#then some buddie ofc

[watmalik]

WHY AO3 WHY???! WE HAD A DEAL!

[eromrevencrow]

Okay okay. Some are saying that iwtv is not about being in love with the monster, but the horror of the monster being in love with you, which I think it's too simple since it's more about 'the monster loves me, but what if I am a monster too? What if the monster is actually a mirror of everything I don't love about myself and the beauty of learning to love all this monstrous things about me, in you?'

[mourn-and-watch]

the way cole makes varric conflicted is so delicious i think. most of the characters are uncomfortable around him because they're genuinely terrified of demons and the fade and magic in general but varric is a completely different case. the thing is, he doesn't see cole as a demon at all because he doesn't want to.

he acts like he doesn't care about this stuff. that's a little weird kiddo around here and he wants to befriend him. teach him something even. why not. that's a little guy who's a little too good with knives and can't pick up a single social clue at the same time.

but there it is. the "he could have been a person" line if cole is made more spirit. varric is so upset about it because it's not like he saw cole as, well, a spirit who got a little too human. for varric, he was a human first, a weird kid second. the spirit part didn't even come into consideration because. well. it would make him question things. you know where it goes.

every time he starts bitching about anders he brings up justice. justice drove him mad. justice took over him. justice this, justice that. justice is a scapegoat because the thought that someone varric was friends with was actually willing to blow up the chantry and it wasn't just some evil demon's wish is a very unsettling one. varric's friends may be crazy but they're cool and make no irreversible life decisions of that extent, don't they? blondie turned out this way because he let a demon possess him and make him do terrible things. completely out of the blue.

it's either varric's ex-friend has never been driven crazy by some inherently evil entity and there was a whole other person around him all along and that anger he used to mock was coming from the same place as compassion's urge to become a killer or that little weird but kind kid he started to care about has never been and will never be a real kid. he can't have both. a bitter pill to swallow for someone who has never picked a side in his life

[sparrowchute]

Hey guys do we fuck with unfinished messy sketches on tumblr dot com

[bugboybuck]

i will truly never stop being baffled by the Confidence some ppl have that eddie is gonna come out as gay in s8 when his entire s7 storyline was abt fucking one woman and being in love with another woman like . it would be an absolutely ridiculous plot to 99% of the audience to end s7 with him calling shannon the love of his life while dating her doppleganger while also having horny on-screen sex with his gf to 'i'm not into women actually' the next season . he was just into THREE women in the space of ten episodes

[henwilsonmd]

post 6x18: some out-of-order vignettes | ao3

4251 words

“Buck,” said Eddie, trying to school his face into something less fond and amused. “That’s my couch.”

Buck turned from where he’d been happily showing off the new piece of furniture he’d gotten with Natalia the day prior. “What?”

“The couch,” Eddie repeated, with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You bought my exact couch.”

“No,” Buck replied with a shake of his head. “No, it’s definitely different.”

read on ao3

Eddie looked at it—a three-seater in dark blue, velvet-y fabric with square corners and deep seats to accommodate his long legs. They’d picked out some nice white decorative pillows for it, and it’s certainly brand-new looking, but—

“It’s totally the same.” Eddie gave up on hiding his smile.

Buck looked back to the couch, tilting his head to scrutinize it. After a moment, he sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Ah, fuck. It’s totally the same.”

Eddie groaned, letting his head thump back onto the edge of the cot behind him. “The pain meds are definitely kicking in.”

“Well, good,” snarked Buck from a chair next to him, attention half-focused on his phone in his hands. “That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Eddie sighed, long-suffering. “You too?”

“Yes, Eddie, me too.” Buck replied, thumbs flying as he tapped out something on the screen in his hands. Probably to Maddie. Probably about Chim. Who was probably okay. “Your ribs are fucking broken.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, staring at the ceiling. “And I know what they feel like. I’m fine, there was—other stuff going on.” He thought about that paramedic from the 133 shining a penlight into Hen’s eyes, frowning like he didn’t like the results and going back in to do it again. He thought about the constant jitter of Buck’s leg next to him, the constant worry for Bobby and Chimney who’d taken the other two ambulances before the three of them had managed to squeeze into another cab. “Besides,” Eddie pulled himself back on track. “Did you even get checked out?” He leveled Buck with a look that he hoped had more energy behind it than he had left.

Buck shrugged, powering off his phone with a click. “I’m fine.”

“There’s blood all over your face,” Eddie pointed out.

“Hen cleaned most of it up already.”

“There was more?”

“That’s—Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck said, turning towards him. “I scraped up my cheek and bit my tongue when I fell, and, sure, I’ll be a little bruised, but I’m fine.”

“You lost consciousness,” Eddie pointed out, and he swallowed around a dry throat.

“How… how did you know that?” Buck stuttered in reply.

Eddie gave his own shrug, picking at the edge of the right kneepad on his turnout pants. “I didn’t pass out. I radioed right after I’d gotten my bearings, but no one answered. Then, like, thirty seconds later you must have woken up.”

Buck, for a moment, held Eddie’s gaze with something so unbelievably devastated, and guilty—like the thought of not being able to answer Eddie’s call was the worst possible thing that had happened that day. Then he flicked his eyes down to the floor. “Okay, s-so, like, thirty seconds. I’m fine, Eddie. Really.”

Eddie frowned, thinking about those thirty seconds—an unbearable weight on his back, a growing pain in his chest, and the clawing panic as he listened to the silence stretching out on the other side of the radio and fought the mounting urge to plead, I’m still alive, please, I’m still alive down here.

And then how he’d breathed a hugely painful sigh of relief when Buck finally asked for a headcount, how he’d fumbled into his pocket for his St. Christopher medal and prayed—something he hadn’t done since that awful week of the coma. Prayed that he’d come home safe to his son, but also that Buck would be careful—that he wouldn’t do something stupid and destructive and reckless to save any of them.

That heady rush of gratitude when Buck had sawed the doors open, taking off his safety goggles and assessing Eddie’s situation with a calculating, heavy gaze.

Next to him, Buck cleared his throat, shifting in the chair. “Anyway, you broke three ribs, man. Let the meds do their job.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, leaning back into the pillows behind him. “Trust me, they are.”

Eddie sipped his Diet Coke, beer off-limits because he was still taking the Tylenol threes. “So, you finally got a new couch.”

“I had a couch before,” Buck pointed out, a matching soda in his hand for solidarity. “Kameron just—y’know, gave birth all over it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, snorting a soft laugh. “That must have been wild.”

Buck chuckled. “The baby didn’t want to wait, I guess.”

“Impatient little guy,” Eddie said. “Must be those Buckley genes.”

“Hey,” Buck protested, pointing a finger. “I can be plenty patient.”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed placatingly, but be noticed how there seemed to be something more behind the mirth in Buck’s eyes—the plastic pieces at the edges of his smile. He fought the urge to say I told you so—mostly because it would have been childish, but also because Buck hadn’t asked for his opinion at any step of the way, and Eddie hadn’t offered.

Eddie decided to wait him out—usually the best course of action when it came to Buck. Eddie understood intimately how much time it could take to parse through a mess of feelings in your brain and formulate them into words that would make sense to another person. Usually, Eddie would sit quietly and sip his beer while watching Buck’s feelings play out on his unguarded face, and after a minute or two Buck would haltingly begin to explain what had been going on with him.

Eddie had tried to explain that to Maddie when they’d both been nearly sick with worry over Buck’s post-coma mental state. “He’ll come to you when he’s ready,” Eddie had said over the phone. “You can’t force him to talk about it.”

“Eddie, you don’t know him like I do,” Maddie had protested. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

And Eddie had opened his mouth to say no, actually, I know him better than you, I know him better than anyone, but—that’s not true, is it? Why would Eddie know Buck better than his own sister, who’s spent the entire thirty years of his life caring for him, when Eddie’s only had him for—what, five years? Then subtract all the things they didn’t talk to each other about and all the issues they’ve had, and—yeah, who is Eddie to say what’s best for Buck?

And then Buck had knocked on his door and passed out on his couch and Eddie had felt righteously vindicated in a way that he almost wanted to rub in Maddie’s face, which was kind of bitchy of him to think.

So, Buck sipped his soda next to Eddie on his new couch, a storm of emotions clear on his face, and Eddie waited him out because that’s what he does.

Buck let out a sigh, and Eddie thought, here it is, he’ll let me in, and then— “Want to watch the Dodgers game?”

Eddie blinked. “Um, sure.”

And Buck turned on the TV.

Doubt roiled in Eddie’s gut.

“What about Hen?” Eddie asked, Buck’s hand tight on his arm as he helped him into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“Karen already took her home, she’s fine,” Buck replied easily, before he shut the door and rounded the front of the car.

He’d left when Eddie had been taken back for x-rays, taking an Uber back to the station to pick up his car so he could come back to get Eddie and drive them both home. Eddie absently wondered when he would get a chance to get his truck from the station parking lot.

Buck hopped into the driver’s seat, fitting his keys in the ignition but pausing before turning the engine. He fixed Eddie with a gentle, reassuring look. “Seriously, man, everyone’s fine. Athena’s with Bobby, Maddie’s with Chim, let’s go home.”

Eddie swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought about just how close literally every single one of them except Ravi had come to something far more serious than some hospital bills and time off work.

His gaze slid to Buck, who flashed him that small, soft, close-mouthed smile that Eddie rarely saw—the one that made his chest feel warm and gooey.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

The Dodgers were losing, and Buck wasn’t talking about it. Eddie tried not to either of those things get to him.

During a commercial break, Buck got up to throw their empty pizza boxes away, waving Eddie off as he moved to help.

When he came back into the living room, he paused under the overhang of the loft, just staring at Eddie.

“What?” he asked, a bit self-conscious.

Buck huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I bought your couch.”

Eddie snorted. “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s flattering. You think I have good taste.”

Buck raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if that’s it. Half the furniture in your house is from Target.”

Eddie sputtered. “I—what’s wrong with Target furniture?”

Buck, lowering himself back onto the cushions next to Eddie, raised his hands in a show of innocence. “Nothing, man. I just—I don’t know if I would call it good taste.”

Having no comeback, Eddie just whacked him in the shoulder.

Buck laughed, playfully pushing his hand away. “Hey, c’mon, don’t start shit when I can’t retaliate.”

Eddie smirked. “Why? ‘Cause you know you can’t take me?”

“No,” Buck denied. “’Cause your ribs are still fucking broken.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Buck.”

“Well.” Buck crossed his arms, turning back to the TV as the next inning started. “Forgive me for wanting to be careful.”

For a moment, Eddie considered saying hey, maybe we should talk about how I could’ve almost died again? But Buck clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about the big things, and Eddie didn’t really want to think about that yet either, so he settled for bumping their shoulders together.

Buck leaned right back into him, and neither of them moved apart—the comforting warmth of the contact buzzing in Eddie’s brain like the alcohol he wasn’t drinking.

Eddie smiled down at his hands. “You like my couch,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck groused, slouching into the cushions as they watched a batter swing and miss yet again. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Are you sure you’re both alright?” Carla asked, a worried hand hovering over his elbow. “I caught some of the collapse on the news.”

Eddie flashed her a smile before turning to pour two glasses of water—one for him and one for Buck, who was off in Christopher’s room. “We’re okay,” he said. “A little banged up, but the doctors said I should be back to work in six weeks or less.”

Carla narrowed her eyes. “You better take that full six weeks.”

Eddie set the Brita down and met her gaze. “I’m fine, Carla. Really.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “I just—I worry about you, Eddie. Okay? I know you’d rather I didn’t, but I can’t help it.”

Eddie ducked his head and smiled, a bit, filled with that familiar half-disbelief that people really do care about him. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but—I was lucky today. That nothing worse happened, that—that Buck was there to pull me out.”

Carla scoffed. “Of course he was. I don’t think luck had anything to do with that one.”

Eddie tried to fight the blush off his cheeks—he didn’t know what to do with that. Carla’s surety that Buck would save him come hell or high water. His own surety that Buck would be ripping open the doors of that camper van any second now.

When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything, Carla cleared her throat. “I should go. You up for a hug?”

“From you?” Eddie responded easily. “Always.”

Carla pulled him into a gentle-but-still-desperate embrace. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.” With a frown, she brought a hand up to ruffle the wilting mess on Eddie’s head. “Your dusty-ass hair. Take a shower, alright?”

Eddie laughed. “Alright, alright.”

“It’s a little early for a welcome back party, don’t you think?” Eddie said as Athena hugged him in greeting, Christopher heading off in search of the other kids.

“You and Bobby are headed back tomorrow,” Athena pointed out.

“Yeah, and Chimney’s not back for another two weeks.”

“And you best believe I’ll throw another party for him.”

Eddie laughed, before venturing further into the house to greet everyone else. His ribs had healed perfectly, barely a twinge when he’d thrown himself onto the couch in triumph yesterday. Which—speaking of, Eddie’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket and he was doing a very good job of ignoring that.

Or, he was, until a lull in conversation found him standing alone in the kitchen and pulling it out of his jeans. No texts. Which—of course, they’d agreed to go for coffee after his shift on Friday, why would she text him before that—but, still. Eddie was nervous. Sue him.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment while he debates if it’s too much of a desperate move to text Marisol before they even go on a date. Christopher would know.

“Who are you texting?” asked a voice, and Eddie fumbled to turn off his phone and shove it in his pocket before someone could see… what?

He looked up to see Buck smiling at his antics, a beer in hand.

“Oh, it’s you,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the counter.

Buck sidled over to join him, staring out the windows at the backyard where the party was in full swing. “Just me. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie replied, for some reason hoping desperately that Buck wouldn’t ask him about—

“So,” Buck nudged an elbow into his arm. “Who were you texting?”

—fuck. Eddie wasn’t sure why this felt like something he didn’t want to tell Buck, to whom he tells everything, but… they don’t really talk about their girlfriends? It was always, always awkward, and it always left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

But, Eddie’s excited about this. Marisol probably won’t be the one, or whatever, but—still. Eddie was excited that his brain was finally in a place where he could think about opening up his life to someone and it wouldn’t send him into a panic attack that landed him in the ER.

And Buck asked.

And Eddie’s not in the habit of saying no to him.

“Um,” he started. “Do you remember Marisol? From the—”

“—yeah, yeah!” Buck cut him off. “So, you were texting her?” He raised his eyebrows, a knowing glint in his gaze.

Eddie blushed. “Yeah, uh… we’re going on a date?” he said quietly, a pit of dread or something similar opening in his gut.

Buck was quiet for a moment, and Eddie risked a glance at his face. He just caught the edge of something shocked and maybe fearful in his expression before it cleared and was replaced by one of those huge, sunny smiles.

“Eddie!” Buck exclaimed. “That’s great! Oh my god, man, this is awesome,” he enthused, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and squeezing him close.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, still unsure why part of him felt sick with guilt.

“Hey, ever notice how we always start dating at the same time?”

“No, do we?” Eddie lied, thinking about how he’d agonized over making the call and kept telling himself Buck’s with Natalia now, you should do this.

Buck laughed again, before he jolted with surprise and turned to Eddie, excitedly slapping him on the arm. “Dude! We can go on double dates now!”

Eddie frowned. “We didn’t last time.”

Buck shrugged. “Well, you didn’t like Taylor, so I figured—”

“I liked Taylor,” Eddie protested.

Buck snorted. “Uh, no, you didn’t.”

Eddie tilted his head in a you-got-me face. “I kind of didn’t. I thought you didn’t notice.”

Buck dropped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders again, making Eddie huff out a breath. “Oh, Edmundo, I always notice.”

No you don’t, Eddie thought, and then he ignored that.

“But,” Buck continued, a hesitation in his voice. “You—you like Natalia, right?”

Eddie didn’t really know her at all, except for how excited she’d been about Buck’s death-that-didn’t-stick and how angry that had made him. “Yeah,” Eddie lied again. “She’s good for you. And she has good taste in couches.”

Buck laughed, relieved. “Good. So—we’ll do a double date, yeah? Me, you, Natalia, Marisol.”

Fuck, no. Eddie thought. That sounds awful.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie said instead. “That sounds great.”

Eddie was in the kitchen, pre-heating the oven to heat up some frozen chicken tenders because he didn’t have the energy to cook anything else when he felt little arms wrap gently around his midsection. It hurt his ribs, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to dislodge his son—not when these hugs were becoming rarer and rarer each day.

“Hey, kid,” Eddie said, turning in the hold and dropping a hand onto Christopher’s head. “What’s up?”

Eddie had already seen him, when he popped his head into Christopher’s room to find him sitting with Buck, a careful hand brushing the wounds on the man’s cheek. The sight had made something massive and unknowable bloom inside Eddie’s broken chest, threatening to choke him. He’d tamped it down and hugged Chris hello before heading off to shower, but apparently that hadn’t been enough.

Chris looked up, propping his chin on Eddie’s sternum. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, a tightness in his voice betraying him.

Eddie smiled. “Me too.” Even though it sparked the ache in his side into a bona-fide pain, Eddie leaned over to drop a kiss onto Christopher’s head—something he barely tolerates anymore. “Hey, the doctors said I’d be good as new in six weeks. Think you can deal with having me around all the time for that long?”

Chris laughed, bright and happy, and Eddie’s heart sang. “I’ll try,” he joked, and then something clouded passed over his face. “Buck’s okay, too, right? His face is bloody.”

“Oh, buddy,” Eddie sighed. Usually, he would kneel down to meet Christopher’s gaze, but he settled for easing himself into a chair and ignoring the concerned look Chris was giving him. “Buck’s totally fine, he just got scraped up a little bit. And today was pretty—pretty scary. For both of us.” He swallowed down the urge to berate himself for telling his kid he was scared, and it seemed to be the right move, because Chris nodded along with wide, careful eyes.

Eddie sighed again, settling his hands on his son’s shoulders. “But—tell you what. Buck’s gonna stay with us tonight, and he’s pretty bad at taking care of himself, right?” Chris giggled at that, and Eddie smiled in response. “So you and I are gonna have to be sneaky about taking care of him tonight, okay?”

Eddie expected Chris to give another sweet smile, and maybe to offer some comfort so earnest and childlike in its innocence that it made everything in the world feel right again, so he wasn’t quite sure to do when Chris burst out into loud, raucous laughter.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” he said, playing at being annoyed.

“It’s just,” Chris managed through his massive smile. “That’s exactly what Buck said. About you!”

Eddie just blinked in response, and Chris fell into peals of laughter again. “Okay,” Eddie said with mock-offense. “Okay, I see how it is. Gang up on the injured guy, why don’t you.”

“Da-ad,” Chris whined, fixing him with a very grown-up look. “We just care about you.”

Eddie pursed his lips, that unknown emotion threatening to drown him again. “Yeah,” he said, more choked-up than he would like. “I know.”

A small hand covered his, and Eddie flipped his own over to give it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go put on the next episode of María, okay? We’ll translate for Buck.”

Chris smirked. “You mean you’ll translate for Buck.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Eddie offered as Chris disappeared into the living room.

And later, when they were all piled on the couch, Christopher giggling at Eddie’s half-assed translations and Buck protesting that he understands more Spanish than you think, guys, the newest dose of pain meds forced upon him by Buck making his head more than a bit fuzzy, Eddie thought to himself: I wish it could be like this forever.

Buck shouted in exaggerated outrage to make Chris laugh, gesturing at some ridiculous plot point playing out on the screen, and Eddie let that huge wave of feeling bowl him over—that world-ending, all-consuming love.

Just this. Forever.

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Hen said, a hand raised to keep Eddie quiet. “He has this whole thing about his girlfriends being couches, and the couch he finally bought is your couch?”

Feeling somehow embarrassed, Eddie just nodded. Hen shared a smirk with Chimney, sitting on the lawn chair that Maddie hadn’t let him move from for the entire party.

“That’s like—almost romantic,” Chimney snorted.

“What?” Eddie said.

“He’s been looking for the perfect couch, but it was yours all along!” Chim crowed, and Hen dissolved into giggles. She was definitely more than a little drunk.

“It’s so sweet, Eddie, come on,” she needled.

“Well, sure, but—” Eddie sputtered. “—romantic? Come on, guys.”

“No, you—you come on.” Hen said around a hiccup. “You guys are—Buck and Eddie! Eddie and Buck!”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied with a frown. “And you guys are Hen and Chim.”

“Nah, no, no, no,” Chim said with a wagging finger. “It’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?” Eddie threw his hands in the air, one hampered by the half-full bottle in his hand. “You guys are partners, just like us.”

“Yeah, but,” Hen said. “You guys are partners,” she explained, trying for some hand gesture that must have gotten lost in the all the alcohol and rush of the party because she just ended up clasping her hands together awkwardly.

“You guys are crazy,” Eddie said with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“And you’re crazy about Buck,” Hen said in an it’s-so-obvious whisper.

Eddie drew back. “What?”

“Hen—” Chimney started, a hand on her arm.

She shook him off. “No, I gotta—Eddie, you and Buck are like, perfect for each other. You love him, right?” Her eyes were wide and earnest behind her glasses.

“Of course I do,” Eddie said automatically.

Hen gestured emphatically, whacking Chim on the shoulder like this proved her point.

“Hen,” Eddie said gently. “Did you forget that I’m straight?”

Hen scowled, like she did not want to be reminded of this fact. “Okay, but like—if Buck was a girl, you would have asked him out by now. You’d be like—fucking married by now.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but found his mind stuck on Hen’s words. If Buck was a girl. Him and Buck, married. Eddie felt far drunker than he should be off just one and a half beers.

“Eddie, ignore her,” Chim cut in.

Hen frowned. “I’m going to find Karen,” she declared.

Eddie watched her retreating form, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “He’s my best friend,” he said belatedly.

“Eddie.” Chimney kicked his leg. “Ignore her, okay? She’s drunk.”

“Yeah, but—” Eddie started.

“Look,” Chim sighed. “We joke about you and Buck sometimes, okay?”

“You do?” Eddie asked.

“Little stuff,” Chimney assured. “Just, like, you’re each other’s favorite person and you’re missing what’s right in front of you, or whatever.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, to refute—what?—but Chim continued.

“But they’re just jokes, okay? We know you’re both straight. I mean, it’d be great if you weren’t, or whatever, but that’s not the world we live in.”

Eddie’s jaw closed with a click. He sipped his beer.

“He’s your best friend.” Eddie looked back to Chimney. “And that’s—” He seemed to search Eddie’s face for a moment. “That’s enough, right?”

Eddie swallows. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Exactly,” Chim agreed with an easy smile. “So, don’t worry about it, okay? She’s just drunk and forgot that we don’t make those jokes in front of you guys.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. Besides, Buck has a girlfriend, and—I have a date on Friday, so…”

“You have a date on Friday?” Chimney exclaimed. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, voice flat.

Chimney clapped him on the forearm, unable to reach his shoulder from his sitting position. “Look, man, you’ll find that perfect girl-version of Buck out there, okay? I believe.”

Eddie chuckled. “Sure.”

He looked out to the party—his eyes immediately found Buck, head thrown back in laughter at something Athena had said. The string lights of the backyard made his styled curls shine with a honey-colored fire, his fingers curled carelessly around the neck of a beer bottle made Eddie’s mouth feel suddenly dry.

Just this. Just you, Eddie thought.

“You’re right,” he said to Chimney with a hollow smile. “I’ll find someone.”

[theposhperyton]

All evidence suggests yes

[eddiediazenjoyer]

still not over buck's response to tommy's comment about bringing eddie to the laker's game being "really? 😄" loser boyfriend buck my LOVE in what world do you say anything other than "no ofc i'll take you. my boyfriend. to the game that you. my boyfriend. got me tickets for. for our anniversary. why would you even suggest that" but buck is insane and obsessed with eddie so ofc his first thought was oh yay! can't wait to tell him to make sure carla's available to watch chris so we can go!

[undefeatablesin]

⊹ .+ Tag Game Rules: Shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people. ᅠ ⊹ .+

Take Me Back To Eden - Sleep Token

Divine Service - Lies of P OST

Bones - Equinox

Turncoat - Matthew Mayfield

Suffer - Hurts

Magdalene - Akira Yamaoka

Roxanne - Sting

Wing of Hypocrisy - Lies of P OST

Hail the Nightmare - Bloodborne OST

Yawning Grave - Lord Huron

ᅠ ⊹ .+ tagged by: @hymntosappho + @aligom-pink-coffin ✨ Thank you both! I love lil dash games like these omg ᅠ ⊹ .+ tagging: @harena-tigris, @ghostlyanon, @00x7, @bornetoblood, @butchladymaria, @galaxirin, @treeshrine, @karnaca78, @dulaman-na-farraige ᅠ✨

[disaster-j]

BuckTommy eventually adopting a daughter and her and Eddie having a dynamic like Nick and Ruth from New Girl

"What do you mean she doesn't like me!?!"

"She thinks you make too many dad jokes. Also. Not a fan of your cooking."

"Tommy your daughter is basically Christopher's sister SHE HAS TO LIKE ME! TELL HER TO LIKE ME!"

"I'm calling Evan. I don't think I can handle this crisis."

[bibuckaroo]

absolutely hilarious to me that that side of the fandom think the buddie side is the delusional one because of the tim interview when the man himself CLEARLY stated that he had NEVER seen the fandom behaving this badly in all of his years working in the business and the only difference from all the other years to this one is the bt fandom, like genuinely lol.

he also stated about people coming to talk to him and using what he said when there are prints out there of their fandom doing this, like it’s not all of them obviously, just like there are parts of the buddie fandom who can be disrespectful too, but as someone who recently joined the fandom and saw the comings and goings through the years, i can safely say when a fandom is being too much on the disrespectful side and i saw that behavior way more on that side, honestly.

[floridagirlboy]

i think if army ever figured out national guard was crushing on maryland he'd tease him SO FUCKING HARD but like. try to wingman. but be fucking abysmal at it because he's him. and also he's still very much embarrassing him on purpose because it is his duty as the bigger sibling. nat feels so embarrassed but maryland finds it kind of cute how army is so obviously trying.

army: did you know my brother once saved puppies from a burning building

nat: [shoots him a glare]

army, getting the wrong message: the burning building was an orphanage btw

nat: [elbows him and is desperately trying to shut him up without making a scene]

army: the president gave him five medals for it. they had to make up a new one just for him

maryland, very amused: oh? is that true?

nat: [yanking army down to his level and covering his mouth before he can make it worse] sorry he hit his head really hard before he came out here i don't know what he's talking about

army, muffled: he's really humble

and then they start fighting and maryland just watches on with a grin and shakes his head

[inventedfangirling]

Episode 7 Pat : To lose or not to win that is the question

Okay I saw a post talking about how episode 7 pat "loses the bet everyday" and how in this rooftop scene...

Pat raises the stakes (asking pran to confess in public) to keep Pran from saying the words just then (knowing he won't take that option) is making me feel and think a lot of things and now my brain is all over the place and i might as well just all note it down here or i won't have peace of mind.

At the outset i want to confess that eventhough i know that the bet has been for pran's sake i still viewed at as a legitimate competition that both pat and pran were trying to win, but i'm realising more and more how (for a large part of the bet) that just wasn't the case at all.

Pat came all the way from Bangkok to the hostile architecture trip alone only and only for Pran. Pat wants to be with him. Pran knows that and Pat knows that Pran knows that. He hasn't tried to hide it at all.

Pat knows that Pran has feelings for him, Pran knows that Pat knows that. But he also isn't ready to admit what it would entail and the familiarity of competition between them allows him to explore that.

"Whoever falls in love first loses" - when both of them know that they have feelings for each other, is hilaaaarious on first watch, but once you've rewatched it countless times and reached a whole new level of brain rot where your blood cells have p cells embedded within p cells in them then it isn't funny, it isn't funny at all * screams into a pillow *

Coming back to the bet, and what it actually means which is that whoever admits it(their feelings) first, loses. And all of us including pat and pran know that pat has already lost. Him coming to the trip just to get Pran to talk and his confession that he actually didn't like Ink 'like that' is all pointing to just one very obvious thing.

So Pat has already lost and yet they're both entering into the bet as if on equal ground. Pat could (and is very much willing to) keep losing over and over again, he very clearly wants to be with Pran but he would keep the charade of the bet up if it meant Pran wasn't ready.

Which means that the entire time that they were teasing and flirting with each other, all throughout episode 7, pat keeps on losing just for Pran's sake.

Do you realise how absolutely insanely madly crazy (mature) in love Pat is???? This might be a childish bet to YEW but to him its a space for Pran (and him) to explore their feelings without the responsibility of a relationship on them, it's actually revolutionary.

Kinda like killing with kindness, which basically sums up the kinda guy Pat is when he's with Pran.

"Don't force me to" he says in response to Pran's "You're just not brave to" (confess) when all of us know Pat is very well brave enough to do that and that is exactly what Pat is reiterating here. He's saying "you very well know why i'm partaking in this charade don't act like you don't i could kiss your competitive ass right now but im not doing it cos i want you to (admit that you) want it".

The man is basically losing (coming over to play and then offering to clean pran's face cos he looked upset screams somebody who wants to win real bad right hahahah NOT *argh pat can you not be so unreally sweet people have to go back to their real lives with real men to be disappointed by*) over and over again asking Pran to "just let me love you, you dork".

Here Pat is literally doing the confession, the very thing they started the bet stating, "i'll make you beg on your knees for me", well he's almost doing the next best thing, and he's doing it willingly, in front of people, with the most genuine smile on his face.

And when he raises the stakes on the rooftop and he does it entirely for Pran again. As much as he wants to be with Pran he equally wants it to be when Pran is ready for it. Not for it to be a decision he is forced or boxed into. He doesn't want to beat Pran he wants Pran to walk into the loss like he himself did, over and over again, because that's just the kinda guy he is.

Boy basically said if me winning the bet means you losing your chance to make that choice for yourself then i don't want that kinda win.

Which is why he's been willingly giving up all the chances to win throughout the episode, but continuing to put up the charade of the bet cos 1. yeah ofc its loads of fun teasing pran and he is so grateful he gets to be close to him again but more importantly 2. he can't (but he is fully willing to) wait for Pran to mentally be ready to get into a relationship.

"As for me, when i have a lover, I always let my lover win" - And truer truths haven't been told. Man has been losing since the very beginning. And that too happily. He is only doing it to give Pran the time that he deserves to process the whole thing and accept his love.

See even here he isn't expecting Pran to confess his love and sweep the whole bet thing away.

Look at Pat pausing trying to figure out what Pran is doing here. I can almost hear the cogs in his brain turn, until the very moment that Pran extends his hand to wipe the stray piece of rice away and then gives him that look. The look that says, "I love you, i'm done making you wait, thankyou, i love you".

So to conclude, Pat like the simp he is entered the bet (and kept willfully losing) only to make Pran comfortable. And literally the first moment that he completely feels comfortable, Pran gives in.

This whole post is borne out of my thoughts after i read what was said in here.

For more of my bet era patpran brainrot :

[doodle17]

I need Amy in the 3rd movie PLEASE I need my girl

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

and so begins the making of christmas presents

[rexscanonwife]

When I'm closing out at work and I've had a shitty day I blast MCR on the radio speakers. The louder it is the worse of a day I had 🙂