbows-deep in some recipe far above his skill level and sufficiently working himself up over the whole thing by now.

Poor thing. He truly can be quite the perfectionist, sometimes. Tony wouldn’t change a single thing about him, but he does wish Peter was more forgiving with himself now and then. The boy can come dangerously close to stepping on his territory. Tony’s the insecure, neurotic one with a fetish for beating himself up over every little thing in this relationship, thank you very much.

It takes him an hour to get home through the dinner rush of Manhattan traffic. When he opens the door, he’s surprised - and only slightly, minutely worried - to see the lights off, the open living, dining room and kitchen empty. Everything is tinted orange from the setting sun streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their penthouse, highlighting that Peter is nowhere to be seen. “Pete? You here?”

No reply. He tries not to worry about it as he glances through every door on his way to the master bedroom. He hopes Peter hasn’t depressed himself by failing to concoct something edible; he should know by now that if culinary skills mattered that much to Tony, he wouldn’t be dating him.

Oddly though, the penthouse doesn’t smell like the kitchen’s even been used since the morning Tony left for his trip, when he mixed himself his usual get-up-and-go smoothie. Maybe Peter did actually manage to make something, but it’s a cold dish, with next to no cooking required? That’s just about the happiest scenario Tony can envision as he pushes the bedroom door open - Peter, throwing some lettuce and tomatoes in a salad bowl and calling it a day. The mental image makes him grin.

The sight of his bed makes him trip.

Ass. That’s the first thing he sees. Beautiful, soft, firm and plump all at the same time. That perfect, heart-shaped little ass, he’d know it anywhere. It’s on display for him, propped up by a thick pillow shoved under Peter’s hips. His slender legs are parted enough to reveal the baby-pink pucker between his cheeks. It makes his mouth water.

Then he sees the note, resting innocently on the sheets between Peter’s legs:

Dinner is served. ♥

All the blood in Tony’s body nose-dives for his dick.

He steps around the bed and spies Peter’s sleeping face. The boy has both arms crossed beneath his head, pillowing it. His face is turned to the side, facing Tony, lips slightly parted as he breathes softly in his sleep, his delicate lashes fanning across his cheeks. His curls, still damp from the shower, fall across his forehead and frame his youthful face. It’s a deceptively angelic sight. It should be a crime for someone to look so innocent when they’re capable of this kind of debauchery.

Well. Tony’s never been one to waste a good meal.

Gently, he kneels on the bed and positions himself comfy-cozy between Peter’s parted thighs. The boy smells like apple-scented soap and flowery shampoo. Tony braces his upper body weight on his elbows, lying on his stomach, and delicately runs both hands up the backs of Peter’s thighs. The boy hardly stirs.

He leans in. His thumbs caress the soft curves of Peter’s cheeks, pressing in and testing their plumpness. He would date Peter purely for this ass alone. The fact that the boy is sweet and brilliant and kind and beautiful are simply bonuses. The icing on a very delicious slice of cake.

Speaking of delicious. Tony wets his lips with his tongue as he spreads Peter’s ass open wider, leaning in to slot his face right in the valley between his cheeks. Peter shifts at the coarse scrape of Tony’s facial hair against his skin, mumbling softly in his sleep, but doesn’t wake.

Tony kisses him. Long, languid and slow. Kisses him right on that perfect pink hole and lets his wet lips linger on the furled skin. He takes his time - it’s impolite to rush a home-cooked meal made with love, after all. He kisses Peter’s hole and kneads the swell of his ass with his hands until saliva is smearing across his chin, his cheeks. Only when Peter is dripping wet does he finally press the tip of his tongue to his rim.

Peter arches his back off the bed like a cat when Tony presses inside.

He wants to say good morning, or make some sleazy bon appétit joke, but neither seem worth having to pull his mouth away from Peter’s delectable ass. Now that the boy’s awake, letting out a loud, confused groan that sounds distinctly like, “Hnnwuaah?” Tony throws caution to the wind and presses in as close as he can get, pillaging with his tongue. Peter’s hips instinctively jerk away, but Tony grabs him tightly, hands wrapping around the sharp juts of his hip bones, and rocks him back onto his tongue like a fleshlight.

“Haa - hhaaah,” Peter pants, squirming and bouncing his hips against the pillow beneath him, so adorably eager to ride Tony’s face. “Tony, Tony - ohh, fuck - ”

Smiling, Tony drags his tongue up the seam of Peter’s ass and back down, momentarily laving it over the underside of his balls, before licking back up to his hole and diving in. He pulls back, spits on the quivering, glistening rim, then fucks his tongue back inside. Peter moans wetly underneath him, his poor hole no longer pastel pink, but red, wet and puffy from the constant assault.

“Tony - ” he gasps, calves knocking against Tony’s shoulders as he bucks his hips, “Oh God, fuck, I’m gonna cum - ”

Invigorated, Tony buries his face hard between Peter’s cheeks and curls his tongue inside of him, lapping and pressing against his inner walls in all the little places he knows drive Peter crazy. Peter whines like he’s in pain when he cums, ass rocking desperately against Tony’s face as he arches his back, covering Tony’s expensive pillowcase in sticky ropes of hot, white jizz.

Tony keeps eating him out until Peter’s finished riding out his orgasm. When he pulls back, the poor boy has pinkish streaks on the skin of his cheeks where Tony’s beard has rubbed him raw. His hole convulses as it tries to find Tony’s tongue, ever hungry and seeking to be filled. Too bad it never got the memo that Tony’s the one being fed here.

He kisses Peter’s left ass cheek, then the small of his back, then rolls him over so he can see that flushed, panting little face. Peter gives him a dopey, sexy-happy smile and a dorky little wave, still trying to catch his breath. Tony smiles back, leans down and kisses his hip, then spies the streaks of cum coating Peter’s groin, abdomen and thighs.

“I take it this is dessert?” he asks, and cuts off Peter’s sleepy laugh by licking away a stripe of cum and making him moan.

[devildomdoofus]

Brothers as RDR2 Online Specialist Roles

(Red Dead Redemption 2 - Online)

‼️WARNINGS‼️

‼️contains spoilers up to chp. 16‼️

⚠️viewer discretion is advised⚠️

[[mature themes, mature content, mentions of hunting animals, mentions of blood, animal parts, animal carcasses, mentions of alcohol, murder]]

Author’s Note:

I’ve been playing a HELL of a lot of RDR2 Online and I couldn’t help but see the brothers in cowboy hats and doing cowboy things so here ya go!

Apologies to those who have no clue about what’s going on... if I need to, I can make a post to sort of explain it all. Just let me know 😊✨

If there’s another game that you’re interested in seeing the brothers (or undateables) in, send me a request or message and I’ll bring it to life!!

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer: Bounty Hunter

This one might be self-explanatory but..

Whether he openly admits it or not, this man is the textbook definition of sadistic. It’s no secret he enjoys watching his prey squirm and beg for mercy.

Even better when they put up a proper fight. Oh he just loves when they fight back. It’s much more fun that way.

He won’t accept payment for the bounties though. Some may think it’s because he’s an incredible, upstanding citizen, humbly doing his part to stop the “bad guys” and rid the world of crime.

But let’s be real here, it was never about the money. It was the opportunity to be the antihero with a badge.

He was meant for this role and this role was meant for him.

Plus, being known and praised as the greatest bounty hunter in the world is one devildom of an ego stroke.

💛Mammon: Trader, Collector, Moonshiner

Textbook entrepreneur (if that entrepreneur had a few sleazy tricks up his sleeves)

And talk about resourceful. He could take the lint in your pocket and make a coat for the winter if you paid him

Ergo, turning animal remains into profit is child’s play.

That is why he fits the role of Trader

Meanwhile, as a Collector...

If there’s an item worth a hefty penny, you can bet your human soul Mammon knows exactly where, when, and how to get it.

He’s got the treasure maps, the inside sources, the outside sources the kleptomaniac hands

Will probably end up on one of his brothers’ bounty posters sooner or later

For Moonshining... It’s tax-free, baby! Of course he’s in the Moonshining biz. And he’s the sneakiest man of commerce the bootlegging alcohol business needs to stay on top, no matter the cost.

The GREAT Mammon’s middle name is sabatoge

🧡Leviathan: Collector

Needless to say, he loves, loves, LOVES collecting things. It’s practically written in his DNA.

Plus, having so many items that a multitude of other people break their necks and spill blood over to get is a pretty big bonus too.

To be the source of envy instead of being envious himself is quite the desperately needed boost to his ego

Selling the items might be something he’ll forever struggle with because he personally enjoys them but... sometimes selling those items means more cash in his pockets to help him in his efforts to collect many MORE items

A glorious circle of of life- er... items.

💚Satan: Literally any role. Prefers Naturalist (Conservationist) or Collector.

He is quite the jack of all trades. There are so very few things that he cannot and will not do because he will try everything at least once besides Solomon’s cooking fiascos

It’s in his nature to be inquisitive and an explorer/adventurer, which is why he would try out and then fit perfectly into any of the roles since he wants to learn about EVERYTHING he can.

But because he’s eager to learn by nature and it is what he’s most comfortable being, he prefers the roles of Naturalist (Conservative) and Collector.

Naturalist because it allows him to study every creature under the sun and stars.

Collector because these items have history and their history can educate him on the world that came before

Making a profit off of both is of very little concern to him. It is truly about the pursuit of knowledge.

💖Asmodeus: Collector. Maybe Moonshiner

Every other role requires him to get dirty (Moonshiner does too but I’ll get to that in a second)

NO. WAY.

He outright refuses. It will be over his dead body before he messes up his look or expensive outfit.

Therefore, Collector is the only remaining role that fits.

Being a gorgeous man, he enjoys gorgeous things and knows a gorgeous thing when he sees one. Being a collector of said things would be a cinch.

Just don’t let him get too filthy.

Now about this Moonshining shtick... being a Moonshiner wouldn’t exactly be completely off the table or as difficult to him as you might think

As long as he’s not the one making the product or sabotaging the competition.

He’s excellent at dealing with people and charming them into saying or doing whatever he pleases.

Which is why he’s an excellent choice for being the face of the Moonshining business. He’s adept at gaining new customers and keeping the loyal ones around.

❤️Beelzebub: Moonshiner, Trader

He has tasted almost every single flavor known to the three realms.

To call him a culinary artist would be to call Niagara Falls a leaky faucet.

This man can make your mouth and stomach feel like they have died and gone to the celestial realm three times over.

He can make Moonshine that’ll have you in tears before your next sip and beg Lucifer to wipe your memory clean so that you may taste it anew once more.

And he’s big and strong. Supernaturally so. He literally scares the competition off. Any stupid brave enough to stick around are in for one devildom of a rude awakening.

As for the Trader business, he’s a legendary tracker and hunter. His nose is that of a bloodhound and can smell his prey from a different zip code.

But he hates for the animals/creatures to be taken for granted so he’s sure to use every last bit of the animal as to not waste a single thing.

He also thanks the creature for their sacrifice and properly buries a piece of them (be it tidbits of fur, feathers, leftover bones, etc.) so that they may rest in peace.

💜Belphegor: Bounty Hunter, Naturalist (Hunter)

Ahhh, to kill humans and be allowed to do so without repercussions: it’s the devildom dream.

Honest with himself or not, Belphegor is a sadist, just like Lucifer (but if you value your 2nd chance at life, don’t tell him that).

Watching and hearing his bounties beg for mercy before he kills them in cold blood is too way much fun.

And giving Lucifer a little “friendly competition” in the Bounty Hunting game is a reward in and of itself

Granted, you get more money for live bounties but.. it’s just easier to kill them off.

and easy is how this man operates.

It’s the same reason he is a Hunter and not a Trader.

It’s easier to sell the animals and/or their bits and pieces in one go to one individual (Hunter) than it is to have to process them all and sell to many individuals across the map (Trader).

Also, the Hunting business helps fund his Bounty Hunting.

Win-win.