If It Makes You Feel Better I Don’t Watch The Show Either And I Think Of Buddie As Your Ocs So Whatever

Hot priest: „YOURE GAY!“

How’s that

Binge watched all of s2-s8A in preparation for tonight's episode. Hoping for the hot priest to come back and be even more blunt with Eddie

This is what I’m SAYING. It’s history happening right before our eyes, and for once, that is a good thing.

like obviously i am emotionally invested in buddie going canon from like, a character/story perspective but from a 'got a degree in sociology, has been on tumblr since 2012, was once a superwholocker' perspective, i am FAR more invested this shit is delightful and fASCINATING. despite all the shit in the world, despite the backlash towards LGBTQ people happening right now, there is a major network television show that already made one half of a m/m fan ship canonically bi, had him fuck a (different) man, and is now poised to make the pairing canon after more than SEVEN SEASONS OF SLOWBURN. like: they are a pairing that started as a classic wink-nudge jokey queerbait, possibly nearly went canon years ago before that was shutdown, but now it is HAPPENING. and no, i'm not here for arguments that it isn't. i know better than is good for me, what queerbaiting looks like, and it DOES NOT LOOK LIKE THIS. i have been in like 15 different shipwars for queerbaited pairings. I am that fan who once went up to the showrunner of OUAT in a restaurant to tell him, personally, to his face, that queer fans like me deserved better. and now, eight years after that incident, the queer fans of an ABC tv show might just be getting that 'better'. like. what the fuck. how did we get here?

this is a phenomenon that has literally never happened once on live action american television, and we are all watching it unfold, whether actively or via the persistent ubiquity of fandom osmosis and i am studying this show and TPTB and the actors and the fans like BUGS

Did you think I'd just stick with ONE fandom?? THINK AGAIN!

but not with the gun…

caitlyn hit her HARD

Eddie isn't sure what he's expecting when Buck meets him at the airport. Red-rimmed eyes, splotchy face, hunched shoulders probably. Not this. Distant eyes, blank face, straight-backed. He'd been braced to catch Buck as soon as he landed, had spent his whole flight locking every bit of his own grief away to be thought about at a later date, let the guilt pool in his chest instead.

I should've been there, I could've -

He'd been ready to catch Buck, but it's Eddie who falls into Buck's waiting arms. Eddie who tears up. Eddie who clutches at the back of Buck's shirt like a scared child. And it's Buck sweeping his hands up and down Eddie's back, holding him together, murmuring:

"It's okay. I've got you. It's not your fault."

Eddie doesn't cry in LAX. His grief is a private thing. Always has been. He locks it into his bedroom and lets it out behind closed doors. But Buck is the safest space he's ever had, so he lets himself break a little. Lets himself shake apart under Buck's hands until he can ground himself with a deep breath at the junction of Buck's neck and shoulder. Until he can stand on his own.

Buck looks at him, eyes searching, deepest of furrows between his brows, so devastatingly gentle. And Eddie kind of wants to fucking scream at him for being okay. He'd needed to take care of Buck. He'd needed to have something to do. But now Buck is looking at him like he can fix him, and Eddie wants him to. So badly. But Buck knows Eddie's grief is for South Bedford Street, not LAX, so all he does is lead Eddie out to the parking lot.

It's a silent drive. Buck tells him the details of the funeral. Clinical. Sparing. And Eddie watches Buck's knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. Listens to the creak of leather under an unyielding grip. And he sees it then. The countdown over Buck's head, ticking away steadily. He's grateful in a way.

They pull up to the house silently. The engine falls quiet. And they stare at the door. The door Bobby had appeared on the other side of just a few months ago for a goodbye dinner. At the house. The house Bobby made coffee in when Eddie couldn't stomach being alone. At the home. The home Bobby helped him build in every way.

Buck gets out of the car. Eddie follows. Buck unlocks the door. Eddie locks it behind them. Buck disappears into the kitchen. Eddie pauses.

Can't quite separate Bobby from kitchens in his mind. And it's not like Bobby ever cooked anything in Eddie's kitchen, but there's some stupid grief-crazed part of his brain that thinks he'll find Bobby at the stove for a last supper. A parting gift to Eddie. Because Bobby was always too good. Too generous. Too understanding. When it came to Eddie.

When he finally makes it in there, Buck is stood staring into the fridge. Vacant. Eddie joins him, presses their shoulders together as hard as he can without knocking Buck away, and looks at Buck's fingers curled loosely around two beer bottles. Eddie knows it's not the early hour staying his hand.

It feels wrong. To find comfort in alcohol at Bobby's expense.

Carefully, Eddie unpicks Buck's fingers from the bottles and watches as Buck's arm falls limp to his side with such weight it bounces off his hip. Swings once, twice, stops suddenly. Eddie grabs the water filter. Closes the fridge.

"Sit down," he whispers. Sure, steady.

Buck sits down.

Eddie grabs two glasses. Fills them with water. Leaves the filter on the side. Who cares? Who fucking cares? Takes the glasses over to the table in shaking hands. Spills only a little. Sits opposite Buck. Stares into his cup.

"I didn't say it back," Buck rasps eventually.

Eddie picks his head up with great effort. Ony manages it because he wants to see what hurt he's caused. Their missing medic. Absent in their hour of need.

"What?"

"B-he-he told me he loved me." Buck's eyes go wide. Horrified. Haunted. Hollow. "He t-told me he l-loved me, and I could-couldn't say it back be-because that would mean..." Buck chokes a sob into his hand. "I thought we'd fix it. I-I-I thought we'd find a way. We-we always do. I couldn't say it-it. I didn't want t-to let him go. And now, he's..." Buck's face crumples first. Then, the rest of his body follows, folding in on itself in the chair until he looks almost as small as Christopher had the first time he'd ever sat at this table. "He's d-gone, and he doesn't know I love him."

"He knows, Buck." Eddie's hand curls into a fist on the tabletop. Doesn't know what to do. For all he'd been ready to hold Buck together, he's not sure how. "He knows you love him, Buck. You told him every single day."

"But I never said the words!" he snaps. Pure rage. Pure guilt. He looks up at Eddie. Blue eyes wet and red and wild. The rage and the guilt seeps away, leaves only pure grief. "I never said the words."

He sobs then. Doesn't choke it down. Lets it out. Eddie reacts like it's instinct even though he's never done this before. Just somehow knows in his bones what to do when it comes to Buck.

He stands, rounds the table, slides a hand into Buck's hair, one on his shoulder, pulls Buck's face into his stomach and holds him there, holds him together. Buck's fingers tangle themselves in Eddie's belt loops. A lifeline. And Eddie holds him tight as he can.

"All the times you cooked for him. All the times he cooked for you. The two of you cooking together. You had your own language, Buck. He knows you love him."

And all Eddie hears is: you're gonna stand there with a hundred-something bodies on you and tell me I'm not fit for duty. Did Bobby know Eddie loved him too?

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Eddie drops his cheek to the top of Buck's head. Stops holding Buck together and starts holding on. Buck's hands grasp at his hips, twist into the back of his shirt just like Eddie's had at the airport.

And all Eddie hears is: I just want to make sure you don't think you have to lose everything before you can allow yourself to feel anything.

Oh my fucking god i just watched the episode „Wilson“ for the first time and holy fuck this is my new favourite episode ever. I could watch an entire show about Wilson being his silly little self im not even kidding.

Just,,, imagine a show about our over-caring oncologist just doing his job, (and doing it incredibly might i add,) with this random crazy-ass best friend somwhere in the background. I could watch a hundred and ten seasons of it I‘m not even kidding. That fucked up crazy little oncologist right there? That’s my babygirl. That’s my pookie. That is my kin. Give him the world pls and thank you

Like I feel like we as a fandom gloss over the fact how great Wilson really is at his job. My man realised a patient got a brain tumor because he didn’t want to talk about his grandkids. Like??? All the while being extremely focused on a different case of his, and handling all his other ones as well.

House always makes fun of him for it, but he really is an amazing doctor, all the while being such a calm and comforting presence… no wonder all his patients love him!!

He’s like a big walking-talking teddy bear handing out cancer diagnoses!

Need a 911 fic where Buck hits his head and is disoriented and confused when he wakes up. He thinks him and Eddie are dating.

Not because he has an amnesia or anything, but because Ravi was the one helping jog his memory and nothing Ravi knows about the 118 is right.

Matt: *does stupid shit*

Foggy:

redrew a mattfoggy scene bc of the daredevil brainrot wdym born again's day after tomorrow (my friend said this looked like a meme so. made it one)

With a Little Help from My Friends

Eddie's in El Paso trying to rekindle old friendships along with his relationship with Christopher. Some things may, or may not, be better left in the past.

Or; Eddie meets up with a friend from high school who provides him with some helpful insight into their past friendship as well as a new lens to view his current ones through.

Word count - 1.4k

Read on Ao3.