#but enjoy tidbits

[monakisu]

about saiki kusuo...

he's a leo.

he's incredibly tidy. if his parents leave the house in a mess, he'll complain but proceed to deep-clean it anyways.

he's a stickler for other people's safety. if he notices someone's shoelace is untied, he'll tie it for them, regardless of the circumstances (ie. smack-dab in the middle of a sports game)

on another note, he seems to have a fixation with tying people's shoelaces for them.

he's weak for sweets in general, not just coffee jelly. sweet tooth saiki!

he has a huge soft spot for kids. this probably stems from his failed childhood friendship with akechi.

he's scared of bugs because he can't read their minds. this implies that powerless!saiki might be a lot shyer, more anxious, and even pricklier, since he doesn't know what anybody's thinking.

he's totally a mama's boy. he learned his moral compass from her, does whatever she wants, believes he was born an esper to protect her, etc.

also, the notorious zebra print blazer was because of his mom.

he's so much of a people-pleaser that he'll sacrifice his desire for anonymity and normalcy; he'll insert himself into situations, stalk people, and use his powers even if it means the spotlight will fall on him.

not only is he a people-pleaser, he's a drama queen. he'd rather concoct elaborate plans to avoid somebody instead of simply rejecting them.

he's a one piece fan.

his favorite arcade game used to be whack-a-mole, and he thought destroying all the moles meant he'd won. he was banned because of this.

his glasses are colored glasses from his childhood toy box. wording implies that he's been wearing this same pair his whole life.

he likes baking/cooking, mostly because he gets to eat the sweets that he made. (househusband saiki... heh.)

he smiled a lot more freely as a kid. when he wasn't wearing a dazed expression, he looked like quite the cheerful child.

he helps kaido out with classwork by simply handing him his own work.

he rarely gets sick, and when he does he can cure himself by turning his body into an inferno through pyrokinesis. however, this means he knows next to nothing about medicine.

similarly, he's tragically naïve about the internet.

he's good at singing and likes karaoke (preferably singing by himself).

like kaido, he gets seasick. however, he fervently denies this. he seems to think himself impervious of the maladies regular people suffer from.

he has a bit of a girly run.

he likes using takahashi as a joke. "it's everyone's favorite, takahashi." he also hates takahashi because of his strong resemblance to akechi's childhood bully, takashi.

he likes hot baths.

when he walks home from school, he follows this routine: he stops at the convenience store, picks up coffee jelly, puts it back on the shelf, then continues home. ...incredible. he seems incapable of not staring at any nearby coffee jelly.

he may be willing to downplay his smarts/talents to avoid trouble, but he'll get competitive when he's with akechi or kusuke.

he's hesitant to cause his friends any harm, but will freely maim toritsuka, so long as the damage is immediately reversed.

he won't hesitate with kusuke, though.

lastly, and most importantly:

he's a cutie patootie <3

[legobiwan]

Apropos of nothing, here's my personal headcanon in regards to Mario and Luigi's surname.

Now, it's been generally announced and accepted that the brothers' last name is "Mario," shackling them with the somewhat awkward full names of "Mario Mario" and "Luigi Mario." My take on this is that the family's original last name was "Marianetti" (likely coming from the more common "Marinetti"). This name was changed to "Marionetti" when the boys' grandmother came over from Italy. (A common occurrence in record keeping at immigration at the time. Someone probably had bad handwriting and smudged a pencil stroke somewhere. It happened in my family for sure).

In Brooklyn, their father went by the last name "Marionetti," which ended up shortened to just "Mario," as oftentimes he would be addressed by his surname only. (Think, "Hey, Mario! Get over here!" as opposed to "Hey, Marionetti! Get over here!")

So, the boys are born and get their names. (Their father's middle name was Mario, and so our Mario, being the oldest, inherits his father's middle name as his first name. Luigi's name maybe comes from the middle name of some uncle who is long out of the picture).

So we have "Mario Marionetti" and "Luigi Marionetti." Which, their surname being a mouthful, gets shortened to "Mario" more often than not, just like their father. And thus we end up with "Mario Mario" and "Luigi Mario," culminating in the "Mario Brothers."

[sevastiel]

Behold ye, my Protoframe oc, Darius.

(Ft @doggojin and @thatfluffyboi's Chanho n Sol, they make an delightful trio tbh)

Some extra deets (lots of notes on him be warned) post cut! :)

Separated into physical and psychological/lore.

Physical notes :

Spanish-Mediterranean, mid-to-late twenties, looms at a ridiculous 6'6" (200 cm I believe? around there.) but is normally hovering an inch or two off the ground. Thankfully, he's gotten into the habit of tucking his legs in a bit so he doesn't hit every single doorframe that he passes through. He lost his left leg from the knee down due to an unfortunate incident with a landmine, and had a prosthetic for several years before the techrot.

Darius's body is made up of connected pieces held together by sentient energy, and all of his organs have either been replaced by the techrot-sentient hybrid growths, or are no longer necessary and have been removed. He currently lacks the entirety of a regular digestive tract as we would know it, and subsists mostly on energy. However, should he require physical mass for either rebuilding/modifying himself, or creating other sentients, he can 'eat' by putting materials in his mouth, pulling his bodily pieces together, and allowing the techrot systems to dissolve things into more workable particles, or pushing things between separated segments of his body (usually his chest) and letting the sentient bits pick things apart and feed them to the rot for storage. (This takes longer and is less effective at energy conservation) Extra notes on this later when we discuss his abilities.

The connective energy between segments is manifested in string-like bundles of force, which are manipulatable and can be 'touched', though unless he's focusing on keeping his energy properly contained you will likely get a light zap, and with prolonged touch you'll likely be able to feel them hum with power. They normally have about the same tactile strength as woven spiderwebbing of the same thickness, stretching easily but ultimately severable with either enough effort or something sharp. Should you sever all the connections, the piece will just fall off. Removed pieces aren't controllable by him any longer, but are re-attachable, and although he's got a body plan that his form defaults to, every single bit of him is entirely modular except for his cranium. Removing his jaw takes some effort, as there are technically still segments of flesh (his lips, basically) holding it on, but it is possible. If he really puts his mind to it, though, he can remove a segment, and maintain the links through mental focus, or by tethering them to something that he/they can feed off of. Through this, he can make replacement limbs for others, or additional armor, given they've got the bio-energy to keep the segments active.

Bodily segments are almost entirely made of toughened armor plating, with the majority of flexibility being located on the twin pieces that make up his chest/torso, as this is also where the majority of the techrot based organs lie. Although he does need to breathe, each segment intakes oxygen individually, through the softer and more porous dark insides. He has full sensation in any piece of him that he's linked to, as the energy connections serve as a nervous system, and can 'digest' pieces if he's in desperate need of energy/materials in a pinch.

Being modular, he can, in the same way he summons other sentients, simply craft himself differing body parts whenever he so pleases. The larger the piece, the more effort/thought it takes, since it requires a greater complexity of systems for nutrient, oxygen, and waste management. Due to his own lack of knowledge, he doesn't manifest any replacements larger than his own legs, and would rather just spit out a patch and slap it onto injured areas and let the techrot do its thing. This is why his 'armor' looks less dramatic compared to actual caliban, because why the hell would he want that much weight throwing him off balance? He'll accept the techrot/sentient's desires and keep his form adjacent to it, though.

Ability wise, he's functionally pretty similar to a vampire. While he technically could subsist entirely off of regular food, it would require a lot of time and careful dieting to gather the proper resources his body needs, and his energy levels would be rather constantly low. So, instead, he just eats as much techrot as he can and prays for the best, or drinks directly from power generators when he can get away with it, or anything similar. Pure energy as a baseline keeps all his sentient systems running, and metals/proteins allow his techrot systems to keep going. Thankfully for him, he's got two boyfriends who are both quite energetic, and really don't mind his needs as much as they should.

Manifesting sentient fighters usually happens in the same way as he manifests new pieces of himself, but with the added caveat that they don't need functional internal systems for long term usage, and he can charge them up with his own power to keep them running as long as he needs. This is obviously extremely resource intensive, but if it keeps those he cares about safe, (and since it appeases the eternal need to consume and create and consume and create and consume and create) he'll do whatever he must.

Due to all of the above, he prefers particularly tight or comfortable clothing,, as it helps mitigate the changes that happen depending on his energy levels. The less he's got, the looser his pieces, and things will just fall off if he's dead tired (lol). So... Avoiding that is nice. Additionally, although he needs his chest cavity within reach for making sentients at a quick notice, he does like looking in the mirror and not seeing his own body immediately as so blatantly inhuman and monstrous. The straps he uses for his military harness are half to hold things and half to straight up just keep himself together. The mask is for keeping his eyes clear of gore while he's in the middle of shit, because that was a severe issue beforehand. Take a bite, get blinded bc there was more fluid than you expected, have to panic and try and fix that mid combat, leaving you even worse off than you were previously? No thanks.

--

Psycological notes and lore:

Before Entrati got his hands on him, he was a well respected mediator that worked on communications for the ICR, and worked directly with the Hollvanian government and its military to allow for the ICR to remain in the city.

Coming from a well off and well expecting background, from a young age he was put through his paces and taught to be the finest edition of a modern renaissance man, giving him very little time to do anything but his studies, and very little affection from anything but perfection. Even then, kinda mid. As such, he is a well mannered and well spoken fellow with a deeply repressed childish nature that only ever comes out at the worst possible times amidst the best possible company.

Having been tailor-made for communications work, he was also ensured a healthy dose in very many other skills that might come up from time to time while traveling. (Including, but not limited to, sewing (which he hates), cooking (which he has extremely low patience for), midwifery (which thank god hasn't come up yet), medical triage (unfortunately has), general electrical and mechanical knowledge (much better for him now than it was before), a few languages, and so forth. Post becoming a protoframe, much of his knowledge has degraded due to the changes required for his brain to be able to control his bio-energy, leaving him constantly irritated when faced with a challenge that he knows DAMN well how to deal with, but cant remember specifics on.

He deals with irritation and anger very expressly, not one for subtlety or sarcasm when it comes to his displeasure. This man will Not be the one making snide jabs across the table, he would instead pull you aside privately and explain quite logically the behaviors he's disliking and see if either an agreement can be reached or if another specialist should be put forth. A trait learned from his parents, no doubt, but also one that helps considerably when it comes to governmental relations and respect.

All of his emotions are generally delt with highly logically, which, when it comes to more positive or soft feelings, gets very awkward and confusing for him very fast. One might find have found him before sitting on a bench, staring up at the falling leaves. If you asked him what he was thinking about, he'd respond that he's trying to comprehend why exactly he should be feeling happy about witnessing something so mundane. He wouldn't leave, of course, he'd still watch, but there will always be a part of him that shies away from emotions as a whole. All the sweeter, imo, when he really starts feeling and letting himself feel. Love is a strange thing, isn't it?

During his time in Hollvania, he got infected through volunteer work, doing his best to actually be helpful past the eternal red-tape. He hid it for as long as he could, taking extra care to frequently wash, scrub down, and then properly bandage and ointment up the affected bits of his arms so he wouldn't risk spreading anything, but it didn't do much for him at all. He was needed to maintain good relations, often running intermediary briefing dialogues to keep both sides as up to date as possible on the ICR's doings, so duty really did pull him in half. (haha) As the rot progressed and claimed more of his body, leaving him weaker and more frequently ill, it was less and less ethically feasible for him to keep working, despite it more or less being the only thing he really knew how to do, and there being very few people who could replace him. If he wasn't doing something, if he wasn't being productive, solving problems, keeping people happy, then what was he?

And then he heard of a man with a miracle cure, our good old Doktor Friday, and the fact that it worked. Naturally, Darius paid him a visit, already having used his infected status as an excuse to let him do a bit more hands on assistance wherever he could. And Entrati indeed did give him a cure, listening and nodding along to all the reasons Darius gave as to why he would likely be a good test subject, especially if it meant that if it worked, Darius would be in an excellent position to grant Albrecht significant funding for expanding his cures to the greater populous, who needed them desperately.

Well, it sure didn't fucking do much, did it, leaving him visually better, but when word got out that the others who'd taken the cure had become super-spreaders, you bet your ass he started panicking immediately. He'd been in rooms for extended periods of time with everyone in command, just his presence might have been enough to entirely destabilize the local government, or absolutely gut the ICR. So, once more, he claimed a stomach illness to take some time off. This was a very big problem, so back he went, livid as all hell, to hunt down Entrati.

He got the whole spiel about unforeseen mutations within the techrot responding strangely, and although he didn't believe it, he already had nothing left to lose. He wasn't a soldier, sure, he had training in fencing, could handle a gun, but he couldn't help like the others could, and he could not go back to the one thing he'd been set up all his life to be. And Entrati had a bit of a twinkle in his eye when he said that there might be something that he could do, but it would take time, and multiple tests, to be able to make it all work. There was another strain Dr E was experimenting with that, as he was shown samples and heard the explanations, seemed to be able to nullify the techrot almost entirely. (It was actually just subsuming it, but visually, the two outcomes were nearly identical.)

So he said yes. Like a fucking idiot.

The initial dose laced him with the helminth strain, preparing his body, granting him strength, even though it hurt so very much, the pain leaving him borderline insensate, unable to do anything but lay there and cry as he felt his very flesh twisting and saw Entrati approach with the second dose after a few hours.

Number two was a low dose of the sentient strain, modified, following Caliban's biological approach, and the reaction between the two was violent, techrot subsumed with a rapid hunger and made to serve a new master. Darius's body quite literally began tearing at the seams, and Entrati took his time with the process, utilizing several more small injections, so he wouldn't die of pure blood loss.

When all was said and done, his twisted body was held together by a scant few threads of power, and he was very much unconscious, having fallen into a coma that would last multiple days, fed with an occasional battery set into the new cavity within his chest.

Wisely, Entrati was not there when he awoke, starving, terrified, and in great pain. All he could focus on was the hunger, that pulsating desire that screamed at him to consume, create, consume, create, consume, create, his human mind utterly overwhelmed by the twin techrot and sentient desires. It took him some time to figure out how to move again, much less walk, and the hunger only got worse by the second.

When the Hex found him, they came across a crying, shattered man, tearing into mounds of freshly killed techrot with his bare hands, stuffing wires and flesh alike into his mouth with an inhuman voracity. He was guarded by bizarre automatons, whos' origin was quickly made apparent by him reaching into that glowing gash that bisected his entire body and pulling out another, his own form splitting and reshaping as he dragged it free.

It took quite some time for him to regain his humanity. Quite some time to mediate the new desires of his reformed body with his own. The urges have not left him, but at least he's got a choice, now.

Prince of both worlds indeed.

[nobleriver]

TWD: The Ones Who Live - Finale Opening Scene + Blurred/Faraway

Requested by Anonymous

[queerofthedagger]

had a vision

[rissaito]

cinders and secrets 🐚

[fandumb-whimsey]

Scarecrow Leg Observations/Headcanons

aka I thought about it too much and now it's everyone else's problem.

(important note: I am not in the medical field and I learned/looked up a lot of this with the help of Dr. Google)

The leg brace seems like a simple detail which can be overlooked in the larger design. On the surface, it's pretty straight forward: leg got damaged and now needs an orthopedic brace to function. This in and of itself is interesting since the artist undoubtedly referenced actual braces, specifically old ones, to fit Scarecrow's aesthetic:

This is a running theme with him; he seems to favor old, antique items and will repair things (like the use of duct tape or zigzag stitching for tears on his costume) before replacing them, which fits an image of someone coming from a background of poverty. Not entirely important to the conversation, just an interesting aside.

There is official material which states his leg is "permanently broken", which is probably the easiest, most succinct way to state this issue, but it's not entirely an accurate way to put it. If a leg is considered broken beyond repair, it's likely to be amputated. Bones which don't heal correctly the first time can be broken again and realigned to heal properly, often through surgery with the use of pins, rods, plates, and/or screws. However, "permanently broken" could also be implying he has suffered irreparable nerve damage which affects the use of the leg (more on that in a moment). One possibility: The bones in Scarecrow's leg do not heal properly due to the severity of his fractures likely needing surgery. Unable to access such resources after his run-in with Croc, this results in a malunion. In his case, the misalignment could be subtle as there is no obvious bend or twist in his leg, but still causes problems which requires use of a brace.

Another possibility: Perhaps he is lucky and his leg does heal well. Maybe there's no malunion at all. Unfortunately, whether the bones mend together well or not, evidence strongly implies that it was broken seriously enough that it damaged his peroneal nerve, leading to muscle weakness and foot drop, which necessitates the use of the brace to function.

If you look closely, you can see there is additional support around Scarecrow's ankle that would otherwise prevent rotation of that joint. You can see this in the game when he circles Batman on the airship:

When he takes a step with his good leg, the foot remains more parallel to the floor. Compare that to the foot in the brace, where the toes point upward with each stride due to being in a fixed position. I feel this is a strong indication of him having lasting damage here (such as foot drop) and part of why the leg brace is vital to his mobility (and undoubtedly one of many reasons why he's so furious at Batman).

Something like this often has trickle down effects. Having to compensate for a weaker limb can throw the body off balance, especially if it's a leg. This can create joint and back pain outside of (or in addition to) the issues related to the initial trauma. Combined with the other things he has had to deal with, there is something to be said of Scarecrow's tenacity. He is very driven and ambitious, even if it's the pure, seething drive for vengeance which causes him to persevere. It's a quality one can admire. :)

The rambling ends here, thanks for reading. And an extra big thanks to a very special someone who, without their help, none of this would be possible...I'm of course talking about my guy KILLER CROC for going absolutely feral in those Asylum sewers, really gave Jonny here a spooky glow-up, am I right?

Pictured: Scarecrow regretting his fear toxin frivolity into the sewers.

[angelpuns]

they're silly...sillies

I think Lil Hater would not like Kid Leo v much upon first meeting him. Cause as soon as he knows a person is safe Leo is v touchy and wanting hugs and wanting to get as much info as possible out of this new person...and Lil Hater does not like talking about himself nd does not like cuddles with people he just met. However! Lil Hater would warm up to him and would probably enjoy listening to Leo talk about whatever nonsense he's got cookin' in that silly brain of his :)

I think Leo would not enjoy putting puzzles together or taking electronics apart BUT he would like playing card games, which Lil hater also enjoys! So they could play card games while Leo yaps :)

[c00kietin]

Dear people of Tumblr,

It is my mission to try and find as many curse words as possible that aren't in the English language, so if you want to, feel free to reblog this posts with some swears from your country! :D

I shall go first: cac or caca in Irish (pronounced cack/cack-ah) means sh*t (:

edit: if you're feeling extra nice, maybe leave a pronunciation if that's okay :')

[pasitheapowder]

Surprise! Molly has a book coming out. And Jane has a conundrum. In this bonus episode, you can listen to a sneak peek of Molly’s forthcoming short story collection, The Sea Gives Up the Dead, catch up with Jane, and stick around for an extra treat. It’s a one-off smorgasbord, baby! Get it while it’s hot!

Preorder The Sea Gives Up the Dead from Red Hen, Bookshop, Barnes and Noble, or your local independent bookstore!

Transcript here. 🖤

[canisalbus]

this image came to me a while back and wouldn't leave me alone until i brought it into the world, and after seeing your Barbenheimer art i thought i might send it to you. love all your work, and it's been great seeing the development of these two! <3

.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY I MISSED TIDBIT TUESDAY!!! SOMEONE SUE ME WAGHHH to make up for it please accept tidbit THURSDAY (a lil longer than usual 'cause I'm real sorry AGH)

"Oh fuck." Dallas skidded to a halt, heaved in the fridged night air in gasps that burned down his throat 'n panted out his nose in hot bursts. Johnny froze beside him, wrapped hands around his biceps 'n dug his nails in.

They were cornered. Fuck. How had Dallas let that happen? But he knew how. 'Cause at some point c'mon just high tail it this way 'n they'll get sick of chasin' 'n bail had become duckin' alleys 'n leapin' fences 'n the sound of sirens comin' ever closer.

Johnny's eyes are sharp 'n dark 'n watchin' Dallas close, his back to the tall fence that bordered the lot. Jesus Christ. Dallas should have been more careful. Ain't no way both of them are gettin' over that. He bites his lip. Hard.

Well. Nothin' to be done about it.

He tears his jacket off his shoulders, slips it off his arms 'n shoves it into Johnny's hands. Johnny hesitates then lets out a low noise, shakes his head, tries to force the worn leather back into Dallas' arms. "Dal, no, c'mon."

"Stop wastin' time, Johnny." His voice comes out a little harsher than he means it to, scrapin' against his chest as his heart bangs away under the veins in his wrists. In one smooth, practiced, 'n worn movement done a hundred times til it was rounded at the edges, he slides his St. Christopher over his head, his ring from his finger, droppin' them both into Johnny's already waitin', upturned palm.

The sirens reach a crescendoin' pitch, wailin' 'n yowlin', the lights cuttin' long, low shadows across the lot. They were out of time.

"Dal-"

"C'mon, kid." Dallas doesn't wait for him to comply, just grabs for his ankle 'n hoists him unceremoniously over the rustin' fence. Like he was already expectin' it, Johnny twists, manages to land on his feet. The sleeves of Dally's jacket hang low over his hands 'n for a moment they both just stand there, lookin' at each other through the braided metal. 'Til Johnny can't stand it anymore, tears his eyes away 'cause lookin' at Dallas like that reminds him of Dally on the other side of chains that can't be cleared as easily as a boost 'n a well-placed leap.

Cops are crossin' the lot now 'n Dallas glances over his shoulder, haloed 'n silhouetted in the red 'n blue. "C'mon Johnny Cakes. You gotta beat it." 'N his voice is low 'n urgent 'n he wants to sound cool 'n tuff but it cracks just a lil' on the edges. But he's gotta get the kid outta here 'cause Johnny had a chance. 'N Dallas wasn't gonna let him go down for somethin' he could throw himself in the way of.

"Dal, please-"

"Johnny please." 'N then he's runnin'. 'Cause Johnny was never as brave as Dallas Winston. 'N he never would be.

Dallas watches his shadow slip away 'n sighs, bares his teeth 'n grins 'n throws his hands mockin'ly into the air. Johnny can hear his gunfire laugh crack crack crack-in' as he ducks into an alley 'n disappears.

...

Johnny clears the Curtis steps in one long leap, bangs the door open harder than he means to 'n flinches. Four heads whip around, Soda 'n Darry already risin' to their feet.

"Johnny? What's-?" Darry freezes, takes a good look at the jacket slidin' from Johnny's slight shoulders, the pendent bit between his teeth, the ring he's gotta keep his fingers bent so it doesn't slide off, 'n sighs. He abandons the plate of dinner he's inevitably just sat down for 'n snaps his keys from the counter.

"Johnny, you ok?" Soda shoves his chair back so it scraps against the tile 'n Darry winces.

"'M fine." He drops the St. Christopher from his mouth, hoists the jacket up. "It's-"

"Dallas." Darry toes his shoes on, grabs a sweatshirt discarded beside the door. "If the station calls, let 'em know I'm already on the way." He sighs again. Johnny sways on his feet, the adrenaline rushin' straight out of him 'cause Darry's got it now. Got him now.

"Johnny, you ok kid?" Soda's got his hands on his biceps now, lookin' him close in the eye.

"Yeah," Johnny heaves in a breath, runs a hand under his nose 'n winces when dry blood flakes off under his fingers, "S'ok."

Soda glances over his head 'n Darry pauses, gives him a look that levels him to his core. He was real good at those. But whatever he sees convinces him Johnny ain't lyin'. He hovers in the door a moment longer, watchin' Johnny with those ice-green eyes before he shakes his head, leans over, 'n brushes the last of the dried blood from Johnny's face.

"Y'know, kid? You look just like him in that." 'N none of them are sure that's a good thing. But Johnny just grins, crooked in the way he learned from Dallas.

"Y'know? There are worse people to be like."

[unexpectedbrickattack]

panel from a comic i am NOT going to finish u.u

Bonus close up of Peppino (bc i love how he came out heehee) and a face from another scrapped panel ^^

[watchyourbuck]

“Is this… turning you on?” if it sparks joy 👀👀👀 xx

Buck was a little shit.

He kept shoving the whole spoonful inside his mouth and licking it clean, swirling his tongue around it like nobody’s business.

Drops of ice cream were spilling over the corner of his mouth, and going down his chin, to which he simply made throaty little sounds to, before wiping them off with the back of his hand.

Yeah, Buck was a little shit because he knew exactly what he was doing.

From across the table, Eddie stared at him with god given patience, breathing heavily and following his every move.

He had made him promise him that he wouldn’t touch him. That he’d only watch.

Thing is, they weren’t alone.

Submerged in menial conversation, Bobby, Hen and Chimney filled the rest of the seats around them. They barked and laughed and told stupid little jokes Eddie couldn’t bring himself to laugh at.

Somehow, none of them had realized something was off — except for Buck, of course, who was on his second bowl of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I said to him– ‘do you even work here?’, and he started panicking!”

Out of context, Chim’s words made no sense, but even if Eddie was uh, focused on something else, he was well aware that they were all making fun of their new probie.

“We should cut him so slack,” said their Captain, fooling absolutely no one. “We don’t want the guy to hate us.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, his gaze flickering only for a second to where Bobby sat, clutching his belly in laughter. Ravi was probably terrified of them all by now.

With a mild clink, Buck attracted Eddie’s attention back to him. He had an eyebrow raised, and he was frozen in the middle of his performance, waiting for his man to concentrate.

Eddie’s ears turned red. He glanced at their friends before straightening up in his seat, trying his best to hide the hand he was using to adjust himself every couple of minutes.

“I’m pretty sure he thought I was a man,” said Hen, to which Chimney doubled over himself to in silent laughter. “He saw me from behind!”

“How- how did he- ? Oh my god,” cackled Bobby, barely getting through the sentence. A tear was forming on the corner of his eye.

They hadn’t laughed like this in a minute.

In hindsight, Eddie would have loved to be a part of the conversation but Buck wouldn’t let up.

The tip of his tongue was now expertly tracing the metal, and although his head was turned to the side, his eyes were still on Eddie.

Dear god. This man was a monster.

Eddie closed his own, exhaling carefully. Both his hands were on his knees, turning white from the grip he had on them. He couldn’t let his will be broken. Not like this, not so embarrassingly easily.

He looked up, only to find the spoon had been replaced by one of Buck’s fingers. His index.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it- isn’t that the one he uses to open you up?

Jesus fucking Christ.

Buck smirked, withdrawing his finger from his mouth with a low pop, specifically made so only Eddie could hear. “Is this… turning you on?” he mouthed, the words trapped in the back of his throat.

Eddie wasn’t the best lip reader, but that he got. “You’re an animal,” he mouthed back, short of panting on the table.

Buck smiled, a little too brightly. He pushed the bowl away from him, earning himself the attention of their friends. “Okay, I think Eddie and I have uh-, a pending discussion. If you’ll excuse us.”

With that, he stood up. He must’ve known his words were as suggestive as they got, but he didn’t seem to care. He looked at Eddie and let out a small ‘c’mon’, before extending his hand to him.

Bracing himself, Eddie mimicked his moves, standing — bent forward, of course, as he didn’t want to poke anyone in the eye —, then grabbing his hand with more need than he wanted to admit.

Hen scrunched up her face. “Guys, c’mon,” she sighed, covering her face with her hands.

Like a child, Chimney made a disgusted noise before averting his eyes.

Buck chortled, leading Eddie around the table, and pushing him so he’d walk in front of him. He let go of his hand to put both of them on Eddie’s hips, prompting him to move.

“Buck, we talked about this!” Bobby yelled, his voice following them as they made their way down the stairs. “Don’t use the firetruck!”

Buck laughed, jumping the last step. He pulled Eddie into the locker room by the collar of his shirt, but not before shouting back. “Yes, Cap!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

please take this as my Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @callmenewbie @lover-of-mine & @hippolotamus thank you all so much! I’ll get to each one of your works shortly💗

tagging in return @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @mattsire @fionaswhvre @buckleyobsessed @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @smilingbuckley @housewifebuck @bucksbirthmark @firemedicdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @evanbegins @butraura @loserdiaz @jeeyuns & @eddie---diaz let me know if you wish to be removed!✨

[literallyrennisdeynolds]

any time i feel sad/unimportant i just remember my ancestors.

(i’m closely related to a man who fought in the revolutionary war ((we have his sword actually)). he built houses and since his wife’s best friend needed one built, he thought he’d help. he ended up building their house and then staying there, and having an affair with the woman’s husband. the best friend was martha washington. my ancestor fucked george washington.)

surely this explains something about me.

[marlynnofmany]

There's a pitch party happening on BlueSky today. I wasn't planning on pitching anything to any agents for the foreseeable future, but the theme of this event is too much fun to pass up.

Who am I to pass up some unhinged book-posting?