stawb.cake

"What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun."

[ruined-strawb-cake]

“You know that feeling,” she said, “when you are reading a book, and you know that it is going to be a tragedy; you can feel the cold and darkness coming, see the net drawing tight around the characters who live and breathe on the pages. But you are tied to the story as if being dragged behind a carriage and you cannot let go or turn the course aside.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

[th3l0nelie5t]

There was no need to say it that way

[icaruswar]

all these being from one episode is insane

this is what we had before we had wandavision

[urashin]

damn well I now I gotta try and give you a house shitpost you haven’t seen

OKAY I HAVEN'T SEEN THE TOP ONE AND I HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST TWO . so good job moot .. and also can you tell me what the last one stands for .. is it "i'm not on antidepressants , i'm on speed" ?? cuz i think it is

[disc0-v0lante]

a lot of people tend to forget that wilson is (semi) canonically a cat person and i think i just need to. give u guys a reminder about that? the only dog we canonically (afaik) know he owned was hector, who was. first of all generally a menace. second of all a dog house ended up taking care of instead of wilson (which is a whole separate discussion that really frames houses treatment of animals in an incredibly negative way). and three a dog his wife takes in their divorce. i dont remember the episode particularly well but i dont think wilson exactly Liked this dog.

meanwhile, the two animals we KNOW he actually did adopt and keep were both cats. in season 7, he (if by chance) adopts sara, and in some time before canon he adopted a three legged siamese cat. he clearly loved these animals, to the point that house felt jealous of them. wilson loves cats. wilson is a cat person.

all of this to say sara was the best part of s7 and it’s a shame nobody talks about her

[ohfarren]

Hey guys, what episode do these two stop being insufferable and start leaving us alone?? asking for a friend

[itooaminthisusername]

Like father, like daughter

[propertyofjameswilson]

wilson in S03E19

[hilsonlover-57]

My behavior 24/7:

[propertyofjameswilson]

mature middle-aged men btw

[makomiyo]

Hilson x Pluribus or something

[makomiyo]

Milkman Wilson x Housewife House

[importantpics]

[proudravenclawbird]

Why does this remind me of:

😭😭

[itooaminthisusername]

Like father, like daughter

[inkandvicodin]

ahh love ur fics, could u make one where house helps reader while she’s going into labour

>>> Our Dawn <<<

Summery: Terrified by the ghosts of past losses, Y/N goes into premature labor at home, forcing House to shed his cynical armor, defy hospital protocol, and personally guide their miracle rainbow baby into the world.

Pairing: Gregory House x f!reader

Genre: Soft house, Whump (Emotional), Hurt/Comfort (Heavy), Post-Trauma, Domestic

Note: This fic is a mix between two requests, the other being:

Could you do one where reader gives birth to her and Houses rainbow baby? - @clownquirks

The pain didn’t start with a dramatic burst of water or a sharp scream. It started as a low, cruel ache in the small of your back at three in the morning, whispering a familiar terror into the dark bedroom.

You sat up instantly, clutching your swollen abdomen, your breath catching in your throat. No. Please, God, no. Not yet.You were only thirty-four weeks. The memories rushed back like a tidal wave—the sudden cramps of your first miscarriage, the quiet, devastating silence of the ultrasound room during the second, and the agonizing, premature labor at twenty-four weeks that had stolen your third baby before he could even take a breath.

Beside you, the mattress shifted. House was awake, his sharp blue eyes instantly cutting through the shadows. He didn't ask if you were okay; he knew the exact shade of pale your face turned when the trauma resurfaced.

"How far apart?" his voice was rough with sleep, but his hands were already steady as he reached for you.

"Ten minutes," you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Greg, it’s happening again. It’s too early. My body is failing her again."

"Hey," House growled softly, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. The cynical, sarcastic doctor was gone; his eyes were fiercely alive with a protective desperation. "Look at my face. Thirty-four weeks is not twenty-four. Her lungs are ready. You are ready. We are going to the hospital, and we are bringing our daughter home."

The trip to Princeton-Plainsboro was a blur of blinding headlights and agonizing, tightening waves of pain. By the time House wheeled you through the doors of the ER, you were sobbing, completely overwhelmed by the physical agony and the suffocating terror of history repeating itself.

The standard hospital machinery kicked in instantly. The on-call OBGYN, Dr. Thomas, rushed into the triage room with a team of nurses, gloved and ready to examine you.

"Get away from me!" you shrieked, pulling your legs back, pressing yourself flat against the headboard of the bed. Your eyes frantically scanned the room until they landed on House. "No! No one touches me but him! Greg, don't let them!"

"Y/N, I need to check your dilation, you're in active labor," Dr. Thomas said urgently. "Dr. House is a diagnostician, he isn't—"

"I don't care!" you screamed, your voice cracking with raw panic. A violent contraction seized your abdomen, making you arch your back. "He knows what we lost! He knows her! Greg, please! Only you!"

House didn't hesitate. He slammed his cane down onto a side table with a resounding clack that silenced the room. "You heard her. Step back."

"House, this is highly irregular, you're not on staff as an obstetrician—" Thomas argued.

"I have an MD, I've delivered babies in the clinic, and more importantly, she’s mine," House snapped, his voice carrying an icy authority that brooked no argument. He grabbed a bottle of sterile scrub, washing his hands with furious efficiency before snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "You want to stand there and watch to make sure I don't break a policy? Fine. But if you touch her, I’ll find out which pharmaceuticals you're taking bribes from and ruin your career by sunrise. Back off."

The OBGYN and the two nurses slowly stepped back, forming a quiet, watchful perimeter at the back of the room, ready to intervene only if a medical catastrophe arose.

Outside the glass doors of the delivery room, a small crowd had gathered. Cuddy stood with her arms crossed, her eyes shining with an anxious, protective warmth. Wilson was beside her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pale with worry for his best friend. Behind them, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman stood in a hushed line, their usual medical detachment melted away by the sheer emotional gravity of what was happening inside.

House ignored them all. The entire universe had shrunk down to this bed, to you, and to the fragile promise of the heartbeat coming from the monitor.

"It's just you and me, Y/N," House murmured, moving to the foot of the bed. His voice was incredibly soft now, a low, grounding anchor in the middle of your storm. "I'm right here. I’ve got you. On the next contraction, I need you to push."

The wave hit you, a blinding crescendo of pain. You grabbed the metal bars of the bed, screaming as you pushed with everything you had left. The fear of failure, the grief of the babies you had lost, the agonizing hope for this one—you poured all of it into the physical effort.

"Good, beautiful, keep going," House urged. His hands were perfectly steady, guiding you, shielding you.

Hours bled together. You pushed until your throat was raw, until your muscles trembled so violently you couldn't hold your legs up. Through it all, House didn't blink. He wiped the sweat from your forehead, he let you crush his hand until his fingers popped, and he spoke to you in a way he had never spoken to anyone else—with absolute, unyielding devotion.

"I see her," House suddenly breathed, his voice catching. A look of pure, unadulterated awe broke across his hardened face. "She's right there, Y/N. Dark hair. Just like yours. One more push and she's out. Give me everything you've got."

With a final, desperate cry, you gathered every shattered piece of your strength and pushed.

The release was sudden and overwhelming. For a fraction of a second, the room fell into a terrifying, breathless silence. Your eyes flew open, your heart stopping, waiting for the nightmare to reclaim you.

Then, a sharp, angry, beautiful gasp tore through the air, followed by a loud, vigorous wail.

The sound shattered the ghosts in the room.

House immediately lifted the squirming, slippery, beautifully pink baby girl, laying her directly onto your bare chest. The nurses behind him moved forward with towels, but House gently waved them off, wanting to be the one to clear her airway, to wrap her up, to keep her safe.

You collapsed back against the pillows, your hands trembling violently as you cradled the warm, crying weight against your skin. "She's breathing... Greg, she's breathing. She's crying."

"She’s perfect," House whispered.

You looked up at him, and the sight broke your heart in the most beautiful way. Gregory House—the man who guarded himself with walls of stone and sarcasm—was crying. Large, silent tears streamed openly down his face, tracking through the stubble on his cheeks. He fell to his knees beside the bed, his cane completely forgotten, and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his shoulders shaking with deep, silent sobs.

You wrapped one arm around his head, holding him close, while your other hand held your daughter.

Outside the glass, Cuddy wiped a tear from her cheek and walked away to give you privacy. Wilson let out a long, shuddering breath, a massive, emotional smile breaking across his face as he followed her.

Inside, the room was filled only with the sound of your daughter's cries and the quiet weeping of two parents who had finally made it through the storm.

House pulled back just enough to look at the baby, his wet blue eyes filled with a tenderness that seemed entirely new. He reached out a trembling, gloved finger, and your daughter’s tiny hand instinctively wrapped around it, holding on tight.

"Aurora," you whispered, the name you had kept hidden in your heart for months, too terrified to speak it aloud. "Our dawn."

"Aurora," House repeated, his voice thick with tears, his lips pressing a long, reverent kiss against your sweaty forehead, and then against the soft cheek of your daughter. "You're safe. We've got you."

-end

Taglist: @frieddelusionparadise @urfinalg1rl @wjosephine @qardasngan @thefemininemystiquee @ruined-strawb-cake

[ruined-strawb-cake]

Can we talk about abo! hilson where Wilson may or may not have accidentally bitched alpha!House into being an Omega?!?!??? Pretty plss

Like Wilson battling with his guilt for turning House into an omega vs his happy possessiveness??? also also House’s anger and indignation and reluctant acceptance of his situation or trying to separate himself by turning himself into a puzzle of “how to put back into alpha”

[soothsaysitsofficial]

Obsessed with the posters in Winson's office and how they reflect the plots happening at the time. (Spoilers)

Vertigo: During his relationship with amber theres a vertigo poster: a film about a man who falls in love with someone doomed by the narrative, he tries to help her only for her to die and he then becomes obsessed with a woman who looks like her only for her to be the original woman in disguise.

Touch of evil: not sure when this first appears in the show but the film has a villian who is an addict that walks with a cane and has a loyal sidekick, the sidekick is torn between loyalty to his friend verses his job and morality, eventually leads to them killing each other.

Ordinary people: i noticed this appear in season 5 when house is dealing with the deaths of amber and kutner: the films about a boy struggling and blaming himself for the death of his brother and how a doctor helps him mend his relationships with those around him.

Like theres probaably more details im missing i just think the parralels are really cool and theres definatly room to read into wilsons office as a reflection of houses superego and empathy.

[iamacebookworm]

Wilson, mid argument; I HATE YOU!!!!!!

House; I HATE ME MORE!!!

Wilson;

House;

Wilson; House, we've talked about this