izukudrabbles

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devil like me

Being a firefighter rattles his bones and curdles his blood. It’s there and there and just so loud at first he wants to tear the stitches and let the foreign feeling bleed back out onto the floor. It keeps him awake at night, puts him to sleep. It breaks him and heals him and it does everything Eddie has craved to taste since he was discharged. Since he was able to ride a bike, climb a tree. He gets into the 118 with a nauseating feeling burrowing itself into the bends of his body, and meets people he can’t stand. He can’t stand how exceptional they are– how they just are.

But when he's pulling out a grenade lodged into . someone's thigh with a man with a birthmark, pleated in the corner of his eye and a smile that's so achingly familiar he can taste it on his tongue – he realises how ridiculous he is.

Or; Eddie burries away all his memories from the military and tries his best not think about it. But one day Buck finds Eddies old clothes and decides to wear them to a dinner party.

Eddie doesn't know how to feel.

Or or; Buck wears Eddies old Army shirt and dog tags.

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ngl I miss the pornstache a bit. so sue me. look at my little hairy princess

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buck with his diaz shrine on his fridge: why doesn’t my boyfriend want to move in with me :((

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stop trying to make your draft perfect on the first try. your characters don’t care. your plot doesn’t care. even the imaginary readers in your head don’t care because they don’t exist yet. just write the terrible version. write the cringey dialogue and the scenes that go nowhere and the metaphors so bad they make you cringe into next week. because guess what? you can’t edit a blank page, but you can edit a hot mess. embrace it.

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i said this on discord but i want to put it out into the world on tumblr too: imagine eddie and buck, post 8x05. buck is complaining about the boils and how tommy won't even kiss him until they go away. eddie (miserable, still being a bit of a dick) is like, well, no offense but i wouldn't want to kiss you right now either.

that doesn't count, buck says impatiently, because you don't want to kiss me the rest of the time anyway.

and eddie is all of a sudden just sitting there at buck's kitchen table feeling like he got whacked by a two-by-four, because that -

that actually isn't true.

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Eddie Diaz really said "im straight" and basically a minute later was giggling, kicking his feet, twirling his hair because a hot priest called his moustache handsome

The Closet is Glass

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The eight stages of writing :

- this is awesome

- this is slightly less awesome

- this is shit

- I’m shit

-oh god oh fuck what the hell am I doing

-wait this might not be that bad actually

- How the fuck is this working

-This is awesome

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“Do you think soldiers go to heaven?”

Bobby is clearly taken aback by the question and opens his mouth to answer, but stops. After a long intake of breath he looks over at Eddie and nods. “I do. Do you?”

With heavy hands he watches the eyes of Jesus unmoving above him with wounds fresh and open, bleeding against the smell of timber, wood and home. The nails are thick, and Eddie empties his lungs as he confesses.

“No. And if I'm being honest—

—I hope not.”

Or; Eddie runs into Bobby in church and they talk about a lot of things—

Mainly Buck and his loud, alive heart that keeps Eddie awake and stricken with guilt.