It's Actually Kind Of Funny How Like. The Second Duckling Squad Of Taub/kutner/13 Get Along Much Better

Thot daughter:

Gay son:

Boy mom:

Girl dad:

weaponized incompetence uncle:

Trauma bonding aunt:

Black cat neighbor:

Golden retriever:

Sister-in-law:

/

Golden-retriever-sister-in-law:

“I can’t get away from this fucking family”:

i wish so badly that we had gotten to see foreman and amber really really interact cause they're very like eachother in terms of narrative function and character. both of them ARE house, one step removed - foreman is black and amber is a woman, and neither of them can afford to be as messy and reckless as house can afford to be, because they know that they won't be seen as good enough even if they're right all the time. foreman is running from his personal life and feels like an outsider in every situation. amber understands her place and knows that if nobody likes her, she has to be right, to make up for it. both of them have the guts and the brains to be house, but they are just too far removed from the qualities about house that allow him to get to where he is in the world with very few barriers. they're both such fascinating examinations of what you can get away with when you're not at a disadvantage from the beginning

He cares so much it hurts.

“One day the sadness will end.

But I don’t think today’s the day.”

David Lynch

noooo orpheus don't look back :(

I have a love-hate relationship with the housemd intro bc on one hand I love the music, the coloring, the little shuffling sound right before RSL's name shows up on the screen...on the other hand why is everyone else represented as some anatomical part of the body but then Jennifer Morrison is a fucking river

starting a collection. pierre talking to natasha in war and peace

I’ve been reading some of these and just. ARGH.

The idea of chase and foreman sitting in House’s office, because it’ll never quite be chase’s, and just looking around at the room the first time back after his death. Both of them are so lost in their memories they basically forget the others there, and then their attentions cross paths again. For a split second they see the other all those years ago, foreman newly hired and Chase baby faced. They notice the stress lines and the fatigue that’s deep into each of their bones now that they carry like an old friend, and they don’t want to break the silence, because then it’ll be real.

It’s foreman who eventually does it, seeing the shine of nearly shed tears in Chase’s eyes. “Hey, what’s the betting that they’ve actually ran off together to watch monster trucks and trashy soaps in peace?” And it’s said with a small smile, a hopeful attempt to make chase laugh. Chase blows out a shaky but amused huff, “you think Wilson’ll allow that? He probably has house drinking a carrot and kale smoothie as we speak.” the reply is quiet and thick but it’s there, both finding relief in the fantasy of what should be and isn’t. Chase will tell himself it is, foreman won’t correct him.

With a final look in the office for the day, the air becoming too stifled with the clutter of old memories and not enough room to make new ones. They’ll face that tomorrow, so they head to foreman’s office, not quite ready to go home to face their separate apartments alone just yet.

“Hey, if you’re dean of medicine, does that make you Cuddy and me House?” Chase asks, and it’s the first time Foreman has heard him sound like himself since the news. Not wanting to break the delicate atmosphere, he replies,

“House doesn’t cry at Christmas movies”

“And you don’t have Cuddy’s ass.”

“6 hours of clinic duty.”

“..foreman?” Chase hesitated

“Yeah?”

“We’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be okay.”

what could have been