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my villain origin story started the second eddie woke up in the middle of the night to that phone call with the news of bobby's death. alone, hand over his mouth to try and stifle / swallow his cries so christopher wouldn’t hear him falling apart while the world just collapsed around him. and what was he left with?? he was left with forever wondering if he could’ve saved bobby if he'd been there. if his being there would’ve changed anything at all. so i'm supposed to go about my life like that didn’t emotionally decimate me? bfr. edmundo diaz, the king of silent suffering, breaking in the shadows to protect his son from his grief. it started there... i blame society, and by society i mean tim minear

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i need everyone to know that @fires0ut once randomly sneezed so absurdly horrendously inhumanely loud that jay got startled to the point of almost reaching for his gun .

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so the air conditioning in my room just abruptly stopped working and we're under extreme heat warning

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Now playing... Ego by Halsey.

An independent portrayal of Evan Buckley, written by Blythe.

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happy monday besties it is sweltering

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slut strand dash icon wee wooo

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Closing Scene of S04E13 - Suspicion 9-1-1, first aired May 17th 2021

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Buck and Eddie realizing the other one might not be okay.

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it's their spot 🥹

9-1-1 Eddie Diaz and Christopher Diaz -> 3x12 // 6x04 // 8x12

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Oh lj what can i say about your eddie that i HAVENT already told you... it's kind of incredible how you're literally living in his head. Like that's the only way you could nail his voice and mannerisms so perfectly every single time. Every reply of yours i read, whether it's for me or someone else, i can hear Eddie's voice and that's one of the most important things to me in a canon portrayal and you've been nailing it on the head since DAY ONE. I'm truly blessed that such a talented writer gets to be the -ddie in my buddie <3

crying out here over portrayal inbox things.

breathes deeply. when i read this days ago i just had to hold onto it for dear life cause i wanted to keep it close to my heart and never let it go. i wanted this tattooed to my soul. thank you so much. thank youuu for your beautiful threads and endless enthusiasm and patience, and for meeting literally any of my dm's and ideas with nothing but eagerness and love. thank you for putting in effort and really delving into plots and threads with me even when i'm slow at coming around. creating au's is my fav thing in the world so i'm just, over the moon to be doing that with them. YOU live in buck's head. your understanding of him blows me away. your adoration bleeds through your writing and i'm so lucky to share this space with you. thank you for letting me be a part of it and their other half ♡ love you fr, muah!

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things you are entitled to in the rpc: kindness, basic human decency, a comfortable space to write, people reading and adhering to your blog rules, the ability to turn anon off and protect your space from hate

things you are not entitled to in the rpc: ships, immediate replies, someone's unwavering time and attention, a follow back, explanation for softblocks/hardblocks, instant messages back

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the city sighs beneath them, a sprawl of ember-lit rooftops and smoke-veiled skies — los angeles, or what's left of it — where the dusk stretches like an old wound across the horizon. the air is thick with ozone and char, not quite suffocating, but still close enough to remind him that the veil between worlds is thinner than ever tonight. the powerlines hum a low warning above, and somewhere in the distance, a siren howls — no longer just a call for help, but a dirge for the fading world he’s still trying to save.

eddie reamins where cracked asphalt meets scorched earth, body aching in the silent ways that don’t always bleed. her voice drifts through the fire-singed air — warm, golden, unrelenting in its tenderness, and it unravels something in him. not in a dangerous way though. just enough to make his fingers flex at his sides, calloused palms brushing against the blackened edge of his vambrace peeking from beneath turnout. the ghost of her concern clings to him more fiercely than the heat.

“ you say that like i'd know when it's too much, ” he states casually, not bitterly, but sincerely, his voice roughened by strife and endless fire, like flame licking against stone. there’s a flicker in his chest at her proximity, the not-quite-touch of it, and he doesn’t shift away. he can’t. maybe it’s that same part of him that steps toward danger when everyone else runs, or maybe it’s that she carries the light in a way he never could. “ truth is, it already is. but I’ve got a kid who still looks at me like I’m more than all this — more than ash. so i gotta keep going. ”

the wind shifts yet again. it carries the scent of her magic — soft, sunlit, threaded with stardust — and for one suspended second, it stills the storm inside him. and yet even in this rare calm, the fire never sleeps. it crackles low behind ribs, aching to be used, aching to be felt. his armor and gear radiate a subtle heat, runes beneath the surface pulsing like the beat of a second heart. around them, remnants of the last battle shimmer faintly — scorched sigils on the ground, soot-marked sigils that even now hum with fading energy. and for all his strength, for all the lives he’s clawed back from death, he knows how thin the edge is. how closely he treads to losing himself to the very force that’s supposed to be saving others.

he watches her through the haze, eyes dimmed only slightly, jaw tight with unspoken curiosities. she shouldn’t have to worry about him. she’s carried enough burdens to drown a dozen lifetimes. but still, he exhales, steadier, softer than before, words barely edged with flame. “ you ever feel like you’re losing the fight, even when you’re still standing? ”

IT IS STRONG IN THE ATMOSPHERE, : THE SCENT OF ASH, FLAMES DIMMED NOW, but the heat lingers. it is not quite strong enough as it was that tragic day : when the very star let out a shriek from within, when calamity struck. ( had she not remembered it now, the ghost of the town of what was made sure she did. ) BUT THIS? she feels the heat radiate from a single source, him. but that does not make the champion doubt, golden heart beats within her chest, &. she steps closer anyway. no malice, no suspicion, the want to be there, to aid.

perhaps that is why ethereal tongue had just dipped into a lighter tune, even when carrying all the weight of the truth : it feels like the first rays of sun upon one's skin, when the new sun rises. something certain, where it is gentle. ( those scorching flames that burn before one gets close are reserved for battles. )

THOSE EYES MEET HERS WITHOUT HESITANCY, : A LOOK SWIRLING WITH THAT TELLS THERE HAS BEEN TOO MUCH SEEN, FOR THERE TO BE HARBORED ANY FEAR. but then again, it is warmth that radiates from the aureate gaze, the genuine kind : one that could not be faked, even when tried. ... it is because of the mutual trust, understanding, that there is almost a hum that escapes as an initial answer to the statement of her already knowing. because of course she did. one recognizes the another, as it goes. so she doesn't say anything more to that, the barely above a sound, warm hum left to vibrate against her lips. but he makes the addition of having it worse. of that, sarastus does not harbor suspicions either. THE TRUTH IS WRITTEN ALL OVER HIM, written in ash. ❝ i do not doubt that you have, ❞ truthful as it can get, even when she keeps her melody a hint more light. she exists close, but not close enough that a barrier is not broken without effort, mindful, even when she cares. she has already eyed him, assessed the damage. in this moment, the sun doesn't burn. ❝ of course i worry, ❞ it comes out as a simple fact. because for her? it is. it is just the way of her, something that forged her to fit every title given upon her. ❝ be truthful with me, if it gets too much. ❞ this, spoken with melodic smooth yet refined tune, it contains a genuine plea, teetering between an command made. she does not say it is too much now, does not doubt him &. his capabilities : she only asked this for when it would happen. not even the strongest can fight alone.

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the words hit him like a summer monsoon in el paso — sudden, warm, and life-altering. we can do this whenever we want? buck says it like a boy discovering a secret door in the house he’s lived in his whole life, truly astonished that it's been there the entire time. perhaps that's exactly what eddie is to him. and buck, to eddie. not a revelation, not a mistake. simply the truth. long-hidden and long-feared. his chest tightens, not with dread this time, but with a kind of aching awe — the terrifying possibility of joy. of permanence. he regards the curve of the other's grin like it’s a sunrise he’s forgotten how to prepare for, and for a split second all he can do is breathe around the way his heart stumbles forward.

the silence that ensues isn't heavy — it’s full. it hums. his fingers twitch as they're disentangled by buck, a tremulous sigh rasping up his chest as he's swept up into another kiss. it's as if his body is making decisions before his brain can catch up. that's until buck pulls away, their foreheads brushing as they hover impossibly close. “ yeah, ” he finally murmurs, quiet and hoarse, like the word has to claw its way past all the years he'd spent pretending he hadn't desired this. “ we can, ” simple, but that’s the thing about truth — it doesn’t need embellishment to set your bones on fire. he swallows thickly, throat tightening, gaze dropping to their re-joint hands. their hands. which isn't a dream anymore. he breathes calmly, because this time it doesn’t feel like a betrayal of everything he was taught to hide.

eddie shifts then, just slightly, enough to rest his forehead against buck's entirely. there’s a quake beneath his ribs, subtle but undeniable — tectonic plates rearranging themselves. dios mio, this shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. but it does. it does. and it’s not chaos nor destruction. it’s stillness and home. “ i'm gonna be honest, i don’t know how to do all of this right, buck, ” he murmurs, voice threadbare at the edges, “ but i know i want to. ” and that’s the first thing he's been sure of in the longest time.

He watches Eddie's eye flicker to his lips, and that's all the invitation he needs for this next kiss — and he finally does, eyes closed as their lips press together. This time, Buck cups the other's face with his hands, fingers digging back into his dark hair. Wow. That's all that crosses his mind, but he blames his heart pounding and his hands probably shaking. He still can't comprehend how he went so long without this. He'd kissed so many people, been with so many people, but it never felt like this — even a simple kiss made his arms and legs break out into goosebumps.

He eventually pulls back again, but not after he presses another two, three kisses to Eddie's lips — and when Buck sees him staring up at him, he breaks into a wide smile. “ That's how I feel too. I didn't know it was supposed to feel like this. ” Not very descriptive, but hopefully enough for Eddie. Even if it wasn't, he'd happily use every word the other man needed. Buck would do anything for him, he thinks. “ I didn't even think it could feel like this, to be honest. ”

He doesn't want to pull away from Eddie, he wants to stay here, with his eyes closed and their faces so, so close together. Buck thinks about kissing him again, but instead he breaks out into a grin. Eddie might not be able to see it, but he'll sure be able to hear it. “ I'm not dreaming, right? ” He tries to speak quietly, but fails miserably. He's just too excited. “ We can like, do this whenever we want? Not just a one time thing? ”

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he crosses the threshold with the quiet weight of a man who’s learned to navigate the aftermath, not just the emergency. her words brush off concern like ash from skin, but he sees through it — he’s worn the same mask in the mirror more times than he can count. the chaos of her apartment doesn't faze him; it reads like a living thing, a silent testament to the war she just walked out of. his eyes, yet dark and steady, rest on her with an ease that isn’t casual, but more so deliberate — as if anchoring her to the present with nothing more than presence. “ yeah, ” he states with a nod, he doesn't avert his gaze, he doesn't flinch from the truth beneath her bravado. “ i am. ” there’s a beat where his throat works around unspoken words, then he softens, eddie's voice low and firm like a rope tossed to a drowning hand. “ nah come on, doesn't matter if they taught you or not. you held it together. that’s more than most could do. ” he steps in closer, the air between them thick with unuttered understanding, battle-worn and wordless. “ you don’t owe me anything, technically, i was just doing my job. but... maybe let me take out the trash before it walks itself out? ” the faintest curve of a wry smile ghosts across relatively upturned lips, but his gaze doesn't stray from hers — for he's not merely checking up, he's bearing witness.

❝ are you checking up on me? ❞ belinda steps aside, allowing space for eddie to walk in the open door. her place is a bit of a mess. scrubs draped over the back of a chair, takeaway boxes littering the kitchen counter, and mail piled up on the coffee table. it's kind of hard to clean up with only one good arm. ❝ i'm fine. honestly. ❞ except that her arm is still in a cast, and there are new burn scars that are still healing, and bruises cover too much of her skin, and every time she tries to sleep she sees the face of the man who tried, and thankfully failed, to end her life. ❝ but i guess i do owe you a thank you. funnily enough they don't teach you how to defuse a grenade at nursing school. ❞ @ezburns

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listen up cutie patootie, i don’t know eddie diaz from his show — and i don’t need to. lj made me fall in love with this silly firefighter. lj, you give him so much depth. so much emotional and heartthrob. you let him grow throughout your threads. his development is never static, but always dynamic — always moving and developing further, whether that’s a hundred headcanons or a crazy developed verse. i love you, thank you for letting me fall in love with firefighter eddie diaz.

crying out here over portrayal inbox things.

my sweet ida. thank you. you seeing these things in my eddie makes me want to bawl. i love him but i love you more. i love your dedication and commitment to every single muse you take on. this is legit me at every single one of them — cause you develop everyone so distinctly. and just so beautifully them but also with your grace and gorgeous writing bringing them to life in ways that we don't get to see. i am so lucky to share a world and dash with you in it. thank you for listening to me rave about my silly little firefighter. thank you for sharing your ideas and your muses with me. thank you for always being there and being one of my best friends. your opinion means the world ♡ i love you most girlfriend ♡

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such lovely lovely portrayal! for a character who i have seen around a lot ( on the internet / tv etc. you get it ) there is something so fresh and tender and caring in the way you really explore eddie's character and sink into the odds and ends of him. it makes me want to follow along everything you write because it is so insightful and interesting. but you also have such an openness to writing him across from so many other scenarios and arcs and characters that can be so far from his canon and that also just gives him such a dynamic feel - you really manage to place him where you want and still give him room to breathe in your writing so he stands wonderfully on his own no matter which verse or version of the world he is in. just gorgeous, not to mention your writing on its own already is so anyway!! but it all complements each other so well to form a full picture. 🤍

crying out here over portrayal inbox things.

vic. oh my dear vic. you are so impossibly kind and sweet and i can't imagine any dash without you in it ever. this is the sweetest thing in the whole world. this truly hits so hard because that's exactly what i try to do with him — my favorite thing is writing him in situations and verses so removed from 9-1-1 because that's what helps me develop him the most i think. hearing that i'm accomplishing that? squeezing you so tight. so help me god, this is me at every single muse you get your beautiful hands on. everything you touch turns to gold. i adore you and all of our perfect and beautiful dynamics across blogs ♡ ugh i can't wait to continue developing marianne and eddie, and anyone and eddie. you already know how i feel about our multi babies. thank you for doing this silly hobby with me, ilu!

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“You’re always dying”