#beanie..but moss

[synthshenanigans]

Remember how I made HMS outfits in ACNH like almost a year ago? Well I just made the 20XX outfit :}

Other skin tones are uploaded as well!!

[More text & a couple goofy images I took while getting the pics above]

Might make versions without the necklace or with the Halloween skin colors if anyone asks, but next I'm gonna try doing Fine, I'm Fine, Funky Jash, & some of the Power Hours as well. Also wanna remake the HMS stuff cos again its like 8-10 months old.

If anyone has any requests or ideas I'd be glad to take them! Just know that some stuff is very limiting so idk if I can actually make it [For example, the fishnet shirt CJ wears in Laplace's Angel I likely cannot do cos of the pattern]. Also I'm still working on art stuff so dunno when it'll happen but eventually! [hopefully]

[waveridden]

crochet moss stitch is my friend.

[broke-painter-blog]

Moss beanie in my Etsy shop! Green/grey/purple

[dr9com9ge-ix]

The 2nd bunch of sprunki designs c: More headcanons under the cut-

Also I may just tag this an an AU at this point (Also to maybe not step on any toes >-<; -) because man… Love coming up with the weird ass setting these guys are in which will probably be explained when I get to Mr. Sun’s design. But the short of it is they all live in an isolated little suburban town with a pretty small population (everyone knows each other to some extent.) and that there are other populations of Sprunkis and stuff such as large cities and rural villages.

OWAKCX

29 He/Him

- Was an accountant traveling to another city.

- Fell off a cliff near the town and sustained head and spinal injuries whilst on the phone. Vineria found him and took him into the town’s clinic to keep him from dying.

- Listed in the town’s documents as “OWAKCX” due to him unfortunately having difficulty speaking post-accident when asked what his name is. His speech has improved significantly since but has issues with volume control and a tic of making a loud startling sounds.

- His actual name is Ozwalt but accepted at this point that everyone calls him OWAKC. “Sure is a name” he says.

- Does not want to go back to the city he lives in due to how long he assumes he’s been gone. Most likely presumed dead.

- Clunkr and Garnold had made him his wheelchair. Said wheelchair can go very fast much to OWAKCX’s inital terror when first using it. Now he’s quite good at speeding across places (it took a bit.).

- Is a bit high strung and easily startled at times. Has bit someone in a panic before and apologized right after.

- Can get a bit snarky and sarcastic, joked about Raddy’s ability to hammer nails (Hits them too hard and they bend,) and got clocked in the head with the hammer he was using. He knows a bit better not to snark Raddy anymore.

- Lives with Vineria in her greenhouse/normal house, He helps her file her taxes and documents for free… Its repayment for literally saving his life. Everyone else has to pay him if they want him to do that for them, Mostly to keep his workload low and so nobody else asks.

- Chronically grits and grinds his teeth and shakes like a cold chihuahua even when under a blanket.

- Had an alt rock phase in high school that is slowly coming back…Not fashion wise but he is blasting it straight into his ears as he works.

Vineria

27 She/them

- Moved to the town because she wanted to have her own greenhouse to grow a variety of plants. Including weed

- Has gotten in trouble in her previous residence for seed bombing golf courses and smoking in her apartment.

- Very chill and laid back.

- Likes to climb trees and go on nature walks.

- Has tasted moss out of curiosity while watching over brud, has gone on record going “mhm not bad!” but tries to give him more normally edible plants.

- Naturally bald, used to just wear a beanie before her wigs.

- Found her first plant wig in the woods near town. Has been raising the same kinds of plants for her other plant wigs though the first one is her favorite and most worn.

- Helps out occasionally at the town clinic after she brought OWAKCX in, Mostly because she wanted to make sure she could check up on him while he recovered.

- Actually calls OWAKCX “Oz” instead as she knows his actual name.

- Has given plants and saplings to people as housewarming gifts.

brud

21 He/They

- Was once in foster care and a group home due to being abandoned, Had ran off when he had aged out of the system.

- Cannot feel pain, This had caused issues such as chewing his tongue to the point of it being a stub and scratching at himself without realizing he’s hurting himself. Has since been trying to be more careful and wears gloves and long sleeves over his hands to deter the picking and scratching.

- Can talk but not very clearly, Prefers to nod or shake his head or if really needed- To sign in sign language or write down what he wants to say. Also squeaks in excitement and whimpers when sad.

- Has terrible eyesight due to his eyes facing separate directions.

- Has a bucket over his sharp single horn to stop it from hurting other people and because he likes the bucket.

- Is a sort of permanent resident at the clinic due to his condition and tendency to get injured

- Hangs out with Simon the most out of the clinic staff. They’re besties.

- Likes earthy tastes which is why he eats moss sometimes.

- Gets mistaken for a child by newer residents.

- Loves to hug people and being hugged

Tunner

56 He/him

- The town’s sheriff who patrols around to help others, Likely gives new people tours. Did this as a hobby for a bit until he was officially given the role.

- Lives a bit farther in the outskirts, Likes his peace and quiet. This is also near Jevin and Sky’s caravan.

- Used to live in a desert town where he was a street performer who played the guitar and fended for himself until he could afford a gun and leave that place.

- Has an old horse named Cornbread who he rode into the town, she can be found grazing near his house.

- Very talkative, specifically loves telling stories about his adventures before he settled down though they tend to get long winded and embellished depending on whether or not he’s trying to make himself sound cooler/ Trying to impress someone. Jevin

- Has lost a tooth in a fight a long time ago and got a gold tooth to replace it. How he lost it in the fight changes every time he retells the story.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 26)

Warnings: For Those who may be uncomfortable with:

Non-Sexual Nudity

Non-Sexual Intimacy

They be robots, don't be weird about it.

“Uzi!” N was wrought with panic, he'd been worried in the couple of hours she'd been gone, feeling that something terrible would happen, something he wouldn't be able to stop.

And now, she was home again, V helping her stand at the doorway. Missing a whole limb.

“What happened?!” He yelped, moving forward so quickly he nearly shoved V over, taking his injured girlfriend into his arms, holding her lower back as he fussed over her, holding her at eye level.

V lifted an eyebrow, N was affectionate sure, but this seemed… more intimate than just N being worried over someone he cared about (even if she knew he was crushing on them).

“I uh, underestimated what we'd run into, I'm alright though. V seriously saved my ass.” Uzi responded with a small reassuring smile, although one rather pained. A wince passed through her again, her system warning her that her oil levels were low.

“Come in V.” He stepped out of V's way and carried Uzi over the counter, giving her a container of oil that she desperately chugged, it would normally take her a couple days to go through even one container but this one she finished within a couple of minutes.

V stepped into the living room, closing the door with her tail, her gaze drifted to the bedroom, as well as several trinkets that she was sure wasn't N's, a fake (maybe) human skull, rolled up sketches of plans and engineering designs, and small models of guns.

“Please… what happened?” She turned her attention to the kitchen counter, where Uzi was sitting, N hovering over her, his hands cupped over her face, moving singed hair out of her visor.

“Your moss thing was less moss, more eldritch furniture, it attacked us, latched on to me and started… melding with my leg. V cut off the tentacle but… it was still spreading up my leg. So…” She glanced over at V, implying the rest, N just leaned in further to her face, worry written so deeply in his eyelights V was concerned it might be permanent.

“Uzi…”

“I'm alright. I promise. My leg should regenerate soon.” Her hand connected with the one on her cheek as she subtlety nuzzled into it, blushing a little.

It then all clicked for V, the concern, the new stuff, the PDA.

They were freaking dating!

She didn't say anything immediately, although she turned away to give them privacy. She… honestly hadn't expected that, figuring N would be too nervous and Uzi too stubborn for either of them to end up confessing. Not that she hadn't noticed they both were crushing, she had seven working eyes after all.

She went over to the couch, crossing her arms and getting lost in her own thoughts.

N however, had V only at the back of his mind, most of it was dedicated entirely to Uzi, worry tightening over his core as he saw her entire bottom of her hoodie stained with her own oil.

“V did what she could to patch me up, I'm okay, see, I'm alive.” Uzi tipped his head back up to look at her, glancing over and seeing V wasn't looking at them anymore.

She kissed the hand that was rubbing circles into her cheek, making N's worry break into an embarrassed smile for a moment.

“I'm still going to look over the patch, and clean you up, okay?” Uzi only nodded, only to be wisked away into the master bathroom, N holding her beanie in one hand and clutching her tight in his other.

“W-wait? What?” She asked as he locked the door behind him. And placed her on the white countertop next to the kitchen sink, his hands were a little shaky, betraying his anxiety about the whole situation.

“Just let me take care of you, please?” He was almost pleading, a dusting of gold on his cheeks but otherwise looking intently worried.

“I can clean myself up.” Uzi mumbled, feeling all sorts of self-conscious.

“I know, but… I need to see that you're okay.” He pleaded, eyes hollow and stress lines down to the corner of his visor, he was clicking his hands together, a fidget to keep him steady.

“I- o-okay.”

“Thank you.” He breathed out in relief.

He stepped closer to her, giving her a small kiss on the forehead which caused her to flush before she felt his hand begin to fiddle with the zipper of her jacket, she tried not to flush more, gulping down the rising anxiety.

N wasn't faring much better, he wanted to check on her, make sure she was alright, but this was a step into territory he knew nothing about, much more intimate than forehead kisses and hugs.

Still he continued, he unzipped her hoodie, pulling it off and setting it beside her beanie, Uzi wouldn't dare look him in the eye, crossing her arms with a wary smile, was she seriously just going to let him do this? Yes, apparently.

He slowly moved her arms to her sides so he could pull off her undershirt, which was also stained with oil. It was his turn to gulp as his nerves caught up in his throat.

Her entire lower torso was still covered in her own oil, he could see where V had done tha best she could in cleaning what wasn't already covered by her clothing, but it was still a concerning amount.

He despite his best effort couldn't keep his eyes from drifting upward to the rest of her chassis, rolling over every groove and nick of past-pre solver injuries, dents and burns in the rubber of her midsection, and a scarred over gash that he'd created on the day they'd met. A pang of guilt passed over him.

Then to the covering of her core, the purple worker symbol glowing back at him, a part of him really wanted to touch it, to feel the thrumming core underneath-

“D-don’t stare…” She said softly, voice several tones of embarrassed and self-conscious, visor flushed with every shade of purple imaginable.

“Sorry Zi… it's just, you're beautiful.” He whispered, the same awkward, embarrassed tone laced in his voice as did hers.

“I look like every other worker you've ever seen N.” She replied, likely referencing how he'd acted before, he'd been dumb then, he wasn't going to be now.

“You don't.”

“Focus on the task…”

“Right.”

He dampened a rag and began what he originally set out to do, beginning on her intact leg that was still slightly stained, running up the rungs and cleaning dutifully.

His hands ceased shaking, with something that he could do instead of just something to stress over, he found his emotions much easier to control.

Uzi had gripped the counter and had vehemently decided not to look at him, she could barely believe she'd let him do this Had she lost that much oil?

He would never admit it to her, she would probably die of abject horror, but he was memorizing every inch of the surface he cleaned, being through yet gentle in his work, he wasn't sure if she would ever let him see her like this again, and he wanted to remember it.

After that was done, his hands traveled to the white of her lower torso, wringing out the now grey rag into the sink. He blushed when Uzi let out a muffled squeek, but ignored it, going back to rubbing the stains away until the blackened stains turned white again.

Uzi felt herself start to get overwhelmed with emotion, maybe it was the fact she had almost died and the subsequent ebbing of the artificial adrenaline that had been pumping through her system the last hour, but she started to get choked up.

N was treating her with such tenderness, not as if she was fragile, but like she mattered. V had done much of the same in her own way, despite the teasing she'd done with her earlier that day, she hadn't been certain she would actually save her.

N was still focused on his task, nerves subsiding entirely in favor of making certain Uzi was comfortable, at least until he noticed her body language shift, curling in on herself slightly.

“You okay?” He stood up, placing a hand on her shoulder, Uzi began to nod instinctually, but stopped herself.

No, she really wasn't. So she shook her head lightly.

“Do you want me to stop? I-is this too much?” He asked, looking deep into her eyelights for the answer to his question, he'd wanted to do this to make sure she was okay, to do something that would help even a little. But they had just gotten together; did this cross a line?

“No. It's okay, just ah… I just almost died. Post-almost death jitters.”

“You sure…?” He touched the side of her face in what seemed what was going to be a common interaction between them, he felt her sigh, leaning into his hand.

“Yeah.”

So he slowly went back to work, he was nearly finished, rubbing off the rest of the black that was staining her chassis.

“I love you, Uzi.” He said, no shame nor fear or nervous in his voice, looking up at her as if he was somehow peering into the depths of her programing.

Her words caught in her throat again, was this going to be a habit of his? Proclaiming his love in times where it would catch her the most off guard?

“I- I uh” She began to speak it back, to make up for last time, but yet again they seemed to lose their way to be spoken.

“You don't have to say it back, I just want you to know that.” He smiled, standing again, he washed the rag, looking more content with himself.

She didn't know why the words always got caught in her throat, because she did want to say them. She did love him, she really did, but trying to force the words out of her mouth seemed impossible.

He seemed to pick up on her internal conflict, and all he did was keep his smile.

“I know you do. It's okay.”

She blushed, then did more as she realized she was still very naked in front of him.

“I'm gonna remove the binding now, it's probably getting in the way for the new one.”

“Yeah, just be slow, p-please.”

He knelt back down once more, slowly pulling on the rough binding shoved into the socket of limb, Uzi jumped, a sudden input of pain making her hiss between her teeth.

In response, he took one of her hands and squeezed it, using the other to continue his work.

She took that hand almost eagerly, squeezing it back at she watched the ribbons of stained cloth make a pile on the floor, sometimes she would wince, and N would stop, rub calming circles into her hand until he was satisfied the pain had stopped, and then continue.

She felt the regeneration process begin before he was done, a stub of a limb forming to fill the hole before the rest of the limb followed, it wasn't exactly a painless process, but once it was done, she sighed, lifting her new leg and moving the servos.

Good as new, like she'd never lost it.

“There, is that better?” N was in front of her, body leaning into hers as his arms wrapped around her again, he rested his visor on hers, humming contently, holding her close.

“Mmhm.” She replied, the exhaustion following regenerating a new limb hitting her hard and fast, her eyelights drooped, and suddenly the warmth of N's core felt impossibly inviting.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Hold on biscuit, I got you.” Uzi felt herself blush at the pet name, N didn't seem to notice what had come out of his mouth, but she did, if it hadn't given her the worst case of butterflies ever, she might have been a little mad.

He kissed her forehead again before he strolled out quickly, glancing at V, who had entered sleep mode on the couch, light snoring and all.

He smiled softly, grabbing a light blanket that had been hanging over the side and tossing it over her, before rushing into the bedroom to dig out Uzi's pajamas.

He dug out a black shirt with a skull on it, and (after quickly checking on Tera, who was blessedly still asleep.) He rushed back to the bathroom, eyes landing on Uzi, he smiled and lifted the shirt, which she slowly snatched and pulled over her head lazily.

And with that, she was scooped up again and taken off to bed, of which she didn't even have the chance to complain about; she was already in sleep mode by the time N pulled a blanket over them.

Next ->

[itslouisan]

((@leticiachaos on twitter))

Time for Q!Tallulah headcannons!!

Fair warning: this post has mentions of depression, abandonment issues, trust issues, poor living conditions; all of the mentions of Wilbur are ONLY mentions to his character not the real person.

• Due to her abandonment and trust issues, Tallulah created a tough and cold exterior not opening herself to anything new, but, if you manage to break the shell, she's sweet, caring, loyal, nice, creative, the loveliest egg possible

• She likes Richas, but has jealousy, after all he came AFTER her and still has most of the island around him and ADOPTING HIM??? While SHE had to ground herself to an empty promise of a returning loving father and feeling alone most of the time "without" a "real" family to comfort her.

• Due to her time in the attic Tallulah developed anemia due to not having for a long time the necessary nutrients and surviving off of dirt.

• She hates the smell of moss, dirt and related things despite loving botany due to her time in the attic

Black: depression, extreme anger, sorrow or loneliness, it's her way of expressing she's REALLY not feeling okay

• When she finally accepted Wilbur would never come back or be the father she wished and dreamt of, she cut her hair that was long since "hair holds memories", painted her hair black since Missa is Philza's partner and is more of a father to her than Wilbur could ever be and she was tired of holding herself to a small memory instead of accepting change and happiness

• Can't really vent not because her family wouldn't listen, but because of her trust issues and before having to be the "cute innocent girl who's there for everyone" she didn't have the space to vent and put her emotions first

• She was tired of her original red beanie matching Wilbur, it was too dirty and old, deciding to pick a purple one who matched her and a few mushroom hats to express her emotions

• Each color of mushroom represent an emotion (in canon I think she only had black and purple, but I expanded it considering there's a lot more patterns and colors of mushrooms, especially in a sort of magic island)

purple: neutral, calm, it's the regular she wears all the time

Pink: love, happiness, she's feeling creative or excited over something, possibly wanting or doing stims

Blue: shows more of "little" sadness, not strong enough to be depression or despair, but just enough to show it, also can mean fear.

Red: anger, hate.

• Due to her autism, she carries a pair of headphones ALL the time as well as stim toys, comfort objects or plushies, a sketchbook she writes and draws what she's feeling to better communicate it.

• She can play maracas, flute, piano, guitar (acoustic), kalimba.

• Big fan of musicals and history, in late nights she likes to listen to Philza's stories of the old times and Chay loves his battle stories, so they share this cozy moment

• In the beginning she could only see ghosts, but with time she could see the deities. She can see and feel their emotions but can't talk with them much, she mainly can see Mumza and Rose, Rose in the sanctuary where her power is centered and stronger, Mumza all around her dad (Phil >:) ) and every time she's with the crows.

• Knows flower language to write better letters to everyone, adding a deeper meaning, sometimes saying secret stuff through the flowers and as an extra giving pretty flowers

• Tallulah sometimes paints her nails with Phil and Chayanne, every week with a different design

• When Missa is home back from his journeys, Tallulah sees how exhausted her dad is, so she speaks in spanish (their native languages) and makes him some food or brings fruit

• Before she officially forgot Wilbur whenever she would come with other residents and her siblings, Tallulah sometimes felt weak, abandoned, left behind, after all, ALL the others had their parents, had close connections, she hated it but couldn't help but feel jealous, in these situations Phil and Chayanne always reassured her the best they could that they would never leave her and that she wouldn't go back to the attic.

• Makes bracelets for her close family, always wearing one with PxTxC on her left hand (Philza, Chayanne and Tallulah), in the right one she has a TxCxR (Tallulah, Richas, Chayanne) or it could be TxCxP (Tallulah, Chayanne, Pomme) after all she doesn't hate Richas, she hates that he's immature and acts "entitled" and dramatic over his issues, but still tries her best to be a good sister to him, also loves pomme a lot!! Considering Pomme her bestie

Reminder: Tallulah is just a child in rp, children don't know how to control their emotions and in situations of abandonment, neglect and lack of a trusting bond with a caretaker, children can struggle even more with emotions, care, jealousy, trust, self-esteem etc, so don't call Tallulah "selfish" or "spoiled" she has every right to be that way after what she's been through

• Due to her depression,sometimes Tallulah can't take care of herself, spending days or weeks in bed or just not feeling like going out, or when she does she doesn't show much interest, in these cases Phil and Chayanne always cooked some nice food and drinks, went to the nests, and chatted and comforted her

• She became a great fighter after the events of pre-purgatory and purgatory, she NEEDED a tough exterior since she was without Chayanne, and that time worsened her depression severely

[sodatabs-ontherun]

hello!

☆°hello I'm soda tabs!°☆

♤I go by they/he/ve/vem/void/voidthem (may change I'm gender fluid)♤

This blog is for my silly alterhuman stuff

Tags I use

Quaddrobics: jumping silly

Alterhuman rants: the cat is screaming

Mask/gear: cat made art

○☆My kin types are:

Theriotypes: grey wolf, fox (x2), African wild dog, aussie herding dog, tiger, house cat, mink, elk, snowy owl, ox, vampire bat, loin, koi fish, cheeta, clown fish,jipsy vanner horse, otter,crow, dolfin, spider, dingo, snake, whale shark,coyote

Other kin types: angel

Fictionkins:sandwing, nightwing, seawing, sentinels (md) livi (md oc) lizzy (md), cyn (md), n(md) key bugs (md) j (md) nifty (hazbin hotel) drift loom, nori (murder drones) Caine tadc

Plant kins:weeping willow, pumpkin, vernus fly trap,Marimo moss ball

Concept kin: liminal space, Halloween conspet kin,

Song link/kin: ghost rule, the vampire, anonymous m, bite me, this. P3t (by femtanyl)

Coping link/kin: beanie baby, pomni

°•☆51 in all☆•°

Questioning:,lilly pad, toucan, song birds, duck, jelly fish, death angel, godkin, hatsune miku, tulip Caine (tadc)

☆•I do have past lives and things!•☆

If you have any questions ask via ask, or just statements in general,

And pedophiles, zoophiles, antis, Transphobes, homophobes, and all that fun will be blocked from my blog (Get away from me lol)

Please don't send me realistic pictures of insects or spiders and all that jazz (alive or dead) I'm ok with cartoons tho ♡

DNI IF YOU HAVE A NFSW BLOG OR ANYTHING WEIRD, especially on my quads vids I wanna keep myself safe from that kinda stuff

Dni if you discriminate against age

Example: "your 12 just shut up"

°•☆This is my other ask blog bc I'm a oc kin lol so check it out if you like lol☆•°

https://www.tumblr.com/livi-is-a-silly-guy

This is my indie show that I'm making and would love for yall to check it out!♡♡♡♡

♡☆○°have fun°○☆♡

[ghoulogist]

Things that remind me of the band ghouls, Pt.3:

Mountain:

Moss climbing through stone walls

Splintering drumsticks

Platforms(only way to even get close to his level)

The typical stoner stereotype minus the beanie

Little leaves getting caught in your hair

Meticulously organized and marked out herb gardens

Worn down jeans

Little golden charms

[peterfields]

Get inspired! Today with...

-Fisherman's Musette in Suede musk and Fisherman's Musette XS in Suede tobacco by @bleudechauffe

-Lambswool Blanket - beige/ecru by @johnhanly1893

-Le Grand Bonnet Beanie - orange peel by @lebonnetamsterdam

-Socks Wool Bungalow - beige by @chupsocks

-Teatowel Piano moss by @charveteditions

-Small Clip / Large Clip, Heavy Copper Mug - recycled and Marble Bowl by @puebco_europe

-Compass Caddy by @thesocietyinc

-Coin Case, Leather Pen Case and Leather Pen by @the_superiorlabor

-Solid Brass Keyhook and Anchor by @smoky_sumis_store_

#worldwideshipping 📦

[google-searchhistory-official]

What if I just throw myself headfirst into a moss stitch crochet beanie with no prior experience

[late-to-the-party-81]

Sweet Spring Showers

AN: This fic is for Beanie���s Double-Trouble Sleepover #rolling into spring writing challenge. I tried to make it dark, @springdandelixn by my characters refused. Enjoy the smut instead.

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board and banner by me.

Master list

Relationship: Queen’s Handmaiden Reader x Prince Loki

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: More fluff than was intended, flirting and banter, casual sex, smut (inc Oral - f receiving, Unprotected PinV sex, fast recovery) Loki has a ‘King/God’ kink, various mentions of norse mythology.

You tripped down the palace steps into the garden, the soft fabric of your dress flowing behind you. It had been a busy morning, and you needed to take a break from your duties as one of the Queen’s maids. Spring was finally here, and the weather was now warm enough to go for walks without having to bundle up first. 

As somewhat of a free spirit, you resented the time it took in the Winter to get ready, impatient to just get on with what you wanted to do. Anything that interrupted your ideas and plans was met with a scornful look and mumbling under your breath, much to the disappointment of Queen Frigga, who still hoped you could be transformed into a proper lady. You were lucky that she liked you, or you’d have been kicked out of your position years ago.

You wound your way down the paths, entranced by the early blooming flowers, striving to cover the garden in a blanket of cover. Birds chirped, and you watched them fly to and fro with small twigs and clumps of moss as they set out to build their nests. The sun was high in the sky, and as you stepped under its rays, you felt them warm your skin. The sensation made you smile. Spring really was your favourite season, bringing with it the promise of renewal and new life.

You wandered further, away from the formal gardens and into the more natural area behind them. Thin dirt paths led in every direction, deep into the trees. You knew from experience that they led towards pergolas, follies, and love seats, places to rest and take in the beauty of nature. You decided to head towards your favourite of these places, which was also the most out of the way one. If anyone wanted to find you, to get you to carry out some tedious task, it would take them a while and give you more time to yourself.

Your movements were graceful as you half-walked, half-skipped down the track, skirts still billowing and fluttering in the breeze. You plucked the odd flower here and the odd flower there, placing them into your hair like a crown.

“Beautiful, as always, my dear.”

You let out a startled shriek and spun on your heel, only to find the grinning face and sparkling eyes of Prince Loki fixed on you. He walked out from between the trees with languid movements, a feline-like grace. It was one of the many ways he was different from his brother, Prince Thor. Light and dark. Broad and slim. Loud and quiet. Brash and considered.

You dropped into a deep curtsy, keeping your eyes trained on his black leather boots. 

“Your Highness.”

“Oh, get up, please. There’s just the two of us here, in the most informal setting ever.”

You looked up at him as you stood back up.

“Much better,” he purred. “If I ever desire you to kneel, dove, you’ll know about it.”

You raised your hand in front of your face and giggled at his implication.

“I have no doubt that you have any number of people ready to kneel for you, Highness.”

He raised his eyebrow and smirked before offering the crook of his arm towards you. You bobbed a small curtsy and, with a smile, looped your arm into his. You both started to stroll down the track, further into the woodland.

“The problem with that, dove, is that it’s boring. Where is the fun, the excitement, when everyone is willing to bend over backwards to do what you want?”

“Nice problem to have, though.” 

Loki chuckled.

“Are you telling me that you don’t have the same problem?”

It was your turn to smirk.

“Me? I’m just a maid, and you’re a prince. I won’t lie, I get my fair amount of attention, but probably nothing compared to you.”

“I fear my mother would have an aneurysm if she knew I was talking to one of her trusted servants about such improper things.”

“You’re beloved mother would roll her eyes and then quietly chastise me - I am known to be the least lady-like of her ladies.”

You let go of his arm and skipped in front of him, spinning around and throwing your arms up in the air.

“She despairs of me, but luckily, I’m her favourite. I just find it difficult to hold my tongue when someone says or does something stupid.”

Loki reached out and snagged your hand and lifted both your arms, twirling you under them.

“How could anyone tame such a nymph as you? I must say you look a lot happier out here than when I’ve seen you by my mother’s side.”

His smile was warm, and you blossomed under it like a flower beneath the sun. Most of the folk who approached you did so in hope of taking advantage of your influence with the Queen. Not that you had much - those people always imagined you had her right ear and were able to manipulate policies and treaties, which was ludicrous. The only thing you could sway was which dress and jewels she wore, and even then you’d say your success rate was less than 50%.

It was nice though, to have a conversation with someone who had no ulterior motive for being nice to you. It wasn’t as though you’d be able to help advance a member of the royal family. His tone was light and flirty, and he was exceedingly charming, and it was fun to have some harmless fun. It’s not like he was really interested. Probably just doing the same as you and escaping the stuffiness of both the palace and your individual roles.

Somehow, when you’d come back to his side, you’d ended up with his arm over your shoulder. You couldn’t say that you minded. It brought you closer to him, and you could smell the scent that was distinctly Loki; leather, sandalwood, and a perfumed musk. It was obvious that he cared for his appearance, but he didn’t primp or overdo it.

“So, is that what brings you out here, Nymph? My mother’s despair?”

“Oh no - not today, well at least not yet. I was going mad being trapped inside over Winter, so now that Spring is raising its head, I decided to venture forth and bask in her beauty.”

“Well that decision was fortuitous, as it allows me to bask in yours.”

With a giggle, you bumped your shoulder up against his side. He really was fun to be around.

“And, if I may ask, my Prince, why are you out here today?”

He squeezed your shoulder with his hand, and you were hyper-aware of the way his long, tapered fingers dug gently but firmly into your flesh. A rush of images raced through your mind, and you fought hard to squash them down.

“Anything is better than listening to my father try to teach my brother about affairs of state. While Thor is very skilled at a lot of things, diplomacy and negotiation are not his strong suites, but you didn’t hear that from me, Nymph.”

You smiled and mimed locking your lips with a key. When he smiled back and brushed your forehead with his lips, you almost expired.

“So where are we wandering too? I take it you had a destination in mind?”

Loki’s question drew you back from the meandering of your own mind.

“Oh? Yes. I quite like the little summer house that’s a bit further down the track. If the weather is inclement, it provides just the right amount of cover, but when it is nice and sunny, it provides useful shade.”

Just then, you shivered, bumps coming up on your bare arms. As you peered up through the canopy of branches above you, you saw that a rather large, grey cloud had come over.

“Oh dear. I think we might need that shelter. That’s the problem with Spring; the weather can turn so quickly.”

The moment the words left your mouth, a large raindrop landed on the end of your nose with a large ‘plop’. Then the floodgates opened. One moment it was dry, the next it felt as though someone was trying to dump a bucket of water over you. 

You screeched and with your hands over your head, ineffectually trying to keep your hair dry, you raced down the path, toward your destination. You heard Loki’s footsteps right behind you and the pair of you virtually tumbled through the wooden doors of the summer house, laughing heartily. However, you were now in the shade and with your clothes and skin sodden, you couldn’t repress your shiver of cold. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to warm up, only to realise that your gauzy dress had turned almost entirely see-through due to the water. The fabric clung to your legs, hips and decolletage, highlighting your soft curves, as well as causing a chill to settle deep into your skin.

You realised that Loki was no longer laughing either, and you looked toward him, only to be trapped in the green of his eyes. They drew you in as they also devoured your form. You were aware of the drumming of the rain on the sloped wooden roof of your shelter. You were aware of the gentle ‘plop’ noise as water rolled off his leathers. You were aware of the delicate movement of his fingers as he took off his emerald cape. You were aware of the beating of your heart as he stepped even closer and threw the sumptuous fabric around your shoulders, drawing you nearer. You were aware of his soft breath as it warmed your chilled lips.

“You are cold, Nymph. Will you let me warm you?”

His voice permeated your senses as if you were in a dream; warm, soft, all-encompassing. There was a tension to the air, but one as delicate as a cobweb. One wrong move, and it would all collapse, leaving virtually nothing in its wake. You took a half step closer, barely a sliver of air separating you.

“Please…” Your whispered plea had barely left you when his lips descended to yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your middle. Your own fingers slid up to his wet hair, tangling in his ebony tresses as you opened yourself to him. He was full of passion, of a strength you’d never imagined, given his usual behaviour, but it was intoxicating, pulling you under his spell.

“Your Highness! Please!” 

You breathed your plea into his mouth, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the prominent bulge in his leather trousers. His hands slid down your back, over the swell of your buttocks, to grasp at your soft thighs, lifting you with his godly strength and taking a few strides to place you down on the small couch. 

He continued to kiss you while his clever fingers dealt with the clasps of your dress, peeling the damp fabric away from your skin and exposing it to the cool air. Your nipples immediately hardened at the sensation, and then you gasped as his hands moved to your breasts, and his thumbs skimmed over the stiffened peaks.

Your own questing fingers pulled ineffectually at his clothes, the leather failing to yield to you. You both heard and felt Loki chuckle, and with a flash of his green seidr, his clothes disappeared. He pulled his lips from yours, leaning back and baring his alabaster skin to your gaze before grinning and then latching back onto the soft flesh of your neck. You moaned at the pleasure and wiggled your lower half, assisting him in fully removing your clothes. The fabric landed on the wooden floor with a wet ‘splat’, but you were now too focused on other things to care. 

Like the warmth from Loki’s lips as they trailed down your next and across your collarbone. Like how one hand rested on your thigh,  and his fingers, despite their gentle grip, felt like a brand, marking you as his. Like how the other hand rested, oh so teasingly, on your mound, his index finger toying with the thatch of curls that grew there. Things like how the muscles of his back and chest felt under your eager fingers. He may have been the slimmer of the two brothers, but he was still made of solid muscle, firm and strong.

As Loki trailed his lips down your body, you moaned and squirmed, eager to feel him more intimately.

“Patience, my Nymph. I don’t want to heat you up too fast.”

Part of you wanted to scream at him, but part of you never wanted this to end. You weren’t stupid - this was only a tryst - a way to pass the time and work out frustrations, so you wanted to commit every second to memory.

Loki’s lips on your inner thigh, his nose grazing against your folds had your back arching, your hands firmly back in his hair now. He teased you for what felt like forever, his breath warming your core and promising so much. You threw your legs over his shoulders, trying to urge him to move forward and put you out of your misery.

“Who am I to you, dove?”

His question surprised you, and you lifted your head as he lifted his eyes, full of confusion.

“Your Highness?”

His fingers started to circle your opening with a feather-like touch, and you whined.

“It’s a simple question, my dear. Who am I to you?”

“You are my Prince, your Highness.”

His lips twitched up with a wry smile as his eyes sparkled like the most priceless emeralds.

“Just a prince? Could a man who was only a prince make your heart beat like the hooves of Sleipnir running along the Bifrost? Could a prince make your cunt weep as Freyja wept when she was left alone by Óðr for months on end?

Oh!

Realisation dawn in your lust-fogged mind.

“No, a Prince could not do that. Which means you are my King, Highness. My God.”

“Yes, Nymph. That I am. And I will show you a glimpse of Vahalla.”

He lowered his head again, fastening straight onto your clit, pulling it between his lips and suckling on it. The fingers that had been teasing your entrance slipped deftly inside you, and you keened. Not only was he pleasuring you with no ulterior motive, but he was actually pleasuring you, something that the majority of your previous lovers either weren’t good at, or didn’t care about. No wonder he was nicknamed ‘Silvertongue’.

Loki’s fingers and lips explored you, learning what made you tremble and what made you cry out under him, and when you unintentionally tugged at his hair, he went where you lead, taking you towards that high heady peak, where the oxygen was thin, causing you to go dizzy before you fell off the edge, your body wracked with ecstasy. You cried out his name, over and over, the only word your mind could remember.

“There you go, dove. That’s it. You came so beautifully for me.” 

A warmth spread through you at his praise, and you opened your arms, inviting him back into your embrace. You needed to feel him near you, feel his weight on you. You longed to envelop him with your body and return the pleasure he had gifted you. He smiled impishly and crawled up your body, trailing kissing up your heated skin, and when he reached your face, he recaptured your lips, letting you taste your own release. His cock nudged your thigh, and you shifted, wordlessly encouraging him to take what he wanted from you.

Without warning, Loki flipped the pair of you, and you found yourself straddling him as his back lay against the soft couch.

“Are you ready to please your king? Fuck yourself on my cock, and make us both feel good.”

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you nodded with faux shyness and looked down.

And got your first proper view of his cock.

For a moment you froze, partly from concern, but mostly from want. You wanted, no needed, him inside you. You could almost imagine the delicious stretch, the immense fullness, and your cunt wept more for him at just the thought.

Your hand wrapped around him, learning him as he’d learnt you. You felt every ridge, every vein, and teased his slit with your thumb. When he let out a hiss, you smirked, feeling pride in your chest at making him lose his composure, albeit briefly.

“Norns! You are testing my patience, Nymph. Don’t keep your king waiting…”

You smiled, as mischievous as he’d been only a few minutes previously.

“Good things come to those who wait, Your Highness.”

However, despite your words, you gave in to his entreaties. You rose up on your knees and with your hand, positioned him at your entrance. You teased both of you for a moment, swirling his broad head through your wetness before, spurred on by a brief growl, you slowly let yourself sink down.

The stretch was as good as you’d imagined, and you had to bounce slowly and gently to ease him inside of you. You did so with your head thrown back, your hands holding your own breasts while Loki’s hands gripped your waist, steadying you. When your inner thighs met his hips, you moaned at how deep he was inside you. You lowered a hand to rest on his firm chest, steadying yourself.

“You are definitely a God, Highness. No Prince, no mere mortal, could fill me like this.” His eyes flashed with triumphant amusement, pleasure at you indulging his whims.

Slowly, you rose up, letting him slide from the clutch of your cunt until only the tip remained, teasing your sensitive entrance, before sliding back down to feel him fully again. You repeated the movement, and while your intention was to make it last, the feeling was too intoxicating, and within moments you were riding him fast and hard.

Loki didn’t seem to mind though - if his expression was anything to go by when you glimpsed it from between your hooded eyelids, he was greatly enjoying your abandon. The hands on your waist tightened, and you hoped he would leave marks, so you would have a physical reminder of this encounter for even longer.

With each upwards movement of your body, his thick cock stroked over your walls, and with each counter-movement, his tip nudged over that spot inside you, and the neat thatch of hair at his base scratched wonderfully over your engorged clit. You could feel your orgasm approaching once more, and your movements became more frantic.

When Loki sat up, pulling you to him and burying his head in your chest to suckle on your breasts, you were done for. The pleasure barreled into you, knocking you back off that cliff edge, leaving you a trembling and mewling mess in his strong arms. The world tilted once again, and you felt the soft sofa fabric at your back before your entire focus became how Loki was now rutting into you with hard, feral strokes, chasing his own high. With a shout, he threw his head back, and you saw the veins in his neck pulse in time with his cock that was buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you had an unobstructed view of his torso, and you took the chance to memorise every part that you could see, before he dropped back down, smiling and panting, hips still flush to yours, prolonging the intimacy for as long as possible.

You wound your arms around his neck and smiled back. Coils of his damp hair slid over his shoulder, and a water droplet rolled down a strand to land on your collarbone with a soft ‘splat’. Loki looked at the small puddle on your skin as if becoming aware of both your soaked states for the first time.

“I should fix that.”

Another flash of green and you were both dry. Loki’s hair was now fluffed up around his shoulders. Turning your head towards the sodden pile that was your dress, you saw to your amazement that it was now perfectly dry and neatly folded. You looked back at the Prince and raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just dry us and our clothes off with your magic? Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

He grinned, his expression somewhat sheepish.

“Wouldn’t have been nearly romantic if I had, would it?”

You laughed, unintentionally clenching down on where he was still encompassed by your soft heat. In response, Loki moaned and gave a tentative thrust. 

“Again, Highness? Already?” You were both shocked and aroused by his quick recovery.

“Well, I am a God, Nymph.”

His lips captured yours once more as the spring rain continued to fall outside.

Tag List: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel @animnerd @strangeprincex @mochie85

[dukeofriven]

So I haven't watched Spy Kids for probably 20 years? It came out in 2001, I never saw in theatres, but my stepbrother had it on VHS. I remember watching it several times when my step-mum and father first started dating but never after they moved into a house together, which I think cannot have been any later than 2003. The podcast How Did This Get Made just got me to watch 2004's Sleepover staring Spy Kids' Alex Vega, and it had me going 'man, I should rewatch Spy Kids, a film I used to love—hell I should watch all the Spy Kids movies because I've only ever seen the first and Robert Rodriguez is a director whose work I want to dive into' and since its 2023, with a little bit of effort I can easily do that. (Also, I always thought, based on a vague knowledge of their similar poster design, that Spy Kids 3D and The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl were the same movie, but apparently not! Also, Sharkboy et al. had a 2021 sequel? That was popular? And is getting its own sequel? Will have to investigate.) Thoughts on the opening ten minutes of my Spy Kids rewatch:

This production logo is so ugly it causes me physical pain. I hate this boy with his Kate Moss arms (Miraculous Ladybug arms, for you youngsters out there), his ugly beanie, and unbearable smirk.

Also, the telecine weave on the production logos is very noticeable, they're bouncing all over the place and it got me idly musing as to when more modern image stabilization techniques simply took that away. Not that we really noticed in 2001 because even with auto-tracking, gate-weave and other playback artifacts were just accepted as a given on your eight hundred pound convex CRT TV with 480 Ps of resolution that output enough radiation to kill grandma with a Jeopardy marathon. Do young people know about VHS tracking, auto or otherwise? Does the above paragraph make any sense to them at all? Do they know the pleasures of laying your hand on a still-warm television screen and having your whole body shiver as the static discharge runs through your unresistant flesh? Kids today with their big pants and their blue-tooth hula-hoops and their fancy PSPs just can't understand.

The opening shot of the movie is so under-exposed (or, more likely, over-exposed and then over-corrected in post) that Rodiguez's 'written and directed' credit is unreadable. You can see its blur to the right of the red 'FILM' there. It's so bad I thought there was something wrong with my copy so I... uh... found a new copy with a larger file size and it turns out that, nope, it actually just looks like that. Even in fancy 1080p this is just a terrible ærial shot. There's some fantastic shots and cuts in this film so to open with such a stinker is bizarre. Was it bad coverage that day, only one good shot in the can, did somebody fuck-up the film in the lab? I am curious.

Carla Gugino is so cute in this movie it's criminal. Not to be a lesbian but oh my god oh my fucking god. 12 year-old me was all about Carmen but adult me just wants 90 straight minutes of Carla Gugino in casualwear wandering around her lovely home smiling coyly. I would buy a BluRay player to own that movie on BluRay. I'd not picked-up that she played the mom on The Haunting of Hill House because she had long styled hair instead of this absolutely flawless textured pixie cut. 10/10, no notes.

I would like to spend an hour talking about the incredible tilework in that bathroom and nothing but the incredible tilework in that bathroom. I will update you if the film has any further shots of the incredible tilework in that bathroom but I fear it does not. As as an aside, kind of furious that this film was not more influential in the field of home decor. Two decades of effing shiplap and cold grey suburban blandness—what if we'd given up on bloated cookie cutter micro-mcmansion shitboxes and instead gone all-in on brightly coloured Andalusian rough plaster and stonework? What if we all had great tilework in our bathrooms, like the kitchen sink in Howl's Moving Castle?

You know what I mean, you depraved tile nerds.

I don't want you to think Antonio Banderas is not also a total smokeshow in this movie. Because boy howdy. He's a goddamn hunk.

There's a four-second long shot of Banderas flicking this ring box along the coping of the Eiffel Tower balustrade, and all I can think of how hard it was to get to get that box to stay in a straight line, how completely frictionless the box must be (did he shellac it?), and if his marriage prospects would have been ruined had it—in all rational likelihood—gone flying off the railing and smashed into the Champs de Mars.

You know you're in for a rollicking good time when the helicopter perfectly slices-off the stone heads of the two statues, but it's the padre giving the benediction while attack choppers go roaring over head that gives you chills.

A particular shout-out to this lovely unnamed bridesmaid on the left here who not only takes 'putting a parachute on the bride' in stride but looks gleeful and fabulous doing it. Where's her movie?

In 2001 we really thought computers were going to be cool and fun instead of machines that sold our personal lives to corporations and gave children crippling anxiety disorders.

Carla Gugino has a track built into the floor so that her vanity-computer chair can slide backwards across the room so she can have face-to-face chats with her husband. From this we learn two things: 1) she does this so often she's automated it for maximum efficiency, and 2) Banderos, in an ordinary desk chair, never attempts (or knows better than to attempt?) the reverse. To be continued?

[edupunkn00b]

House Call

Photo by Insung Yoon via Unsplash

Rated: T - WC: 1553 - CW: swearing, medication, vomiting and nausea, terminal illness

Wilson's been away and House goes to investigate.

(For my Sanders Sides friends, there are some familiar archetypes in this material. You might find it worth the read.) -

Thunk-thunk-thwack. Thunk-thunk-thwack. House had swiped this squash ball from Wilson a year, maybe a year and a half ago by now. It had been so long since Jimminy Cricket had been to his office, he still hadn't noticed his theft. Bouncing the ball against against the floor, then the wall, House tilted his chair further. The steady thwacking and the faint creak of his chair nearly drowned out the sound of the latest batch of interns’ greetings. Maybe farewells. He looked out the window and watched the parking lot lights click on. Farewells, then.

Desiccated leaves had collected in Wilson’s parking spot, the cement tire stop now edged in enough moss he could see it from three floors up. Were the maintenance guys even bothering anymore? House stared as a fresh eddy of fall's detritus danced over the vacant spot, one last thwack of rubber against his palm deciding for him.

He put down the ball and picked up the small amber bottle on his desk, then pushed up from his chair.

He had a house call to make.

It took an embarrassingly short time to pick Wilson’s lock. As soon as he opened the door, he was struck with the scent of sickness. Not just the sour-sweet odor of vomit, but plastic and rubbing alcohol, stuffy air and sweat. Pain.

“Working from home, my ass,” he muttered, kicking aside a blue recycling bin overflowing with empty electrolyte bottles. He closed the door with his elbow and the hall was plunged into darkness. After a moment, House’s eyes adjusted, a blueish glow spilling in from the kitchen and a dim splash of yellow from the opposite hall.

He followed the light and was greeted by the unmistakable sound of retching.

“Really tied one on last night, I see,” he said before he stepped into the bathroom. Dressed in a faded Princeton Rowing Crew hoodie and flannel pants, Wilson curled over the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl. “You know you need protein more than electrolytes for a hangov—”

Wilson straightened and looked back at him, eyes bloodshot under a thick woolen beanie. He was jaundiced, skin stretched over the sharp, too, too sharp bones of his face. The flesh around his lymph nodes was red and puffy.

His eyebrows had fallen out.

In the corner next to the trash bin was a small red sharps collector and red plastic bag half-filled with drained IV bags in various sizes. Oh.

“So the cancer doctor gets cancer,” House muttered, eyes narrowed and grip tight on his cane. “‘Medice, cura te ipsum,” he said with a little flurried jazz hand. [Physician, heal thyself.]

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Wilson snapped—no, panted— back at him before falling silent again. House could count the veins in his eyelids, the shadows underneath a dark bruised purple. Cheeks sunken beneath his high cheekbones, his lips trembled, chapped, thin, and pale. He didn’t need a meter to tell him Wilson was hypoxic, most likely from his vomiting and whatever damned cocktail he’d dosed himself with.

Wilson's eyes cracked open and House caught a glimpse of shiny brown before he turned away from him and addressed the collection of bottles laid out on the counter. “Opening up a pharmacy?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to get a side gig.” If it weren’t for Wilson sounding so fucking broken, they could’ve been bickering in his office about Cuddy’s latest HR memo. “Metastatic cancer treatment’s expensive.”

“You’d get a better margin turning tricks. Though you’d have to keep from puking on your johns.” House scowled down at the empty glass vial in his hand before tossing it in the sink. He picked up a large amber bottle and turned to glare at Wilson. “You’re combining talquetamab and nilutamide?”

He barely shrugged.

House stared. Wilson’s eyes had fallen closed again, head lolling against the side of the shower. He looked so…

“Get up.” House snapped and hobbled across the room. He leaned hard on his cane, the tip wedged into the corner of the tub and the wall. Keeping his weight on his good, well, his better leg, he reached for Wilson’s upper arm.

Wilson’s eyes shot open, darting and wild, softening only once he focused on House’s face. He’d fallen asleep. Or, given the mix of chemicals he was marinating in, more likely lost consciousness. “Still me,” House muttered and grabbed his arm. His whole hand wrapped around Wilson’s bicep. “You should be in bed.”

Eyes closing, he shook his head and fumbled blindly at the tank before his arm dropped back in his lap. The meaning was clear. 

“Nope.” House didn’t let go of his arm. “I’ll bring you a bucket. Now come on, Dr. Wilson—” The catch in his throat was nothing more than the jolt of pain that shot through his hip as he helped him to his feet. Wilson had always been trim, annoyingly light on his feet. Now, though? Now he was like a bird, hollow-boned and just as fragile.

Wilson’s bedroom didn’t have much furniture. A bed and a nightstand. A tiny desk littered with marked up and flagged medical journals and thick, ominous envelopes from the hospital staff’s insurance company. There was an IV stand next to the bed and a cooler emblazoned with Property of Princeton-Plainsboro in big, red letters. The bedding was twisted, the comforter half-draped over the floor. Between the late hour and the pajamas, House guessed Wilson had been hoping to sleep off the meds. When did that ever work?

House waited to speak again until he’d gotten Wilson settled under his covers, a plastic-lined pail next to his bed, and a fresh bag of saline drip, drip, dripping its way into his arm. “You mind?” he said after sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. Besides the desk chair across the room, there was some fluffy Edwardian number that looked like he’d managed to free from the grip of his ex-wife’s claws. It also looked like it weighed more than Wilson did and House wasn’t delusional enough to try to drag it over just for the sake of propriety.

Wilson didn’t answer, but he let his hand rest in the space between them. House drummed his fingers against his cane grip before blurting out, “How long?”

Deep chocolate eyes searched his. He’d broken capillaries in his sclera, maybe even a little opportunistic conjunctivitis for flavor. Wilson tried to hold his gaze. “‘Til I’m dead?”

“I don’t need an oncologist to tell me that.” House cleared his throat and refocused. It was easier to watch the pulsepoint between his eyebrows. “How long were you planning on keeping this a secret? It’s been, what…” He lifted Wilson’s hand, forefinger and thumb meeting around his bony wrist. “Eighteen months?” Wilson looked away, a huff of laughter turning into a rattling cough. 

House waited until he'd stopped and wiped his mouth with the cloth on the nightstand. But he didn’t let up. “Your last annual was six months ago and you’re too far along for that to have been when you caught this.”

“Twenty-three,” Wilson muttered, head heavy on the pillow. “Found a mass in the shower.”

“Two years?” He stabbed his cane against the floor. “Two years!?” Wilson still wouldn’t look at him. Two fucking years. That was… that just after Amber and… “God dammit, Wilson, you idiot! You’ve been hiding this from me for two years? Who else knows?” Who was keeping this from him? Who was helping Wilson hide his sickness?

Wilson didn’t speak.

Anger came easy. “Who. Else. Knows?” House’s voice was low and dangerous and Wilson’s continued silence confirmed it. “Oh…” He looked away, slowly nodding. “Everyone.” His… friend had told everyone he was dying but him.

“No-one,” Wilson whispered, fingers grazing the edge of House’s sleeve. “If I couldn’t tell you…” House watched Wilson’s hand as it fell against his own, words not making any sense. “There was no-one to tell.”

“Bullshit. If you’re not going to be straight with me—” House pushed on his cane but he couldn’t make himself stand. 

Wilson’s fingers curled against his hand. “Why would I lie now, House?”

“Everyone lies,” He spat back but he didn’t move away. Wilson’s hand was so damn cold. “You’re telling me you didn’t tell Cuddy?”

He sighed, breathe wet and rattling in his lungs. “Would I be here with stolen meds if she knew?” 

“You moron!" He pounded the floor with his cane, punctuating each word. "Why didn’t you…” House's throat seized, choking out the rest of his question. Why didn’t you tell me?

Wordless, Wilson turned his head and closed his eyes. House didn’t need him to actually say it, did he? The rest of his words sat in the air between them, each of them quiet enough he kept time off some clock ticking out in the living room. Wilson was still enough that House thought he might have fallen asleep. He was considering moving over to the chair when Wilson’s eyes cracked open and he turned his hand next to House’s, palm up. An invitation. A request.

“You know now,” Wilson whispered.

The rubbing alcohol he’d used to prepare Wilson’s IV hung in the air, stinging his eyes and drawing out hot, heavy tears. He nodded and took Wilson’s hand. “I know now.”

[toastydoll]

Since rainbow high is getting extremely worrisome w the new line I’ve coped by making my own wave 6 (drumroll please):

Scarlet, Pumpkin, Mustard, Moss, Cornflower, Royal Purple!

Tbh I was just listing off colors I wished we had gotten in a gc and then realized a) they made a rainbow and b) they were all autumnal themed so I made an inadvertent autumnal wave! All with two outfits bc I’m allowed to dream. I want to make them eventually too bc hello my New Year’s resolution is to make more customs than last year.

Scarlett Connell (scarlet red/orange): a multimedia artist with a passion for eco-friendly graffiti, Scarlett Connell hails from the Pacific Northwest. Growing up on the Oregon coast, Scarlett fell in love with thrifting materials from old logging camps and cargo railroads. Her main outfit is a scarlet beanie, a scarlet plaid scarf, a white tank top, a pair of patchwork scarlet overalls, and graffitied scarlet doc martens. Her second outfit is a scarlet oversized flannel, faded rainbow dream t shirt, torn/cuffed scarlet jeans, and short scarlet rain boots. She keeps her makeup subtle save for a bold detail (scarlet tinged lip, blush, natural brows, graphic scarlet eyeliner) and her scarlet hair straight and chin length. Y’all…she’s the red/orange butch doll we’ve all been waiting for.

Paloma Gordon (pumpkin orange): a sweet-as-can-be baking and pastry major from Salem, Massachusetts. Growing up in such an autumnal region made Paloma fall in love with both the flavors and fashions of the season. Her primary outfit is a pair of cropped ankle pumpkin pants, pumpkin crocs, a white chef coat w pumpkin buttons, and a pumpkin orange neckerchief. Her second outfit is a pair of pumpkin plaid woolen pants, a white cable knit sweater w pumpkin detailing, and pumpkin suede booties. Her makeup is soft and warm yet very, very precise: much like her approach in the kitchen, and she keeps her hair in long curly pumpkin orange ringlets, tied back in a high ponytail. I always wished rh would do a baking major since culinary arts are some of the most impressive art forms in the world (we almost got there w poppy).

Amelie “Frenchie” du Mous (mustard yellow): always on point, Frenchie hones all of her high fashion skills from growing up in Paris into a neatly tailored fashion focus. Her primary outfit is a plaid mustard pinafore over a lace trimmed white blouse with bell sleeves, mustard yellow knee high socks, brown heeled oxfords with mustard laces, and a mustard beret trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a pair of knee length mustard plaid shorts w matching suspenders, platform mustard leather loafers, mustard mid calf socks, and a white puffed short sleeved blouse with a mustard plaid bow tie. Her hair is straight and long in two tails. We never got a dark academia girl so here she is to fall in love w scarlet

Ivy Pines (moss green): emerging from the woods for the first time in her life, Ivy is ready to bring her foraging gift to Rainbow High! Her art has always been from the forest around her and her family in Northern California, whether she’s crafting her own dyes or whittling intricate jewelry. Her first outfit is an ombré dip-dyed lace maxi dress (white into moss green) with thin straps, an oversized moss green cardigan, knit to texturally simulate moss (look up moss stitch w this specific rough spin yarn istg it looks just like moss), moss sandals, moss socks, and wooden jewelry with moss jewel accents. Her second outfit is moss green crochet pants, moss flats, and a white peasant top w moss embroidery. Her makeup is natural with mossy green eyeshadow, and her hair is loose beachy waves. She’d come w alt heeled feet but both her shoes would be flat :0. She’s the mori girl we deserved but never actually got.

Corinne St. Germaine (cornflower blue): traveling all the way from Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, Rainbow High is Corinne’s first interaction outside of her hometown’s sixty people. She’s not totally ignorant of the world though—she’s actually huge on the internet! Her fashion style has been dubbed Lolita Americana: gold rush pioneer outfits through a cute girly lens. Her first outfit is a cornflower blue pioneer dress with a knee length hem, high neck collar, long slightly puffed sleeves, and white apron, as well as lace knee high cornflower stockings, cornflower leather ankle boots, and a cornflower bonnet trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a cornflower wool coat, long cornflower wool skirt, and knee high cornflower riding boots. Her hair would have a soft wave and probably be in a half up style, and her makeup would be soft. In a perfect world she’s also got a parasol >:3

Leanna Royale (royal purple): Known for clothing real life royals and only the most fashionable celebrities, the prestigious House Royale has unveiled its latest stride into the fashion world: a daughter named Leanna. Raised from birth on fine art and livery, Leanna is a princess in all but political power. Her first outfit is a polished royal purple velvet pantsuit with a royal satin shirt and purple velvet heeled pumps. Her second outfit is a silk bejeweled minidress, royal purple bejeweled strap heels, and a royal purple fur stole. Her makeup is elegant and refined, complete with a royal purple lip. Her hair is long royal purple locs in an elegant updo, and yes: she has a tiara. She’s every bit of posh violet wishes she could be (/hj)

I’m gonna try and make these! Bases would probably be whatever I can find that’s cheap, though a good visualization I’m going on rn is based on the color create dolls (scarlet and mustard for green eyes, pumpkin and royal for purple eyes, cornflower and moss for blue eyes). Maybe I won’t go so far to do two outfits but I’ll try and at least make one for each :)

[chimerinshine]

I am back and have a week of vacation before...the school day again...ahem anyways, i have a come back also in my childhood short film titled "The Lonesome Ghosts" it was released at the year of 1937. So we will gonna have a topic about them in this day, ya know some fanon thing.

Canonically,

In 1937 short film originally the 4 was called only The Ghosts or Ghosts or Lonesome Ghosts. Which when look in their files it reveals originally in 1937 they have names such as Jasper, Grubb, Boo and Moss but never mentioned in the film. While at other stuff especially at games they have different names and numbers so here's a thing (gonna start with individuals to extras)

👻🎩 Jasper

He is the chubby and tall one (next to the short ghost) he was described as the smartest and leader to the 4. (Canonically)

He also the eldest and matured one

His name was derived from precious stone or precious treasure

At life he was the 1st child of his mother so she adored him so much that's why she give him name Jasper

He always gives commands on his brothers which is the other 3 ghosts

He has a collection of different stones the shiny and the rarest one was his favorites he always keep that into his secret collection room which can be found at the underground floor

As having matured mind he is 50-50 of being a prankster (as we can see in the short film he literally knock on Mickey's head like several times just to annoy him and race him in the 2nd floor)

He just rides on his brothers pranking sides so that they will not think he is a kill joy himself

He is self concious sometimes since Grub was more responsible and looking have good leader ship he always let him lead the stuff.

In his lonesome time he just go to sleep or read some book

As a ghost himself, one of his favorite hobbies is to have some scare

His hat was in Bowler Style

👻🚬 Grubb

He is the shortest ghost and love to fish in sardines (well ain't that weirdly cute) (canonically)

Even though it is true that he is short he just hate to be called that especially when you mention him the word "Cute size" or "Beanie" so what he gonna do to ya if that happens? Well he will float or just add some level with his brothers back and give you a slap and smoke out of ya

In his lonesome moments, he just entertain himself by fishing on the sardines when you look at the can is either empty and has cobwebs on it which is...weird.. sometimes he just watch the Grubs crawls over or make them have a grub race

He also the 2nd eldest in the group and more matured than others

He is the most responsible on them and takes the lead the most

In his other hobbies he love to get in the old trees or logs to collect some grubs yes it derives from his name too (small, squishy worm)

Some of his grubs has names especially the rarest ones

Just like his brothers he is a prankster, how he make pranks well by physically pranking livings (like literally in short film the poor Donald was hit in his Duck Butt several times and been spit by a cold water)

His tabacco the little cigarette thing was infinite and unlimited like no matter what you do in it it just keeps popping a new how? Well for example if he goes to a place where smoking isn't allowed and he still wanted it and ya get rid of it he just gonna pull out a new like he literally carries it

His hat was Stovepipe Style

👻⛓Boo

He is the one who scares off Donald in the film (canonically)

From his name Boo he is most who love to scare livings

He has a bad attitude but he can be sometimes nice

He love pranking people by making loud noises ON. PURPOSEEE..(the more louder the scarier and more funnier to him)

He is the 3rd one in the group talk about middle child he is

His hobby is take someone's dishes and grab some chains just to use it for his pranks not on some chores. Make him do chores he will say yes but with a mess

In his lonesome times he just spent his own time on cards a self solitaire thing

He was good making scary laughs and so ghostly stuffs but never good at making good at all

His twin brother is only couple minutes older but he consider himself as older than him

His hat was on Top Hat Style

👻⛰Moss

He is the 4th one and the youngest of the group

He is a complete opposite of his twin brother.

In 4 of them, he is quiet and all nice

Even he is a ghost secretively he has passion inside (a little sprinkle of symphaty and emphaty) well only for his brothers

He is an introvert and immature

In lonesome time, he has a rock collection and draw a face on it and let a moss grew on it just like a pet he talks to them or he just grab some new paper and read on it (canonically)

His hobbies is to collect different fungus, mushrooms especiallt moss. Is either he collects it to eat it or just make it as a pet

In all his good attitude on brothers he is very mean just like his brothers he love to mock and copies others as prank. Especially when he believes...they are..stupid (just like he did in the film on poor Goofy he mocks him and pull him and yeah roll him down)

With his immature behavior he is like the toddler who is trying to mess with you

He always get Grub get in his back if Grub wanted to be tall or level in someone

He wears a hat top hat style

👻Extras:

•Moss and Boo are twins and somewhat opposite

When Moss forget about his rocks or left it somewhere when Boo finds it he takes it with him and throw it in the nearest lake he can find

Jasper sometimes can be greedy

Actually all of them can be mean and greedy since they never learn to socialize at all

They got invited in Haunted Mansion but they never actually came from some reason (Almost Canonically)

They all biologically brothers

Their parents live in the Haunted Mansion around somewhere

As we can see in the game called Epic Mickey not 1 2 or 3 or 4 ghosts are there but more than 4 and they all look the same you can't even tell which one or who is who their names is Ian, Screeching Sam, Gilbert and so forth (Canonically)

Their family numbers might be like the Beagles (Canonicallyy?)

Since they are ghosts they can be neutral like can be on good side or bad side

They afraid of what opposites them (being a cutie) (canonically in The Wonderful World Of Mickey Mouse episode)

They sometimes forgetting they are ghost too or they just afraid in more scarier and sinister ghosts

Their deaths is still a mystery is either they also murdered by the Hat Box Ghost or Died in cold or they just otyer supernatural creature who takes forms

In their mansion they had everything in control well as a toony ghosts ofc why not?

They are 50-50 on being mean and friendly but most mean

From their title LONESOME they get easily to be bored and when they find someone interesting they just prank them and scare them especially living

Since they are ghosts and already dead they don't feel pain at all or don't need to consume at all or take bath or what. But if they wanted to or just playing along they have to consume and feel pain

Sometimes as a pranksters they don't really understand what is pain or danger is cause..ya know they already dead they like immortals unlike a being they need to becareful and save lives. While to them they just being careless on livings