I have to work (subbing the ISS class) in a few hours and I finally fell asleep about an hour ago, accidentally leaving my iPod on.
So naturally, the goddamn Nightmare on Elm Street theme starts fucking playing and rips me out of a dream so fast I have a fucking sleep paralysis episode, and now I’m huddled beneath my blankets gasping for air like a child, heart burning hot and thumping erratically in my throat, every noise the whirring of boiler rooms and screeches of metal-on-metal; heavy steel-toed boots on linoleum. (Though I know it’s just my air conditioner).
Man, I love having issues!
House and Wilson’s relationship is the only relationship any of the main characters had that lasted through the show (Thirteen with her girlfriend being the exception, which is a very obvious, and nice, parallel, though we only saw them for one episode).
I will always have ships, and I will always have OTPs, but hilson will always be on its own fucking level.
I feel like Animorphs is a series that more people should read. It’s twisted and horrifying and gutwrenching and absolutely not what you would expect but that’s why it’s so amazing.
This is going to be a rant on Animorphs and why everyone should read it. It will be long. But dear god, is this series worthy of all the praise in the world.
What, exactly, makes a love story where the two male characters canonically declared their love for each other and rode off into the sunset “queer baiting”?
Games with English: insert the word “only” anywhere into the above sentence and consider how the placement changes meaning.
Set in the 11 months between the end of Season 7 through Transplant.
377. That’s how many times Wilson drives the route from Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital to Mercer County Prison.
0. That’s how many times he goes inside.
125. That’s the average length, in minutes, of the visiting hours Wilson sits through each weekend, alone in his car, radio and engine off. It’s how long Wilson doesn’t spend with House each weekend. It is not even close to how much he thinks of him.
$4.23. That’s the cost of the coffee Wilson doesn’t buy House each day.
3.75. That’s how many hours House’s confession and sentencing lasts. Wilson knows this because Foreman texted him when it started and ended. “He looked okay,” the text had read, as Wilson pretended that he had not been waiting by his phone at all.
$75.36. That’s the cost of Wilson’s co-pays for his wrist. He calculates that it’s worth 20 days of coffee and then pretends he didn’t, because it’s not like he’s ever talking to that man again, right?
45. That’s the number of days Wilson wears a splint. Secretly, he wishes it were longer; looking at it makes it easier from him to remember that he is not worried about Gregory House. Not at all.
154. That’s the number of days that Wilson was on a prison medicine rotation during residency. It’s also the number of days he saw things that now make him terrified each and every day. He had been safe, of course. The prisoners had not. Especially not the ones that couldn’t have fought back.
$377, 845. That is how much Cuddy ends up getting from the insurance settlement for her house. Two days afterward, she gives Wilson a tearful hug and moves on, in a way Wilson doubts he ever can.
32. That’s the number of times Wilson jumps at the sound of cane hitting the floor of the hallways, before he remembers that it is the patients, not the doctors, he’s hearing.
3. That’s the number of times House says “rape.” Wilson wonders if it means anything. He tries to convince himself that it doesn’t.
84. That’s the number of times Wilson reminders himself that he doesn’t love Gregory House—at least in the first day he’s back.
$6.52. That’s the cost of the Reuben that Wilson doesn’t eat.
$32.83. That’s the cost of the steak dinner he buys for him and House. Though he would never admit it, he considers it some of the best money he’s ever spent.
∞. The number of times Wilson thinks of Gregory House. Although he doesn’t know it, it’s also the number of time House thinks of him.