one thing i absolutely love about eddie is the fact that he is always on the lookout for ways to sacrifice himself for the people he loves. girlfriend pregnant? i'll provide for her by risking my life in the military. twice. without asking first. my traumatised son is scared that my job is too dangerous? i will transfer to another one that makes me deeply miserable. also without asking first. can't seem to fall in love with my new girlfriend even though my kid loves her? guess i'll just stick it out. my parents hate my wife even after her death? i will push down every bit of anger i ever felt at her and defend her like a rabid dog. hell, i will romanticise that relationship so bad that I literally cannot move on from her and am haunted by her ghost in both a metaphorical and literal way for years to come. and when, as the crowning result of all my disregard for my personal well-being and healing, my kid has run to texas, and now he does not seem to want to come home? i will bear every bit of pain and embarrassment his obvious disdain and my parents' flagrant disinterest in letting us heal from this causes me, and if that doesn't work, i will upend my entire life, forsake every bit of progress I have ever made, and come crawling back to the city i grew up in. without asking first, of course.
eddie diaz will see a cross, ask "is anyone going to die on that thing?" and then not wait for an answer
The terrifying thing about Hen and Chim's dynamic for S8 is that they've always been beside each other. Everything in their lives is intertwined, and they rarely keep secrets. But how do you tell your best friend you're jealous of the time he's spending with your daughter? How do you tell him that their bonding is breaking your heart? When he says he has two kids at home, you feel your place as her mother slipping away? And you know she's safe, loved, and cared for, and that's all that should matter. But you're missing out on these important moments, how what she likes is changing and what she enjoys is evolving. Sure, you guys have family dinners, but there's so much of her day that you're missing. So much of that time that's spent away from her. Because you're fighting tooth and nail to put your family back together, and he gets to just...enjoy it.
What are the chances that Eddie (and Shannon) buried some kind of time capsule or little box in Eddie's parents backyard when they graduated high school. Maybe they were a little drunk from a party on graduation night and decided to bury something that they'd dig up before their 10 year reunion because that seemed like a lifetime away. Maybe that was the last thing they did together before Shannon found out she was pregnant.
What are the chances that the crew who digs out the hole for the pool Helena wants to build for Chris find it and suddenly Chris can't hide from his dad or the ghost of his mom anymore. There they are in silly little photo booth photos from prom. In a yearbook with signatures and silly little notes from their friends. In a handwritten note from both of them to their older selves talking about where they hope to be in 10 years. In a a baseball from his dad's final game. In a copy of his mom's favourite book.
What are the chances Chris comes face-to-face with the fact that his parents were people not much older than he was before he was born. When you're a kid your patents seem like giants - like they know everything. But maybe Chris is forced to confront the fact that they were only 5 years older than he his now when they had him. Maybe Chris realizes that his parents were perfect, but that's okay because no one is. Maybe Chris realizes that he can never get time with his mom, but his dad is still here and he doesn't want to lose more time with him.
sue me im rewatching 7.04 but i can't express how much i love the truly insane bit of dialogue between buck and maddie where maddie, normal, asks buck if it was really that chris wouldn't stop talking about tommy, or if it was just that buck kept pressing chris for intel, and buck, unwell, objects that he actually didn't have to press chris for info at all because eddie's out here blasting his infatuation with tommy on display via (1) entry on a fridge calendar (that may or may not have been hidden under a takeout menu) that he's even had the indecency to circle, like a whore
When Evan was eight he jumped out of a tree. He landed hard, arm caught beneath him, and earned himself a broken wrist.
When Maddie asked what he had been doing, he said he'd thought the branch of a nearby tree was close enough to reach.
She drove him to the hospital on her learner's permit, even though Evan knew she wasn't supposed to drive without an adult, because both their parents were at work.
The doctor gave him a bright blue cast, and Maddie signed it in big blocky letters. She told him that's what you were supposed to do when someone had a cast, that it meant you were thinking of them and hoping they'd get better.
Their parents freaked out when they called him down for dinner and saw it. They fussed over him, and piled his plate high with food, and kept asking if he needed help. They didn't sign his cast.
For almost a whole week, they played with him, and talked to him, and took him out for icecream, like they did on the days he scraped his knees badly.
Evan soaked up the attention, little enough that a week was a long time. Long enough to convince him this was how it was now, that his plan had worked.
It hadn't, of course. His parents' worry fizzled out again, and things went back to normal.
Still, he kept trying, sure that if he got hurt just a little bit more next time, then his parents care would be permanent.
day 5: drunk caretaking/concussed caretaking/feverish caretaking
Word count: 607
"I think someone broke in," Eddie mumbles.
Buck spins from where he had been digging in Eddie's drawers, alarm written across his face as he scanned the room. "What? Why?"
"I didn't..." Eddie starts, trailing off as Buck stalks over to where Eddie sits at the foot of his bed.
When he doesn't continue, Buck grips his shoulder gently. He's always so gentle. "Eddie?"
"I didn't leave my room blurry when I left," he confides, eyes drifting loosely from place to place.
"Oh," Buck exhales, with a tiny laugh threaded through.
"You should call Athena," Eddie suggests.
"I will, don't worry," Buck assures him, and Eddie doesn't know why he sounds amused, but if Buck says not to worry then he won't. "But first, you should get ready for bed. Do you need a painkiller?"
It takes a moment longer than it probably should for Eddie to remember why he'd need a painkiller, and his head throbs viciously at the indignity of being forgotten.
He grimaces, and Buck nods like Eddie has answered. "I'll be right back."
Then he disappears from Eddie's line of sight. He closes his eyes, content to wait for whatever Buck is doing.
Drawers open and shut behind him, and Eddie blinks his eyes open when a hand softly lands on his shoulder again.
"Change into these while I get your meds," Buck says. He places a change of clothes in his lap, and Eddie brings his hands up to feel the soft fabric.
"I'll be right back," Buck repeats, and waits for Eddie to nod before he leaves the room.
By the time Eddie has struggled out of his uniform and into the sweatpants, Buck returns with a glass of water and a little orange pill bottle in his hands. He places both on Eddie's nightstand while Eddie pulls the hoodie over his head.
Perhaps that's too ambitious a move while his brain still feels like it's been shoved in a barrel and rolled down a hill.
He sways a little, and two warm hands land on his waist.
"Easy," Buck murmurs.
He lets Buck fuss with the hoodie, and curls his fingers tightly in the fabric of Buck's shirt. Tells himself it's to keep steady.
The hoodie is big on him, and he knows without looking it says Buckley on the back.
Buck guides him onto the mattress and pulls the duvet over him. The pillbottle rattles as he shakes one out, and Eddie grimaces, but swallows obediently. He lets Buck take the cold glass from his hand, lets him push Eddie down again, but when Buck tries to rise from his perch at the edge of the bed, Eddie wraps his fingers around Buck's wrist.
He doesn’t pull him down, doesn't think he'd have the strength right now anyway, but Buck doesn't make him. He sits down again, always so willing to give, even when Eddie can't make himself ask.
Fingers still around Buck's wrist, Eddie wonders if he can get away with blaming the concussion if he moves them up to twine with Buck's.
Maybe he stares too long at Buck's open palm, or maybe Buck is simply that attuned to Eddie's thoughts, but whatever the reason, Buck slides his hand down to tangle with Eddie's, his thumb stroking warm paths back and forth over Eddie's skin.
"Get some rest," Buck says, and Eddie would much rather stay awake to feel Buck hold his hand, but he can already feel his eyes drooping shut.
"You're the one who's going to be waking me up every hour," Eddie mutters.
Buck huffs, but his touch stays soft. "Go to sleep, Eddie."
He'd pretend as a kid, snuggle into Maddie's side and let her fuss over him for the night. She'd drag chairs in from the dining table, ignoring their parents' disapproving looks, and they would build a fort on the floor of her bedroom.
The combined pillows and blankets from both their rooms were never enough to make their nest on the ground all that comfortable, but Buck always thought those nights were the warmest he could remember.
Now, Buck pulls the duvet over his head, burrowing further into what little heat he's managed to procure. Thunder rattles the windows, and Buck shudders. Fragments flash in his mind, of freezing rain, of alright, cowboy, go get 'em, of waking up, disoriented and heavy, and seeing his parents in his hospital room looking awkward and out of place, with a discordant burst of confusion.
Sometimes, Buck thinks the rain from that night never dried off, that it simply sunk into him and left him a bonedeep chill he'll never be rid off.
His teeth clack as a shiver wracks through him, and he startles when the bed dips under a new weight.
"Oh, Evan."
Buck peers out from beneath the covers, and Maddie gives him a sad smile when their eyes meet.
"Maddie," Buck says, asks, pleads.
She lifts the covers just enough to slip under, and the cold rush of air quickly gets chased away by her warmth. Buck folds into her with a sigh, hiding his face in her neck like he used to when he was little.
"What are you doing here?" Buck mumbles.
He feels Maddie shrug, her hand tightening in his hair. "It's storming."
It's almost enough to make Buck turn the car around, speed back to the hospital and insist that their quick diagnosis of mild hypothermia and a scattering of bruises must be wrong.
Throwing glances at the silhuette in the passengerseat, unmoving but for the trembling, does nothing to ease pit in his chest. It does nothing for the ache in his throat or the stinging in his palms, physical manifestations of the way his entire being had revolted against the idea of losing Eddie.
It plays in his mind in an endless loop; the deafening crack of thunder, the quaking of the earth. Already being on his knees, frantically clawing at the ground when the realization sunk in. The pit cracking open in his chest when Bobby dragged him away, growing wider with every pitying look and victim-voice.
When he pulls the car to a stop in Eddie's driveway, Buck is shaking too.
The darkened house sits before them, and Buck spares a moment to be grateful Chris is at Pepa's tonight. He spares another to hope, plead, pray that he didn't watch the news earlier.
Buck startles when Eddie gets out of the car without a word, moving of his own volition for the first time since he stumbled into their clearing, soaked and dirty and exhausted, but alive.
The leather of the steering wheel digs into the scrapes in his palms when he flexes his hands, and Buck takes a deep breath. Then heads inside.
Eddie stands in the middle of the livingroom, looking lost and out of place, like he'd walked into a stranger's home and only realized halfway through. He turns when Buck enters, and in the glow of the ceiling lamp Buck finally notices how absolutely filthy he is.
Bobby had brought clean clothes for him to change into at the hospital, but it does nothing to hide the layer of dirt on his skin, broken in streaks on his face by the drops falling from his still wet hair.
"You can't sleep like this," Buck sighs. Eddie looks like he wants nothing more than to pass out till noon tomorrow, but Buck knows he'll hate himself in the morning if he goes to bed like this.
Eddie nods a little, but a helpless glint blooms in his tired eyes. "I don't think I can..." he trails off, and Buck sees the way he's leaning more and more against the back of the couch.
"I'll help you," Buck says, because he thinks he'll do just about anything for Eddie right now, for the simple reason that he's alive to ask for it. Eddie hesitates, and Buck backtracks. "Or, I mean, I can. If you're— if you want me to."
day 31 — bonus day :) write whatever you feel like writing today or have a nice day of rest
AuguSnippets is an event that encourages the short and sweet of the whump genre. Ideally, your drabbles would be under 500 or even under 100 words, maybe even just a dialogue prompt. This, however, does not mean I won't reblog longer prompt fills! Don't stress too much on that limit. I just think it's sometimes nice to challenge yourself to write shorter drabbles, and it can also work as a very good exercise to write daily or semi-daily, and it doesn't need a lot of prep.
As for tagging your work, please use the appropriate trigger warnings. This is so everyone can stay safe and avoid potentially triggering topics while participating. Also, if your work is nsfw, please don't forget to tag it as mature content! If your work is not tagged properly, I won't be able to reblog it! Thank you!
Our special tag will be "#augusnippets day [x]". On the first day that would be "#augusnippets day 1". This is so I and others can find your work easier! You can also tag the blog, that's an even more surefire way to get me to notice your prompt fill :)
Is this a writing only event?
Yeah, this one is exclusively writing focused.
Do I have to use the special tag or tag this blog?
Not if you don't want to get featured on this blog :) It's just so I can find your work easier and reblog it here! If that's not something you're interested in, just scribble away without it.
Is the "under 500" a hard limit for the word count?
No, but I encourage everyone to try and keep to it in the spirit of this event.
Can I submit nsfw works?
Yes! Just please tag it properly :)
Can I mix and match the prompts from different paths?
Yes! Have fun!
What do I need to do to get the completionist badge?
Either you need to complete one whole path, or complete 10 prompt fills altogether while mixing and matching. Those who complete all 30 days (and maybe even the bonus day) will get something extra special!
Can I write fandom related things?
Yes! This event is both for original characters and fandom related writing.
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
jacobvanloon
turnnoffyourmind
kaledo-art
stormborns
ellievsbear
