Moodboard Monday/Tidbit Tuesday ☔️
I finally managed to make a mood board for the mudslide fic that I actually kinda like, so here, have this and a tiny snippet.
Buck was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened, it was all so quick; the rain, the debris, the mudslide and then the moment of radio silence before the chaotic explosion of noise.
“We’re not giving up on him.” Bobby had said at the time, but after four days, it has become abundantly clear that instead of a search and rescue, most people have already started to treat this as a recovery mission; except they still haven’t recovered the person who mattered the most.
Buck buried his face into his palms, trying to breathe without choking on his own tears, cursing at Eddie in his head for leaving him here, disappearing without a trace.
He took a few deep breaths and pushed himself off of the couch — Eddie’s couch, where he was sleeping the past four days, unwilling to go into the bedroom.
He wanted to be close to the door in case someone else had found Eddie while Buck was wasting his time with sleep, so he could welcome Eddie home and let him take his rightful place in his own bed.
It was almost childish how much Buck was clinging to this fantasy, but it was the only thing keeping him on his feet; and he knew Christopher needed him standing, now more than ever.
tags under the cut 💛
I was tagged by @daffi-990 and @wikiangela thank youuu~ 💛
✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @jamespearce9-1-1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @ladydorian05
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"So there you are, ga ne. Mis—no no. At this point. Just Heat is fine, isn't it?" The cabin door is closed and locked. Galdino stares at man with blue locks with a smile that equals more of a mannequin rather than his true feelings. "That moonshine of yours, quite the thing. Quitee the thing. I sincerely wonder how you can enjoy it, ga ne. ~Saa… in honor of going into an alcoholic coma." The artist stops talking, going unblinking for a minute with empty eyes before regaining his senses. Placing a hand over the forehead, letting out a dry chucke. "Fu ha ha ha~ Excuse me. Anyway, I thought I would share a little of this wonderful day with you. Pocky day. Heard of it? " He throws a 1 kg bag of pocky over the nearest table. Lock seal already opened as he pointed to it. " Go on, Heat. Have one." As he offered, Galdino picked one as well. Chewing on it while locking eyes with the pirate. "Safe and delicious as your moonshine, ga ne."
✞ I it takes him a moment to register that he was being spoken to; despite the audible clicking of the doorlock that signaled that the other man had essentially barricaded them inside the cabin, alone without any witnesses. a slow turn of the head, and suddenly he's locking gazes with candlewick, of all people.
have they ever had a direct conversation before this?
heat can't remember.
he wasn't the type for small talk. not with folk he was unfamiliar with, and not when galdino's starting right out of the gate packing vibes too antsy to ignore, prattling on and on about how much he appreciated downing his home-made moonshine.
so that was where the missing bottle had gone. he should've guessed when he was checking up on the small cupboard tucked away in the ship's hold, only to come up short several days back: a real curiosity, considering the precious few who'd dare lay hands on his belongings without asking first. even kid himself had no particular reason to keep mum about sneaking a cap or two, whenever he felt like chasing after a failsafe buzz. would've been bitchin' about the ensuing hangover the next morning to the entirety of the new world.
the thought of the misplaced liquor somehow ending up in galdino's unsuspecting hands hadn't even crossed his mind. though, he doubted that the other was the type to go rummaging around where he wasn't permitted; much less embark on a thorough hunt to loot another pirate's freshly fermented booze. a prank on their supposedly new 'treasurer', perhaps?
the details escaped him. yet, it seemed like he was more victim than culprit here, judging by the five stages of grief rolling over his bespectacled face in alternating phases.
" that right? surprised to see ya back on yer feet so soon, if ya ain't lyin'. my brew's pretty strong. would've brought ya flowers or somethin' if i knew you were bedbound. "
the comment eases out casual, and equally as dry, while he lets his hand slip absent-mindedly to scratch at his forearm in an open gesture of awkwardness. he's double surprised at the waxman's relentless glaring, doesn't care for how he's crunching away with pocky between his teeth, unmistakably devious.
eventually, he answers with a loose shrug, not intimidated, but definitely skeptical.
" 'preciate the offer, but i think i'll pass. "
heat doesn't buy it. whatever galdino was planning on selling him. still, he reaches to grab what's been abandoned on the table with a pasty hand.
" tell ya what. how 'bout i do ya a solid and pass yer stash of sweeties along to the captain? "
he tests the weight of the bag in his hand; hundreds of biscuit-sticks shifting around within flexible plastic, untouched and ignored. a whole kilogram of pocky on its own was already too dodgy to begin with— and a part of heat wants to know how he's managed to obtain that much, annual holiday or not. the faint trace of a lazy smirk hints at his threaded mouth, but there's hardly any humor present there.
" — think we all know by now that boss's got a way bigger appetite than anyone 'ere. i'll even be nice and credit ya. who knows, might earn ya a few brownie points. "
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