Oliver Stark As Evan "Buck" Buckley 9-1-1, S08E04 - No Place Like Home

Some thoughts on Eddie Diaz vs. Fanon Gay Eddie

I wanna preface this by saying that i'm latino, gay, raised catholic, heard the phrase "you gotta be the man of the house" my whole life. So on paper the idea of "repressed gay Eddie Diaz" should be appealing to me, right? well not exactly and here's why:

when I started watching the show I was aware of buddie, but I never engaged with the fandom. It wasn't until Buck came out that I started interacting with it.

when you join any space online the algorithm feeds you the most popular stuff, in this case, all my 911 recommendations were buddie, at the time I saw the vision, after all I love queer rep! but after the date episode and all throughout the hiatus I realized something very quickly:

most buddies don't actually care about queer rep, they just wanted their ship to go canon.

this realization came after weeks of seeing them spew bi/homophobic rhetoric and claiming it didn't matter as long as they got buddie, some examples:

- saying they wanted Buck to play into the bisexual cheating stereotype.

- calling Tommy a groomer, creep and predator.

- being unable to fathom the idea that Tommy was just hanging out with Eddie as friends

- claiming Eddie being a pos shit to women was ok "as long as he's gay".

- the insistence that Eddie should only be read as gay (not even bi).

- the idea that Buck and Eddie should only be "gay for each other" and no one else.

(these talking points still get repeated and if anything they have gotten more hateful the more time has passed).

Buddies insisted that they could've made buddie canon every ep, but that's simply not true, even leaving the GA and network aside, if you watch the show without shipping goggles you'll realize how much work they'll need to write that arc for Eddie as well, and if you care about queer rep you would want him to have his arc too, right?

they also claimed that his religious guilt is "clearly tied to queerness" when in reality Eddie is one of the most stagnant characters in the show as his religious guilt is tied to his inability to secure a "traditional family unit" and be the "man of the house" he was told to be. He drove Shannon away (something he admitted), then lost her forever and hasn't been able to move on for 6 seasons. It all circles back to that guilt about Shannon, the expectations put on him and his feelings of failing her, his parents, his kid and himself. Could there be an space for queerness too? Sure, but that's not what the show has portrayed at all so far.

the heavy mischaracterization of Eddie, the choice to strip him away from all his flaws or excuse them, the character assassination and malicious reading of Tommy while engaging in homophobia, their inability to allow Buck to be his own character with his queerness having nothing to do with Eddie and the desire to have him play into negative stereotypes told me everything I needed to know about where these people who want to gaslight you into thinking that "gay Eddie and buddie is the only correct answer" actually stand when it comes to queer rep.

it is not inherently wrong to find relatability in Eddie as a queer person and read him as such, but it is incredibly dishonest to claim that's the only valid way to read him.

in the end, I should find Eddie more relatable as a character and truth be told? I do, but I find Ryan's desire to tell a story about men being vulnerable, emotionally open and close without having to question their sexuality or masculinity far more realistic and honest for the character and Ryan himself.

Celebrities

Week Ending October 28th, 2024

Zendaya +6

Kathryn Hahn -1

Aubrey Plaza -1

Pedro Pascal +5

Patti LuPone

Hugh Jackman -2

Oliver Stark +9

Joe Locke -3

Lou Ferrigno Jr

Drew Starkey -4

Ryan Guzman +4

David Tennant

Andrew Garfield -10

Nicholas Alexander Chavez -6

Paul Mescal

Ryan Reynolds -6

Sasheer Zamata

Jensen Ackles -5

Michael Sheen

Sydney Sweeney

This is the same picture

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

me thinking about drunk buck again? shocker

"You know my boyf—mm, no, my ex b’yfrienddd," Buck slurred, pointing vaguely at the man sitting beside him. The guy— some guy named Jake, or maybe Jade... something like that—just nodded like this was the most riveting conversation of his life. "Mmm yes, he is my ex now. Anyway, he was great! No, no, wait, he’s my ex, he’s awful, you see."

The dude hummed in agreement, his lips twitching upward as if he were trying not to laugh. "Seems like it," he said mildly.

Buck squinted not looking at him. "You—you don’t even know him. He’s... complicated. Like, the most annoying person on the planet but also... amazing." He let out a deep, melodramatic sigh and took another sip from his glass. "He does this thing, this... smirk thing, and it’s like—like he knows everything about me, and it drives me insane. Ugh."

"That does sound annoying," the man—Jake said, tilting his head in mock sympathy.

"Right?!" Buck exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the counter. "But then he’d do something stupidly nice like, I don’t know, make me breakfast when I didn’t even ask or fix my stupid shelf that broke because I’m bad at, uh, shelves. And suddenly, I’m like, 'Wow, maybe I’ll just marry this guy.' But noooooo. He had to go and—ugh—be right. About everything."

Jake didn’t say anything, just quirked an eyebrow as Buck kept rambling.

"And now he’s my ex. You heard that part, right? My ex!” Buck hiccuped, slapping his hand over his mouth. "Oops. Sorry. Excuse me."

"Forgiven," Jake said, his tone unreadable. He sipped his drink like this was just another Tuesday.

Buck frowned at him, his drunk brain scrambling for something clever to say. He failed. "You’re very chill, you know that? Like... annoyingly chill. You remind me of him. My ex. I don’t like it. Or maybe I do. I don’t know. Ughhh."

“Must’ve been quite the guy."

Buck sighed, the weight of the world settling onto his shoulders. "He was. He... he really was."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence felt heavy, like it was trying to tell Buck something he couldn’t quite hear. Then he hiccuped again, breaking the spell.

"You’re cool, though," Buck muttered, waving his glass at the guy before tipping it back. "Not like him. But also... kinda like him. Weird."

Jake just smiled faintly, not saying a word.

Buck leaned heavily on the counter, staring at his empty glass like it was the source of all his problems. "You don’t get it. He’s the worst. Like... so smug. Always thinking he knows everything. And you know what? He doesn’t! He doesn’t know me! He doesn’t—hiccup—know what I want. No one does!" He jabbed his finger at the man beside him for emphasis.

Jake, still calm as ever, took a sip of his drink and nodded. "Sounds like a real piece of work."

Buck whipped his head around so fast he nearly fell off the stool. "Whoa, hey! You don’t get to say that," he snapped, his words slurring but his glare surprisingly sharp.

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Why not? You just said it."

"Yeah, but—" Buck flailed his hands dramatically, nearly knocking his glass off the counter. "I can say it. I dated him. You? You don’t even know him! You’re just some... some random guy!"

"Fair point," Jake said with a shrug, but there was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Buck narrowed his eyes, his very drunk brain working overtime to keep up. "He’s not that bad, okay? I mean, yeah, he’s annoying and bossy and—" He paused, gesturing vaguely as if the words were just out of reach. "And stubborn. But he’s also, like... thoughtful and—" His voice softened, almost wistful. "Kind. He cared. About me. About everyone. Even when he didn’t say it out loud."

Jake hummed, his tone unreadable. "Doesn’t sound so awful."

"Exactly!" Buck said, throwing his hands up. "That’s what I’m saying! He’s... ugh, he’s the worst best person I’ve ever met. And now he’s gone. And it’s my fault." His voice cracked at the end, and he quickly ducked his head, pretending to study the wood grain of the bar.

"Maybe it’s not your fault," Jake offered, his voice quieter now.

Buck laughed bitterly. "Oh, it is. I mean, I wanted him to stay. I asked him to stay. But he was all, like, 'You’re still figuring yourself out,' and 'I’m your first, not your last.' Like, what does that even mean?!"

Jake’s expression flickered—something Buck couldn’t quite name, not in his current state. "Maybe he thought he was doing the right thing."

"Yeah, well, it wasn’t!" Buck snapped, slamming his hand down on the counter. "It wasn’t the right thing for me. I didn’t want right, I wanted him. And now I’m here, talking to you, and he’s... I don’t even know where he is."

Jake didn’t respond right away, just sat there, his drink untouched. After a moment, he said, "Maybe he’s closer than you think."

Buck frowned, squinting like the words were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. But before he could ask what that was supposed to mean, another hiccup cut him off, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"You’re weird," he mumbled through his fingers. "Why are you even listening to me?"

Jake chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar in a way that tugged at something deep in Buck’s chest. "I guess I’m just a sucker for a good story."

"He is!" Buck said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "He’s—ugh. He’s just this guy, you know? But not just a guy. He’s... he’s smart, and thoughtful, and really good at all the boring, practical stuff I suck at. Like, he can fix anything. He once rebuilt an engine in his garage for fun! Who does that?!" Buck paused, hiccupping before continuing. "And he has this way of looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, even when you’re being a complete idiot. Especially when you’re being a complete idiot. And then, just when you think you’ve got him figured out, he’ll say something so... so him—and it’s exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn’t want to."

His voice cracked, and he dropped his gaze to his empty glass. "He made me feel like... like maybe I was worth sticking around for, you know? But then he left anyway. So what does that say about me?"

Buck groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "I don’t even know why I’m talking about him. He’s gone, and he probably doesn’t think about me at all anymore."

"Maybe he does," Jake said, his voice calm but carrying a weight Buck couldn’t quite process in his state.

Buck snorted, his head wobbling as he tried to look at Jake. "Nah. He’s too busy being perfect somewhere else. Fixing things, smirking at someone else, probably making them breakfast now." His voice cracked again, and he slumped forward, leaning heavily on the counter. "It’s not fair. I don’t want to miss him, but I do. All the time. Every damn day."

Jake stayed quiet for a moment, swirling the remnants of his drink. "Sounds like you really loved him."

Buck blinked blearily at Jake. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. Still do. But it doesn’t matter. He left."

"Maybe he thought you deserved better," Jake murmured, his tone so soft Buck almost missed it.

"Better?" Buck slurred, laughing bitterly. "There’s no better. He was better. He was it. And I messed it up."

Jake leaned back, his eyes studying Buck for a long moment. "Maybe he thought he was the one who messed it up."

Buck frowned at that, the words bouncing around in his drunken mind without fully landing. He opened his mouth to respond, but a yawn caught him off guard, and his head lolled forward slightly.

"Okay," Jake said, standing up and patting Buck’s shoulder. "Let’s get you home before you pass out here."

"I’m not—" Buck started to protest, but his words dissolved into another yawn. "Fine. Whatever. But only ’cause you’re so... so good at listening, Jake."

Jake chuckled, sliding Buck’s arm around his shoulders as he helped him off the stool. "Sure, that’s why."

The trip to the loft was a blur for Buck, his head bobbing as he mumbled fragments of sentences. "He used to—hiccup—used to cook pancakes on Sundays," he muttered as they walked. "Never liked syrup, though. Just butter. Who doesn’t like syrup?"

Jake made a noncommittal noise, holding Buck steady as they reached the loft.

When they reached the loft, Buck fumbled with his keys before Jake gently took them from him and unlocked the door. Inside, Buck stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Whoa, easy there," Jake said, catching him with an arm around his waist. "We’re not done yet. Bed’s upstairs, right?"

Buck blinked at him, bleary-eyed, before nodding vaguely in the direction of the stairs. "Yeah... stairs. Stupid stairs. Who needs stairs anyway? I should just sleep right here." He sagged slightly, leaning heavily into Jake.

Jake sighed, adjusting Buck’s arm over his shoulders. "Come on, you’re almost there."

They moved toward the stairs, Buck dragging his feet and muttering incomprehensibly. Jake tightened his hold, practically lifting him as they climbed. "You’re heavier than you look, you know that?" Jake muttered under his breath.

"’M not heavy," Buck slurred, his head lolling against Jake’s shoulder. "You’re just... weak. Bet you’ve never carried someone out of a fire or... or something heroic like that."

Jake smirked faintly, his voice low and even. "You’d be surprised."

By the time they reached the top, Buck was practically draped over Jake, who maneuvered him carefully toward the bed. He eased Buck down onto the mattress, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him as Buck flopped back with a groan.

"Finally," Buck mumbled, eyes half-closed. "Hate those stairs. Hate... everything."

Jake crouched down to untie Buck’s shoes, his movements steady and practiced, as though this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. "Don’t worry, I’ve got it from here," he said softly.

Buck blinked down at him, his vision swimming. "You’re... nice," he mumbled. "Too nice. You don’t even... you don’t even know me." He hiccupped, his head lolling to one side. "I mean, you’re here, so you’re not that bad. But… you’re not him."

Jake’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second before he resumed tugging off Buck’s shoes.

"He’d probably—hiccup—he’d probably say I’m too much. Like I push too hard, or I don’t stop to think. But I just… I just try, you know? Maybe I try too much..." Buck’s voice cracked, and he let out a breathy laugh. "And now look. No one’s here."

Jake paused, his jaw tightening as he set the shoes neatly by the bed. He glanced up briefly, something flickering across his face, but Buck didn’t notice.

Jake’s hands moved to unbutton Buck’s jeans, and Buck let out a tired laugh. "I’m not... I’m not that kinda guy, Jake."

Jake snorted softly. "Relax. You’re safe."

He eased the jeans off and set them aside, then reached for Buck’s shirt. Buck swatted weakly at him but barely had the energy to protest. "You’re... too good at this. Bet you’re a pro at babysitting drunk idiots."

"Something like that," Jake murmured, pulling the blanket up and tucking it snugly around Buck’s shoulders. For a moment, his hand lingered on the edge of the blanket, his eyes scanning Buck’s face as if committing him to memory.

Buck stirred, his eyes fluttering half-open. "I miss him," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. His hand flailed clumsily for a second before it landed on Jake’s arm. "Tell him... I miss him."

Jake froze, his jaw tightening as he looked down at Buck. Then he covered Buck’s hand with his own, his thumb brushing against his knuckles for a brief moment. "I’ll tell him," he said softly, even though Buck was already slipping into sleep.

Jake placed a water bottle and some pills on the bedside table, his movements quiet and deliberate. He lingered there for a beat, his gaze heavy with something unspoken.

Leaning down, Jake brushed his fingers lightly through Buck’s curls, his voice low and warm as he whispered, "I don’t even look like a Jake, Evan."

Buck stirred slightly, a faint furrow in his brow, but his eyes stayed closed. Jake Tommy pulled back, hesitating for just a moment before slipping out, leaving the loft in silence.

hello handsome guys🐻❤️

celebration: housewarming party with the 118 at tommy's house proposal: a little silly one but they take it seriously

“I guess what I’m saying is,” Tommy says, even as he dutifully carries a bowl overloaded with tortilla chips and another bowl equally overloaded with seven layer dip, “I don’t understand why we’re having a house-warming party if I’ve lived here for ten years.” He sets his cargo down on the table, then leans one hand on it and turns to face his boyfriend.

“Right, but I haven’t,” Evan says, trailing into the living room with two huge platters of his own (a big bowl of potato chips, and a homemade French onion dip that Tommy had snuck a taste of and nearly went cross eyed, it was that good). He gently places them down, then nudges Tommy’s bowls around a quarter of an inch at a time until their placement is to his liking.

God, Tommy loves him a lot. 

He’s lucky Evan loves him a lot, too, because he steals a tortilla chip out of the bowl and takes a healthy scoop out of the seven layer dip, and the barely concealed scowl on Evan’s face suggests he’d be getting his hand slapped and his ass kicked out of the house until the guests arrive, if only he didn’t love Tommy so much.

“Oh, my God,” Tommy moans around his mouthful. “Baby, did you make guacamole from scratch?” Evan’s expression smooths out into something more smug, more pleased, and this time he only flinches slightly when Tommy goes back in for seconds. 

“Marry me,” Tommy jokingly garbles around another huge bite of chip and dip, not really thinking much of it until Evan’s breath hitches.

Tommy forcibly swallows before he is necessarily ready to, the tortilla chip scratching his throat all the way down, but before he can ask Evan…anything, the doorbell rings. 

That quiet little expression of want that Evan had been wearing disappears when he swears and bolts back into the kitchen. “Can you get that?” he shouts. “I need to grab the plates and utensils!”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, and has to clear his throat when his voice cracks over the words. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

When he opens the door, he’s got pretty much the entire A shift of the 118 crammed onto his porch. Right at the front is Jee-Yun, who breaks away from her mother’s hold just to slam into Tommy’s midsection. “Uncle Tommy!” she shouts, then holds her arms straight up at him. “Pick me up.”

Tommy makes a show of it, grunting and groaning, pretending that Jee weighs seven times more than she does. When he’s finally got her set on his hip, he pants and wipes the back of his hand over his brow, trying and failing not to smile at the sound of her bright little giggles. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Chim drawls from the doorway, clapping Tommy on the shoulder as he steps inside. “You save a guy’s life and all he cares about is your kid.” He winks and elbows Tommy, not unkindly.

“Hey, Howie,” Tommy says, just as warmly. “Hi, Maddie,” he says as Evan’s sister steps over the threshold. He’s always a little nervous around Maddie, even though she’s never been anything but kind and supportive of her and Evan, but he can’t help it when he knows how much Evan values her opinion. 

She gives him a smile and a tilt of the head like she knows, before stepping into his other side and giving him a hug just as warm as her daughter’s. “Hi, Tommy,” she says, and reaches up to gently pat him on the cheek twice before stepping away. Once her mom leaves, Jee just wants to be put down, so Tommy obliges, and about ten seconds later hears her shout for her Uncle Buck. 

Hen and Karen are the next in, giving him a bottle of wine and a set of glasses to go with it. Neither of them are particularly affectionate as they walk in, bar Karen squeezing him lightly on the forearm, but he knows from experience that once they get into their cups, that will change. 

Ravi’s next with two six packs of craft beer that he presses into Tommy’s arms before beelining to the snack table. Tommy laughs under his breath and sets the beer on the ground when he realizes that Bobby and Athena are the last to wander inside, Bobby somehow carrying two casserole dishes and Athena holding one, along with a large bottle of champagne.

“Here, let me help,” he says, darting forward to relieve at least one of them of their burden, but he gets two sets of raised eyebrows for his efforts. 

“We’re guests,” Bobby says, unbothered, as he walks inside. “Let us help.”

Athena purses her lips at him, but as she follows her husband, she lightly bumps into Tommy on the way. “You’re family now, you know,” she reminds him, and her expression softens when Tommy fights down a nervous grimace. “We’re not that scary." She eyes him a little bit, smiling, and deigns to hand the enormous bottle of champagne over to Tommy. “Better get that on ice.”

Tommy nods and shuts the door behind them, but hangs back in the foyer while he watches the 118 gather together and greet each other with hugs and cheek kisses, and twists his hands around the dark glass of the champagne bottle. Evan - halfway into a conversation with his sister - suddenly breaks away and steps quickly towards Tommy. He bends down and picks up the beer that Ravi had shoved into Tommy’s hands, then leans in and kisses Tommy on the mouth, warm and soft and lingering. 

“Come on,” he whispers as he pulls away. “Everybody wants to see our house.”

Tommy will admit that he’s had his reservations ever since Evan moved in and brought up having a housewarming party, but as he steps into the living room and the family Evan’s cultivated for himself makes room to fold Tommy in, he finally understands why Evan wanted this.

He spends the next hour talking to Maddie and Karen about some godawful procedural show that they all watch as a guilty pleasure, and he’s in the middle of listening to Karen and Maddie debate about who Dr. Townsend should end up with - his RN Kathryn or Dr. Alcott - and trying to formulate a way to bring up how he thinks Townsend should end up with Dr. Kingston, the very male cardiologist, when a familiar pair of arms wind their way around Tommy’s waist.

“I can’t believe you guys watch that show,” Evan says as he hooks his chin over Tommy’s shoulder and scrunches his nose. The arms around him squeeze lightly before Evan says, “But he should end up with the heart surgeon guy.”

Maddie and Karen both make faces like it had never crossed their mind but it actually makes sense to them, and Tommy leans his head back so that his lips brush over Evan’s ear when he says, “God, I love you.”

Evan buries a smile into the meat of Tommy’s shoulder and starts to slightly sway them together, listening as Maddie and Karen excitedly discuss the possibilities of Dr. Townsend and Dr. Kingston.

“Don’t think I forgot what you said earlier,” Evan whispers, just loud enough for Tommy to hear, “when you were eating the seven layer dip.”

Tommy covers Evan’s hands with his own. “Wasn’t expecting you to,” he murmurs, and begins rubbing circles on the back of Evan’s hands. 

“You know we’re gonna have to talk about that later, right?”

Tommy hums, and just keeps swaying, “Later,” he whispers. “Right now, we’ve got family over, don’t we?”

Evan draws a breath, and the arms around Tommy tighten.

"and for you" 911 | bucktommy clips | masterlist

Evan Buckley and Tommy Kinard 7x04 - Buck, Bothered and Bewildered

can't believe it's been a whole year since that first kiss