#pandora wilson didn't ask for this

[sleeplesssmoll]

Here's a crack-pot drabble about Pandora Wilson trying to figure out Vertin's scent for her magazine:

Pandora Wilson recorded the scent profile of every arcanist she interviewed. These scents were unique to each arcanist since they were embedded into their genes. You can tell a lot about one's build if you know how to decipher each note, layer, and interaction with other scents. Her interviewees tend to agree with her descriptions. However, there's one individual she can't pinpoint despite their many meetings.

She didn't mean to start the argument but she had no intention of being the one to end it.

“White musk and clean cotton,” Regulus said. “Like a soap bubble, but cuddly.” She turned to Pandora. “I'm her best friend! Of course I know what I'm talking about.”

“The Timekeeper smells like rose and vanilla,” Sonetto said from her spot against Vertin's shoulder. “I'm always with her so my answer is the most accurate.” The Timekeeper's assistant has a point. These two are closer every time she sees them.

“Ms. Vertin smells like a freshly powdered baby,” Apple said.

The subject of the debate set down her tea. “What does that mean?”

“You know, clean and sweet and soft…” Apple elaborated. He sounds like a nostalgic old man on the verge of tears talking about his granddaughter.

Pandora tapped her pen against her page. “I think I get what you're trying to say, but that's too vague. We need to be more specific.” So far they've all associated Vertin with scents considered fresh or clean. Something gentle. But how would that translate as a scent?

Vertin turned to her mentor. “Do we have any?”

“Have any what?” Madam Z asked.

“Babies. I still have no idea what they're talking about.”

“I'm afraid we've been out of infants since you grew up. You were a special case.”

“Have you tried checking the back?” Regulus said.

“I'm sorry, are we talking about babies or cans of soup?” Blonney asked. “Besides, you're all wrong. “She smells like a cat that's been sitting in the sun.”

“I feel like we're drifting further away from progress,” Pandora said.

“And I still have no idea what a baby smells like,” Vertin added.

“Where do babies come from away?” All heads snapped toward Sonetto. “W-was that a weird question?” Poor thing. She hid her face against Vertin's shoulder, only showing her red ears.

Vertin put a comforting arm around her. “If we had one of our own we'd both have our answers.”

Pandora’s pen sprawled straight through her notes. Vertin's not a child anymore but–

“Vertin! We have company,” Madam Z said, her face pale. “I swear, you get this from Tooth Fairy…”

The woman in question spawned at the drop of her name. “Did you call for me, Z? Oh, hello Pandora. How are you?”

For the first time in years, Pandora Wilson was at a loss for words.

[umflowers]

Hiii! For that ask game 1, 41, 48, 71, 94 and 96! Have a great day ahead!

heya! thanks so much for the ask, love 💜 1. spotify, soundcloud, or pandora? i actually don't use any of them, but my personal music library is 5,000+ songs/304 hours of music :) 41. top 10 favorite songs? ever? this took like an hour and i'm sure my answers would vary slightly day-to-day, but i actually feel this is pretty accurate: 1 (always): bob dylan - desolation row 2: the amity affliction - pittsburgh 3. simon & garfunkel - the sound of silence 4. buckethead - soothsayer (or this extraordinary live version) 5. janis joplin - little girl blue 6. yiruma's river flows in you 7. alison krauss and robert plant - killing the blues 8. bring me the horizon - shadow moses 9. dooley wilson - as time goes by (the original from casablanca) 10. jeff buckley - hallelujah honorable mentions: anything by buffalo springfield & feels like rain by buddy guy 48. who is your role model? my husband. at 14 years old he had the strength of character to not walk away from a scared and broken girl when no one would have blamed him, and i haven't gone a day of my life in 19 years where i didn't feel loved, appreciated, and understood 💖 or, in terms of famous people, zdeno chara, seb, and lewis 71. tea or coffee? coffee 🤎 94. favorite lyrics right now? the entirety of shadow moses by bring me the horizon 96. day or night? truthfully it doesn't matter to me, i'm often awake through many hours of both, blackout shades drawn either way x) ask me questions!

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

In My Veins (1/?)

House, M.D. Fanfic

This story takes place after the end of the series, following Wilson's death. Sorry, it had to be done for story purposes. If you've read my other fic, you know I'm a Huddy fan. This will be very Huddy. Maybe I can give them a better ending than the show.

Obviously, I don't own the show or characters. If I did, Huddy would have had a happier ending. Also, the title is based on the song "In My Veins" by Andrew Belle, which I don't own either. I highly recommend looking it up and giving it a listen. It just feels Huddy for me in regards to this story.

A huge thank you to @love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie for taking all of my crazy ideas and giving me honest feedback on all of my Huddy stuff, and for analyzing them with me!

This story is not as fleshed out on paper as it is in my head and will definitely be slower to update than my other fic, but it is still very much being worked on. This one is just more complicated. Please bear with me, and I hope you like what I've done! As always, feedback and comments are welcome. This story isn't as unchangeable, so predictions or something you might like to see or analyzing things are welcome too. It might be something I hadn't thought of yet.

She'd known she'd find him here. She'd known he would come after everyone else had left. She needed to see him. She just needed to know that he was okay. Her car showed to a stop, and when she got out, she saw the all too familiar figure of the man who had broken her heart... the man she couldn't help but still be in love with.

"I heard you were dead," she stated evenly as she approached the gravesite.

"I am." The familiar voice hadn't startled him. But he was very surprised she was there... and even more surprised that she didn't seem surprised to see him. "I only had you and Wilson. You left. Wilson died. Now I've got nothing," he murmured lowly after a few moments. It was useless to try hiding everything from her. She knew him almost as well as he knew her. She would wait him out until he broke. She had more patience than Wilson where he was concerned.

"I left because you drove a car through my dining room!"

"You left before that."

"When we broke up," she realized. She had expected this conversation. She'd been preparing for it the entire week before the funeral.

He just gave her a silent look. "You're not surprised to see me," he commented, looking away from her.

She just looked at him. And he could tell. "Wilson told you I wasn't really dead."

---flashback---

She stood there staring at the fresh grave, feeling... she wasn't sure what exactly she was feeling. What was she even supposed to feel? Hurt? Anger? Grief? A sense of loss bigger than she wanted to admit, bigger than she'd thought possible. When she first heard she was numb. She didn't want to believe it. There was no way the man who had caused her so much grief, who she had watched pull through so many other life threatening instances, was dead. She'd actually come to believe he was too damn stubborn to die. And then she found a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips, despite her best efforts, as she heard the all too familiar voice of the man in question echoing in her head: "Everybody dies."

She couldn't stop the slow, silent tears as they slid down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away either, instead allowing herself to feel, trying to process and label what exactly she was feeling. She'd told him once that she loved him, she couldn't help it. And now it was so very clear just how true those words were.

After spotting her, Wilson allowed her a few moments of privacy to grieve before walking over. "It's good to see you. I wasn't sure you'd come, considering."

Cuddy glanced up at him, brushing her finger under her eyes to try to look presentable. "Of course I'd come," she said quietly. "He was the most incredible man I've ever known." She had said those words to House only a couple years ago.

"The man did drive a car through your house," Wilson reminded her. Maybe bringing that up would remind her of all the shit House had done so she wouldn't be so upset.

"I had to see for myself that he was..." she trailed off, unable to say the word. It was completely insane, really. She was a doctor. She dealt with life and death every day. And now she couldn't even bring herself to say the word where he was concerned. "You're a terrible doctor," she could hear that familiar smug voice again. God, he was never going to be out of her head. "Maybe if I'd been there..."

"You could have, what? Saved him?" Wilson asked, arching an eyebrow.

She just gave him a silent look. She was beating herself up... she was feeling guilty that she hadn't been there to at least try to save him. For a long time she'd been the only one who could... from many things. This time she wasn't there, and now he was dead.

Wilson saw the guilt she felt at not being there to be his savior this time. "You always were his heart," he commented then, making a decision. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't going to let House keep hurting her. "He's not dead."

"Wilson..." she started, realizing her friend was probably processing his own grief and loss. He must be in denial.

"He's not. It's fake." He then went into detail about how House faked his death and the reasoning behind it.

For the second time in a week, Cuddy felt numb. And the familiar anger only House could provoke in her flared. "That son of a bitch..." she almost growled.

---end flashback---

She was quiet for a moment. "He saw me at your grave. He knew I was upset."

"I told him it wouldn't make a difference to you."

"How could you think that?!"

He shrugged. "I was already dead to you. Actually being dead would serve as an improvement. Then you wouldn't be tortured by guilt over how much you hate me."

"I've never been able to hate you, House."

"I've got a lot of memories that would beg to differ." He saw the look on her face then. "Fine, not a lot of memories. But a handful." He was quiet for another moment. "One memory."

She was silent. What was she supposed to say? That she forgives him? She doesn't. "Two, actually," she finally stated. They both knew what the first was. But at his questioning look on the second, she turned away and looked straight ahead. "You made me think you were dead," she stated lowly. She had been almost as angry at that as she had been when he drove into her house. She felt he needed to know that.

He was quiet for a moment, processing what she said. He hadn't expected her anger at his fake death, though he realized now that maybe he should have. "And yet here you are," he finally commented, studying her.

"Wilson was my friend too."

"That explains why you came to the funeral... which you already knew I wouldn't be at since I'd be keeping up the appearance that I was dead. That doesn't explain why you're HERE," he explained. "You knew I was alive the entire time. You knew coming here now, after everyone else is gone... you knew I'd be here."

The way he still knew her and could cut through any facade she could concoct about why she was there, surprisingly caught her off guard for a moment. She quickly managed to cover the shocked expression in her eyes.

"You came to check on me," he stated, unable to hide the slightest trace of an amused smile. She did still care about him...at least a little. "Why?" He couldn't help but ask, couldn't help but try to push her buttons.

She just looked at him for a moment, her temper flaring a bit as she'd seen his smile. "We all have our vices," she replied, her voice echoing the same time it had taken nearly three years ago when she'd told him that she couldn't help but love him, turning on her heel to walk back to her car. He was an ass. She should have known better than to see him. She should have just gone back to her life... left him dead. In less than five minutes, he'd already managed to open Pandora's box inside her once again. And it was true... she was an addict, same as him. He was addicted to Vicoden, but she was just as addicted to him.

Her words caught him off guard, or at least the truth in them, the implication they carried had surprised him. And he did the only thing he knew to do. He followed behind her. "Wanna get a drink?" He asked, almost allowing himself to hope.

She had opened the door already, but paused, just before she got in her car. She told herself he'd just lost his best friend... his world was probably crashing down. And for as much as she told herself no, told herself it was a bad idea, she remembered the times her world had been crashing down around her and he'd been the one there. He was there through her struggle with IVF... he'd been there when she'd lost the first baby she tried to adopt. It was time to return the favor. "Get in the car."