#wig cleaning and conditioning

[wig-supplies-and-more]

Wig Services: Identifying Fields of Application

Choosing the best wig service field to enter can be a daunting task. We have compiled a list of wig services that you may be able to provide your clients. Select the one that's right for you based on your skill level and expertise.

Want to work in the wig industry, but don’t know where to start?   Choosing the best wig service field to enter can be a daunting task. We have compiled a list of wig services that you may be able to provide your clients. Select the one that’s right for you based on your skill level and expertise. Wig Cleaning & Conditioning: Wig cleaning and conditioning services are designed to refresh and…

[laundrybiscuits]

(ETA: now edited and up on AO3)

Look. Eddie knows he can be a little uptight about these things, but. There are rules. If you become a vampire, you don’t need to go full gothic Count Von Dickhead or whatever, but you absolutely cannot just wander around in a puffy vest and light-wash jeans. 

“Why not?” says Steve. He’s leaning back in an armchair, sipping on a bloodbag like it’s a goddamn juicebox. “What, are the vampire police going to arrest me?” 

He pauses. “Wait. There aren’t vampire police, are there?”

“No,” says Eddie. “Probably not. I don’t know. But there are standards which you are refusing to uphold, Steven.”

“Thought you were all about hating conformity, Edward,” Steve says. He’s got an obnoxiously cocky little smirk, the smug undead fucker. 

Eddie grimaces. “Don’t call me that, asswipe. Don’t you feel, like—the call of the night? The siren song of life coursing through fragile human veins? A hunger for destruction that those paltry plastic bags of blood can never truly slake?”

“The bloodbags aren’t so bad,” says Steve, around the straw. “Better than protein shakes.”

“I actually hate you,” Eddie tells him. “Vampirism is wasted on you.”

Steve noisily slurps the last of the blood out of the bottom of the bag. “Come on, you can’t really picture me in some Dracula getup, can you?”

The problem, of course, is that Eddie really, really can. When Robin had read him in on the whole situation, obviously he’d been horrified and concerned—but also, a whole wing of his brain had immediately been cordoned off to work overtime imagining Steve in elaborate Dark Prince regalia, maybe leaning elegantly out of a castle window on the moors, gazing into the foggy dusk. Velvet might’ve been involved.

“...guess not,” says Eddie. It doesn’t sound incredibly convincing to his own ears, but Steve just shrugs and gets up to throw the bloodbag away. 

“There you go, man,” he says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s the 80s. Vampires can be whatever we wanna be.”

———

It gets way too easy to forget about Steve’s condition, until Eddie ends up having to haul him out of a bar in Indy before they get banned for life.  

“Simmer down, buddy,” Eddie says, pulling him into the shadow of the van. “Let’s get those fangs packed away before any of the nice villagers wander by with torches and pitchforks.”

“I’m good,” pants Steve. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Eddie lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, that’s why your eyes are glowing red and you’re, like, fully vamped out. Which, by the way, looks extremely dumb with the whole clean-cut vibe you decided to rock tonight.”

“Fuck you, I look great,” says Steve, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s not wrong, it’s just not relevant to how he also looks extremely dumb like this, wearing a pristine henley with fangs hanging out in the parking lot for anyone to see.

“So what the hell happened in there, man? I was finally starting to get somewhere with Todd, and…” Eddie trails off in dawning realization.

“Holy shit, am I—I’m like your territory, aren’t I? Your stupid vampire brain got all screwy and decided to loop me in with Robin and the kids as part of your freaky human coven.”

“Uh,” says Steve. He looks unhappy in a shifty kind of way. “Something like that, maybe.”

“Wait, so, are Nancy and Jonathan—are you okay with them because they’re both already in the vamp pack? Is Vickie gonna have to be inaugurated before she and Robin can bone down?” Eddie perks up. “Shit, is there a ceremony? We could totally do a ceremony.” He bets he can get the kids to liberate some velour curtains from the drama club. With a few candles, they could get some serious atmosphere going.

“No, shut up, nobody’s doing a damn ceremony,” Steve groans. “Vickie’s fine.” 

“Okay,” says Eddie. “So…you gonna tell me what all that was about, then? Do I have to start running guys past you first so your vamp instincts don’t wig out? Or…hm, maybe Argyle’d be down to mess around sometime.”

Steve lets out an actual snarl with weird animal echoes, then claps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, muffled. The shadows around them seem darker somehow. 

“So I’m just not allowed to get laid ever again,” says Eddie slowly. “For vampire reasons.”

“Do whatever you want, man.” Steve’s still got his hand pressed tight over his mouth. 

“And it’s…just me?” Eddie peers at the tightness around Steve’s eyes; the way he’s scowling stubbornly at his feet. “Huh. Kind of…possessive, Harrington.”

“It’s—weird,” says Steve miserably, dropping his hand at last. “I know it’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs, biting down on the grin he can feel tugging at his mouth. “Lucky for you, I’m into that shit.”

“What?” Steve frowns. “You’re…”

“Always wanted a vampire boyfriend,” says Eddie. “Like, are you kidding? I would’ve sold my fucking soul at 15 for something like that.”

“I’m starting to feel a little objectified here,” says Steve, but he’s smiling, and he reaches out to snag Eddie’s belt loop and tug him stumbling closer. “Just in it for the fangs, huh?”

“Well, you’re kind of a shitty vampire, actually.” Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “So I guess I must just be in it for you.”

Steve hesitates, searching Eddie’s face. Stray red lights are still sparking like embers in Steve’s irises. “Okay, but—you’re in it? Right?”

“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Bunnicula. I’ll send the vampire police after you, just watch me,” says Eddie, and kisses him.

[clorvismaximus]

Caring for Your Comedic Companion: A Guide to Proper Clown Care

Creating a Clown-Friendly Environment: The Chuckle Chamber

Clowns thrive in environments that stimulate their comedic instincts. Before adopting your clown, ensure you have a dedicated space in your home for them, commonly referred to as the "Chuckle Chamber." If you cannot afford to buy a new enclosure, an old tent painted with stripes can keep your clown happy for the first few months. Equip it with a variety of colorful props, oversized shoes, and a well-stocked assortment of rubber chickens. Ensure the Chuckle Chamber is spacious enough for your clown to express its natural exuberance.

Nutritional Needs: A Diet of Delightful Delicacies

Maintaining a well-balanced and joy-inducing diet is crucial for your clown's health. Offer a mix of cotton candy, popcorn, and custard pies to meet their nutritional needs. For hydration, a continuous supply of seltzer water is recommended. Regularly check for any allergies or sensitivities your clown may have to certain treats. Surprisingly, peanut allergies are common amongst certain breeds of clown.

Exercise and Enrichment: Laughter Workouts

Clowns are energetic beings that require regular exercise and mental stimulation. Engage your clown in laughter workouts, which can include juggling sessions, pratfall practice, and balloon animal sculpting. Introduce new comedic routines to keep their minds sharp and their spirits high.

Grooming: Maintaining the Mirthful Mane

Clown grooming is not just about appearance; it's an essential aspect of their well-being. Regularly check and clean oversized shoes to prevent slips, trim colorful wigs to maintain their vibrant allure, and ensure that the iconic red nose is kept in pristine condition. A well-groomed clown is a happy and confident one.

Veterinary Care: Honk-Checked Health Checks

Regular visits to a certified clown veterinarian are crucial to monitor your companion's health. These professionals specialize in honk-checked health checks, ensuring that your clown is in peak comedic condition. Vaccinations against gloom and routine screenings for joke deficiencies are standard procedures.

Socialization: Playdates with Fellow Funnymakers

Clowns are social beings that thrive on interaction with their own kind. Arrange playdates with fellow clowns to encourage socialization and the exchange of humorous antics. Attend clown conventions, where your companion can partake in the grandeur of collective laughter and collaborative performances.

Understanding Non-Verbal Communication: Mastering the Art of Clownish Signals

Clowns communicate primarily through non-verbal cues, such as honks, squeaks, and exaggerated gestures. Pay close attention to your clown's signals to gauge their mood and preferences. Understanding the art of clownish communication is key to fostering a strong bond with your comedic companion.

Celebrating Special Occasions: Clown Birthdays and Anniversaries

Marking special occasions in your clown's life adds a touch of festivity to their existence. Celebrate birthdays with a clown-sized cake and a chorus of joyous honks. Recognize adoption anniversaries with a memorable performance or a specially crafted routine to commemorate the time spent together.

Providing proper care to your beloved clowns is not just a responsibility but a joyful journey of shared laughter and merriment. By embracing the unique needs and whimsical nature of your clown companion, you'll cultivate a bond that transcends the ordinary, creating a lifetime of cherished comedic moments.

[missmyloko]

A perhaps unpleasant but nonetheless practical issue for the kagai members and others who wear expensive kimono during Japan's awful summers. Even though geimaiko wear layers of cotton under kimono, surely in the summer months sweat will gradually seep into hikizuri and other kimono. If not removed or treated, such garments will get moldy in Kyoto's hot & humid weather. How are these garments cleaned? For example, during Gion Kobu's Hassaku rounds of visits, they wear their hikizuri while walking under a blazing sun. How are the hikizuri handled afterwards? Are they now sent to cleaners, or, as in ages past are the hikizuri seams undone, the fabric is washed by hand and they are later resown? Also, how to geiko maintain their katsura during the summer?

They wear regular underwear, followed by hada juban and a slip, followed by their regular juban, and then their hikizuri, so there's 2-3 layers of protection before sweat can reach the hikizuri. Hikizuri are aired out each day after wearing to prevent any smells from settling in them. Oddly enough, they aren't fully cleaned on a regular basis as there really is no need to do so. As for katsura, a geiko's head is wrapped up fully before the katsura goes on top, so sweat doesn't reach the wig. They'll be sure to keep their katsura in good condition with daily applications of wax and oil, but if it does become too much they can just take it back and get it re-styled ^^

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

tw for pretty unsanitary discussions of bodily fluids (i totally get if this is too yucky to post)

WIBTA for leaving period blood visible in the bathroom?

I (23X) live with my parents. My dad (63M) and I have a pretty solid relationship but he's been really getting on my nerves lately.

Over the past few years he's had some issues with his health particularly related to the bathroom (bowel and urinary issues). I totally get this. He often has to rush to get to the bathroom at the last minute and I do not begrudge him that at all. But because of this he often misses a bit when peeing.

He doesn't clean up though.

Sometimes I go to the bathroom and theres a few drops on the seat cause he didn't have time to lift it, and I don't have a problem wiping those up. My problem comes from 1. this being a consistent problem he never cleans up and 2. sometimes, especially at night, there's whole puddles at the base of the toilet! I've talked to him directly, I've made offhanded comments and jokes when that didn't work, I've sighed and been passive aggressively frustrated and absolutely nothing has worked.

My dad, however, is deeply wigged out by period blood and I have like insanely heavy periods. I take great care to never leave even a drip behind, nary a little bit of blood even on the inside lip of the seat! I even take care to hide products I throw away in the bathroom.

Would it be a total dick move to leave just a little visible? Like a visible pad in the trash or a little on the toilet seat? Just to drill in that I do normally clean this up, that he is perfectly capable of cleaning up his own piss. (he has no health conditions preventing this after all)

So... WIBTA for leaving a little blood on the seat to prove a point to my dad?

What are these acronyms?

[obey-me-disaster]

Can you do a mc seeing the side characters in the maid dress also ! Your brothers headcanon was amazing and i loved it a lot !! Please please do it

I was waiting for an excuse to do this with the side characters! Except Luke of course.

!!Warning for slightly suggestive content!!

Side characters x gn!MC (without Luke)

Side characters in maid dresses with an MC that likes it a bit too much

Diavolo

He literally cosplayed Ruri-chan. The chances of him trying on a maid dress for fun are high. Just do it in the castle, no need for the whole Devildom to find out.

He probably called you to come for an emergency just for you to see him in a maid dress.

Why you may ask? He saw it in one of Levi's anime and he thought it was cute. You weren't gonna complain, he did look cute.

He insisted on serving you since he was already dressed like a maid...he still asked Barbatos to prepare the tea tho.

Every time he would bend to either pick something or to simply serve you get a glimpse of his clevage. Did I mention the top part of the costume looked like it was about to rip in any second?

It was already a bit too short with high thighs that hugged his thighs just the right way. What kind of anime did Levi show to the prince of Devildom!?

Diavolo noticed the way you tried so hard to keep eye contact and to not let your eyes wonder around his body.

He asked if there was anything bothering you. Of course you tried to tell him no but that didn't work. Diavolo has the ability to know when people are lying to him after all

He jokingly threaten that he will create illusions of whatever you were thinking about. That was more than enough to make you come clean about how much you liked him in this dress.

please devs, give me more diavolo using his powers.

He makes it a thing to invite to the castle to see him dressed in that maid outfit since you liked it that much.

Barbatos

You were helping him clean some old stuff from the castle when he stumbled across some of his old dame outfits, one which happened to be a maid outfit.

You begged asked him to try it on for the old time's sake. His beauty as a dame caused a huge panic accros the Devildom, it was only natural you wanted to see him as one.

In the end he agreed to not only dress in the maid outfit, but to also put on the make up and wig he used when he was a dame. His only condition was to keep this just between the two of you. The last time demons in Devildom saw him dressed as a dame it caused so much chaos that it hindered his work.

Imagine this Barbatos dressed in a maid dress.

You honestly didn't even know where to pay attention to. His face? The dress? The way his legs look with the heels on? He was breath taking in every sense of the word. No wonder there was a huge panic among demons.

He continued on with his work and you tried to help, you really did. But you could only focus on him. It didn't help the way the dress would ride up his thighs when he was trying to climb up the ladder to reach for some box full of things probably older than your entire bloodline.

It didn't help that he asked you to stay at the base of the ladder while he handed you stuff you couldn't be bothered to remember. You could so easily look up his dress. You weren't sure if he was trying to test you or not.

After what felt like an eternity he finally climbed down from that ladder and you thought you were safe just to tell you "If you actually do your work I promise to show you more of this particular dame outfit"

You don't remember the last time you started to clean so fast. You made sure that place was so clean you could eat off the floor.

Solomon

He is in a pact with Asmo. He is 100% getting put in some weird outfits. I am pretty sure it's canon he has a hard time saying no to Asmo.

Asmo is the one that called you to see Solomon in the maid outfit. Only to leave the two of you alone. His explanation? "I just needed someone to test if this outfit is comfortable to wear over longer periods of time. Have fun you two~".

Suddenly you were aware of the fact that not only you were alone with him, but also that he was in a maid dress. In a pretty revealing one too. It didn't cover up much.

Since he promised Asmodeus to keep wearing this outfit for a while he didn't change out of it, and asked you to stay with him. He couldn't exactly go out like this and it would quickly get boring if he was alone.

Of course you didn't refuse, no way are you going to pass on the chance to see more of Solomon in a maid outfit. He joked about serving you some of his food but you quickly came up with the excuse "What if Luke sees you like that?!" which seemed to work.

Since his idea with serving you food didn't work he just decided to focus on some magic experiments that you were all to happy to help.

The whole time he would either lean on you in order to grab something, making it impossible to look anywhere else but down his cleavage, or would come up behind you to guide your hands for an experiment. He would also try to climb some shelves in order to retrieve some books, giving you the perfect oportunity to look up his dress.

You made an effort to focus on the magic potions, but in the end, having most of your attention on Solomon made you careless. You spilled some of that potion on the maid dress, which seemed to dissolve.

You didn't know if you were supposed to be scared of Asmo's wrath from ruining his dress or turned by the fact that Solomon was nearly naked. Only a bit of the top part and the skirt of the dress seemed to survive.

You were about to start apologising up and down when you saw the smile on Solomon's face. It didn't take a genius to realize that this whole thing was a set up.

You tried to act annoyed but you couldn't, you enjoyed the whole thing. It didn't help that it looked like the maid outfit kept on dissolving, leaving behind only a Solomon in his underwear, knowing that his plan worked.

Simeon

Now, how did Simeon even get into a maid outfit? The answear is Thirteen. She tried to set up a trap for Solomon, that would put him in a cursed maid outfit for 24 hours. Unfortunately for both her and Simeon, the whole set up didn't go as planned.

Now Simeon was stuck in a maid outfit for 24 hours! He decided to just stay in his room and write for his next book and invited you to keep him company, and maybe help him with a few ideas.

At first everything seemed to go well. You made some small conversation here and there while he was writing. You got to see him sit all pretty in his dress with that cute expression he makes when he is in deep concentration.

After a while Simeon started to get annoyed, having a terrible case of writer's block that you didn't really didn't know how to help either.

He decided it was time for a break so he offered to cook something for the both of you. He needed to clear his mind and cooking might just be the thing that will help him.

The atmosphere was nice, Simeon seemed in a better mood than before now that he finished all cooking. Both of you nearly finished eating when Simeon's eyes widened like he just realized something. "I think I finally know how to continue the chapter I was on, I have to go write the idea now before I lose".

He tried to get up but the dress got caught on the edge of the sit which made him trip a bit over his own feet. While he didn't fall he did spil some of the food on the bottom half of his dress. He went to write down the idea quickly before coming back to the kitchen.

"I can't take off the dress, so I have to clean it this way for now." He pointed out as he tried to get the stain out of the dress. What he didn't realize was that he lifted the whole thing so he could wash it. From the waist down there was nothing covering him, except the tight highs, which were a bit see though anyway.

Simeon realized his mistake only after he was done cleaning his outfit. After all of that was done he seemed to have a new kind of writer's block. He would constantly look back at you only to get back to writing something.

At first you thought he was continuing on his book but it didn't take you a lot of time to notice he was writing for something else.

Around an hour later he handed you whatever he was writing comenting about how this was a vent about his feelings.

For a second you feared you made him uncomfortable with all of your staring at him, but he seemed to be rather blushful while waiting for your reaction.

When you finally decided to read through his writing you realized those were his thoughts about the whole situation. From the moment he got the curse to how the way you looked at him made him feel, and to your surprise and relief it was all positive.

In fact it was more than positive, no wonder he seemed embarrassed, the whole thing was borderline erotica. You'll really have to thank Thirteen later for her trap.

[houseofthelilypads]

Shrek Princesses Rewrite Edition 🐸👑🍎👡😴💇

Based on my own headcanons & plans for their roles in my rewrite of Shrek 3. Because if I can redeem Artie and Charming then the ladies deserve that same chance!!

AND DORIS TOO >:[

Fiona

Had a private tutor during her time at the tower

When food wasn't available she took to eating lava bread and smoked rats and bugs

Is heat resistant

She did venture out the tower when dragon was away

Studied martial arts through books and watching on the magic mirror

Her friends often stopped by to visit her, but as they got settled in adult lives grew too busy

Fiona loves kids and hopes to give her own children a childhood she never had

Does carry some resentment towards her parents she only vents in private tho

She can sing but on a normal range. Any higher it well... The bird scene in the first film

She loves swimming and water activities partly due to being surrounded by lava half of her life

Her favorite colors are green and blue they remind her of nature and to her, nature = freedom

Has bleached her hair a few times

She makes mud based beauty products and sell them on the side

Still listens to Sir Justin's music and has been to his concert

Knows of Artie's existence; they bond a lot over their parental issues

Fiona mentors artie how to defend himself, he has some proficiency in martial arts

Inherited her red hair from her grandmother

The reason Fiona was an ogre is partly due to her father being the Frog prince and guess where frogs live?

It's also believed that one of fiona's ancestors actually married an ogre but VERY long ago; the curse just brought out her genes

Fiona loves to stargaze; she also collected obsidian and volcanic rock

Sleeping Beauty

Is in a long distance relationship with the Sandman

Her dress is green because that's the color her disney counterpart never wears

Is the last one to arrive at a ball and the first one to leave

She has beds in every room but is usually found sleeping on the floor

Doesn't want children because she's too exhausted and fears any potential kids might inherit her condition

She actually understands Fiona dating someone who isn't human nor royalty, she dates the freaking god of SLEEP

Has the most patience with Snow because she sleeps through her nonsense anyways

Just like the video game adaptation of the third movie, she has the power to summon an army

Was the most hurt by Rapunzel's betrayal, they were the closest due to their similar backstories and lack of a biological family

Rapunzel

Used to date another prince but he never came back to her tower so she eventually rescued herself. This is why she latched on to Charming in canon (and Bruce in my fanfic)

After getting charged with treason Rapunzel is made to serve community service. She hates it but considers it better than exile

She wears gold to match her hair

She owns a lot of wigs after suffering loss of her real hair (which she shaved off).

Cinderella

Cleans her own home

Lives in a smaller house compared to the rest

The others tease her for it but understands it's to make it easier for her to clean; having spent her whole childhood cleaning a giant estate

Is a master at blacksmithing and glassblowing; what she didn't JUST clean her home she had to do repairs too

Carries some cleaning supplies

Is VERY careful in leaving crumbs

Dislikes rats and cockroaches; she has a cat named Chandelier for this reason (my twist on Disney's Cinderella)

Is working to unlearn her people pleasing

has a better relationship with her stepsisters as adults

Her prince suffers from face blindness and as such gets her confused with other ladies. He even mistook Shrek for her

She doesn't mind kids but she rather work on reconciling with her stepfamily and heal from the abuse than pass down any baggage

The third strongest princess due to years of heavy lifting

Had the closest relationship with Fairy Godmother; was even considered a potential suitor for Charming but Cindy didn't like his vanity and immaturity.

When Cindy finds out about their plan to break up Fiona's marriage she is saddened but not surprised given Charming's past behavior

Snow White

She's my least favorite but I can explain why she acts like that

Developed an Ice Queen persona to protect herself

Living with seven bachelors rubbed off on her

Love rock music

Trained her animals to fight; found the larger animals surprisingly easier to tame

There's another Snow White but she is younger and has white hair.

If she ever sees her MGA doll irl she would be impressed that it's the only doll that managed to stay the most accurate to how she looks. She'd cut the hair

Does feel a little guilty for her mean girl attitude especially after it pushed Rapunzel away so post canon she works to be a little nicer

Her prince is actually the huntsman sent to kill her; he disguised himself as one to warn her of the evil queen

Still visits the dwarves time to time and even lets them live with her

Doris

Chose to reconcile with Cinderella after taking a good long hard look at herself

Is the girly girl of them all

The first thing she brought with her first paycheck was a purple dress, she couldn't afford the color after losing her home

Doesn't like to talk about her mother

After Fiona she is the 2nd physically strongest Princess

Knows every beauty trick in the book, every ingredient, foundation shade, even which brand of Lead

Shaves her legs using a sugar and lemon wax method, she doesn't use razors

She knows my OC Gwynn from when Gwynn was a teenager first arriving at the Poison Apple

She still has a crush on Charming, but tones it down after he starts dating Gwynn

Her friction with Mabel started after Doris expressed desire to make up wth Cindy, Mabel didn't see what they had to apologize for.

After Shrek 3 Doris works at the Candy Apple, which is an extension of the Poison Apple but FOR KIDS

[dollsonmain]

Person: I love how this turned out! Put Smartdoll wig in boiling water then put fabric softener in a bowl...

I closed the video at that point.

High heat ruins elastic, so boiling the wig cap isn't a good idea unless you're trying to stretch it out on purpose. Having been boiled, that wig cap's elastic ring is going to degrade and fail faster than one that's not been boiled, shortening the lifespan of the wig.

Cosplayers sometimes use fabric softener on wigs to dull them so they look less plastic-y, and it works because it applies wax to the fibers. Wax makes the hair sticky and it'll get dirtier faster than a clean wig that's been conditioned properly. It'll also never wash out again unless you use a heavy-duty degreaser (no, laundry soap doesn't wash it out, it just keeps on building up) which can also ruin the wig cap or hair fiber.

Hair conditioner is as effective, less destructive, and actually washes out.

[hero-does-dolls]

Today, I have a Sasha Bratz doll in very *loved* condition. Turned up at the second hand in a toys lot and she was going in the bin because she had no feet and she was very crusty with cut hair and drawn on with permanent markers and nail polish.

Actually no, I tell a lie. She has one (1) shoe.

She's officially a rescue operation;;

I cleaned her head and took out all her nasty hair but the marker really stained hard and I'm not sure if zit cream would lift it without making weird colour patches?

Thankfully the marker is mostly around the eyes as a kind of makeup I think. She has a spot on her nose but that's easily covered by a spot of gold paint for a nose stud.

Anyway this is what we're working with.

A couple coats of pastels, is where I started. Covering, blending with warmer tones. I'm just gonna build over the marks and use them as shadows.

Trusting the process --

No watercolour pencils this time, I'm just going in with acrylic straight over the pastel.

Oh

Oh Sasha

Much better;;

Do I dare to reroot you or just make a wig?

God;;;

[gluevah]

A kind redditor gave me a Josefina doll, in super rough condition, for just the cost of shipping c: They got her along with a couple other dolls that they planned to fix up and donate to children, but poor Josie was in quite a state, and was offered as a freebie to anyone who might want to send her to the doll hospital. I asked for her because I wanted to try and fix her myself! She was so much fun to fix up! The last photo is how she came to me.

Her leg had come off, because the tension cup cracked. I took off her other limbs, removed her original wig because it looked like there was missing hair under all that matting, cleaned her limbs and her body and face, put her back together again, and rewigged her. I think the short, wavy hair really suits her! It was between the short hair, and a super long, thick wig which also looked really pretty on her but I ended up preferring the short. Now I want to find another doll for the long wig 😁

I might rename this doll Azucena, because she's not quite a Josefina anymore. I'd love other name suggestions though!

[isfjmel-phleg]

I can share this now that she's reached her new home--I finished fixing up a doll to resemble my sister @nerdysk8s when she was a little girl!

This doll has the Emma face mold. She came to me in pretty good condition. One of her eyes is discolored from age, and I wish I could have replaced it, but that's beyond my skills at this point, and it's not too noticeable. I cleaned her up a little, replaced her wig, and braided it to resemble my sister's childhood hairstyle (we called those braids her "weapons").

The skating outfit was a fortunate find that cleaned up nicely. She has ice skates and a muff too, along with an extra dress and shoes (not pictured).

She did turn out to remind me a lot of my little sister (who was a figurative little doll herself, you're going to have to take my word for it), so it was a bit hard to curl her up in a box, smother her in bubble wrap, and hand her over to the mailroom, but I hope her new home will be a happy one!

Next up: a doll for my other sister! That one won't be much work either, just cleaning and redressing.

[ericbrainrot]

𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and renjun spend christmas over at your parents house, and he has a surprise for you.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: huang renjun x haitian!fem!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.8k

"How's this outfit?" he looked at you, standing a bit awkwardly.

You couldn't help but laugh as you stared at your boyfriend. You weren't understanding why he was nervous. Nevertheless, he looked good. This suit color suited him well, and the way his hair was styled was the cherry on top for you.

"You look so good right now... Like I wanna fuck you good," his cheeks were red as he sighed, taking a seat on the bed.

"Babe..." he groaned, placing the pillow over his face.

"I'm sorry, but it's true. You look so fine," you sat in front of your vanity, looking at him through your mirror.

"You look amazing," he was staring at you with a slight smile. Your body looked amazing.

Now he got to sit back and watch you do your makeup and fix your wig. He was always fascinated by the way you worked your magic. You were already a goddess in his eyes, but once your makeup was done... He couldn't find a word to surpass goddess. He just knew that he was the luckiest man on earth.

Today, your parents were having a Christmas party and invited everyone over. You knew that your mother only invited you over so that she could see Renjun. He was like the son she never had, and she was always spoiling him. Sometimes forgetting that you were her daughter. Last Christmas, when they were taking the family photo, you were in the bathroom and she almost forgot about you. You wondered what would've happened if Renjun didn't remind your mother about you in there.

With Renjun familiar with your family, you weren't sure why he stressing himself out. You weren't sure if it had to do with the fact that he wasn't able to be there for Thanksgiving or if he hasn't seen them in six months. He should already know that he is a part of the family, and has been for the past three years now.

Once your makeup and hair were finished, Renjun helped you tie your heels across your ankles before you got up from the chair. You looked inside your closet to see which purse you were going to wear, and you decided to wear your white medium telfar. You wanted to keep it simple tonight.

"Rejunnie!" your mother shouted, opening the door.

She had to be watching her ring camera to see when you two were going to show up.

"Damn, whatever happened to 'hello daughter,' just straight Renjun huh?" you sighed, walking inside the house behind Renjun.

"You know that's her beloved. Ever since he got Ma' that Birkin, she doesn't know how to act for real," your sister huffed, walking inside the living room. "

She was right, the purse that she wears almost everywhere and she's managed to keep it in good condition for this long. You greeted the rest of your family with Renjun before sitting down in the living room. Guessing by the smell of the food, you could tell that the food was almost finished.

"I think my mom made Haitian Mac just for you," you looked at him while his eyes lit up.

Everyone sat at the table. Passing down the plates, talking, laughing, and just overall having a great time. It was like this each holiday event they had and [your name] was grateful to have such an experience. Yet something seemed off, no someone seemed off. Turning to your left, you noticed that Renjun was missing. Where'd this man disappear to now? He's always doing this. Maybe he was using the restroom, so you weren't going to stress yourself out.

Ten minutes passed and he still wasn't there and everyone was beginning to clean around the table. You helped your mom wash the dishes while other family members cleaned the table and floor. The children and everyone else were in the living room chatting.

"Where the hell did he go..." you muttered to yourself, grabbing a napkin and drying your hands.

Walking to the living room, you heard everyone's voice go quiet. There stood Renjun.

"Where did you go? You had me worried sick about you..." you trailed off, walking to him.

"There's something I need to tell you..." he trailed off, grabbing your hand.

"Okay..."

"But before I speak, there's something behind you," and you turned around and saw your niece hand you a rose.

Turning back to Renjun, he was down on one knee. There was no way that this was happening. What the hell? Everyone stood and sat there with big smiles on their face. Did they know about this?

"I haven't said anything yet and you're crying?" he joked with a slight chuckle.

"Being with you for the past three years made me realize how much I love you. I know that you're the one for me and I would love to continue spending the rest of my life with you. So, [your name] would you do me the honor and marry me?" you violently nodded your head with tears falling down your face.

"Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" you smiled at him, watching him slip the ring on your finger.

"I love you so much," you placed a kiss on his lips once he got up.

"I love you too," he smiled, placing his hands on your waist.

*·˚ ༘♡#𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃! ˖◛⁺⑅♡

realized that i’m renjun biased and i had no oneshots for him????

anyway, happy holidays!

[rainbowhighschoolnurse]

Doll restoration: Rainbow High’s Avery Styles(es)

Before:

After:

Since I had two of these dolls, I thought I’d do them together. The one on the left came from the house with the dog, and the one on the right came from the house with the cat, and the two restorations were by no measure equally difficult.

The one on the left was almost laughably easy. I had to sand down her elbows a but with a fine grain nail file, and comb out her wigs, but the wigs didn’t even need washing or trimming or anything. So the whole project basically boiled down to thoroughly washing the doll’s body as she did have a little bit of dust and grease buildup. And that was it.

The same cannot be said of the one on the right.

For starters, her purple wig had been glued to her head—crooked. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that her pink molded hair had come off, which was likely the reason her previous own had glued the wig on. However, without the molded hair underneath, it was unsupported and the glue in the back had come up so it floated awkwardly. Furthermore, her ears and forehead were covered in glue, and part of her bangs had unintentionally been glued to her forehead as well. This whole fiasco would prove to be my greatest obstacle.

First off, I used my nails and a comb to scrape up as much of the glue as I could that was on her skin, as well as the stuck part of her bangs. Then I used acetone to remove as much of the glue as I could. (There’s still a little bit on her forehead that simply would not come up no matter what I did, but at least it’s covered by her bangs.) Knowing there was no way it would come out, I carefully cut out the clumps in her bangs that were covered in glue, making sure they were layered underneath intact hairs.

Once that was done, I turned my attention to her body. Like the other doll, she had some joints that I needed to clean up with a nail file, namely her knees and elbows. Her fingertips also needed sanding down and tweezing to remove the excess plastic. Despite the manufacturing quirks, she wasn’t too beaten up, all told, and a good wash to clean off the lint and animal hair was all that was left to make her body good as new.

Next, I thoroughly combed, washed, and conditioned her hair and head, making sure to rub away any excess oils from the conditioner with a clean towel. Once her hair had dried completely, I re-glued the back of her wig down securely to her scalp with E-6000 glue, secured it with a rubber band, and let it cure for 24 hours. There’s still air underneath, so the top of her head seems soft, but at least it’s not shifting around anymore. I wish I’d thought to fill in underneath with something, but alas it didn’t occur to me until it was too late. But you live and you learn.

Lastly, I had to correct one final problem—that being that the wig had not been glued on straight to begin with. Once it was clean and combed, the lopsided haircut was much easier to see, especially when it came to the bangs. It took me a little over half an hour to straighten the whole thing up with a pair of hair cutting scissors, and the difference just that made was the greatest visual change in the whole restoration.

[idledoll]

It's my birthday this month, so I treated myself to this adorable #21 I found for a good price.

She didn't need much restoring, luckily! Just a brushing and a light cleaning, and she's nearly good as new!

I've managed to restore one set of pincurls, and I've got the second set in barrettes to hopefully get them back into shape. I'm pretty thrilled that I managed to find a #21 whose hair is in such great shape, so I'm content to leave the third set alone, wherever they are.

She also happens to be a first edition, as it turns out! I noticed that she had a distinctly jaundiced look compared to my other dolls, which got me thinking she might be a transition doll, so I took her head off to look at her shoulder tag, and lo and behold, she's from the spring of 2001. I'm amazed her hair is in such good condition -- I didn't think it was possible for a transition era doll to not have frizzy dry hair! It almost makes me wonder if she's been re-wigged; I doubt she's been re-headed, because her face is the same color as the rest of her vinyl.

Anyway, I've named her Clemence and I love her.

[sarah-sandwich]

for the tag game Put in the work 👀

Former nasa au my beloved <333

When I first thought this up, I thought Harley working at NASA would be the main setting of the story, but then I was like hE ShOuLD bE a sINgLe FaThER like this detail wouldn't disrupt the entire structure I had planned lmao

The first half goes back and forth between past (having his daughter, Hazel, working at NASA, meeting Spider-Man via twitter, etc.) and present (moving to NYC after getting laid off, trying to connect with teenage Hazel, and meeting Peter). Then the timeline syncs up and it's all in the present. Which worked out surprisingly well! I was worried about how to get in everything about Hazel and NASA without having to write another mammoth 100k+ story 😅

I'm SO CLOSE to finishing this. Most of the ending is already written, I just need to connect the scenes and clean them up. There are like... MAYBE 2 and a half scenes that still need to be written. MAYBE. It's mostly transitions.

Unfortunately my dumb brain is like,,,, close enough! Let's call it a day gentlemen.

Anyway, have an excerpt!

Ten Years Old

Frozen on the couch, Harley watches the television in horror as Spider-Man prances all over the launchpad and the rocket Harley spent the past several years painstakingly designing, constructing, and testing. He worked his ass off just to get his designs on the board.

His ideas. His rocket.

“I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t worry, daddy. Spidey’s gonna lock him up.”

Hazel is standing on the cushion beside him hopping from foot to foot, enraptured by the chase. He should make her leave the room in case something traumatizing happens, but he can’t look away, he can barely breathe as years of rigorous work teeter on the edge of destruction.

Spider-Man shoots a web onto one of the solid rocket boosters and Harley grits his teeth as he swings around and plants a foot in the face of some dude on a hoverboard wearing an obnoxious orange hazmat suit.

He looks like an Among Us character. Completely ridiculous. Not a threat. Certainly not worth risking his rocket.

“No, baby,” he says calmly, “I’m going to kill Spider-Man.”

“Dad!” Hazel whacks his shoulder. “He’s the good guy!”

“He’s going to ruin everything.”

Harley doesn’t care why a New York vigilante is in Florida. He doesn’t care what the bad guy’s beef is or what he was going to do. If Spider-Man ruins his shot at space, he’s dead.

Long years of sacrificing his time to study, work, and attend class, the extra hours he put in every night after putting Hazel to bed to ensure he’d be good enough to be put on the rocket crew as a fresh-faced college graduate, the stress born from teetering on the edge of poverty—if anything happens to that rocket, it’s all up in smoke. Time he’ll never get back. All that effort, wasted.

The moment Spider-Man swung onto the launchpad chasing hoverboard guy, the big wigs in charge called off the launch. Now it’s a matter of waiting to see if his rocket will survive the encounter. If his rocket survives unscathed, they can reschedule, but if it gets so much as dinged, NASA is going to want to do a full inspection to make sure it’s still in perfect condition, and if it falls…

Well, if it falls Harley is going to have to do something extremely unpleasant to New York’s favorite web spinner.

The camera zooms out as Spider-Man springs away from something hoverboard guy threw. The something, a tiny black dot, smacks into the fin of Harley’s rocket. Then it detonates in a ball of fire and a burst of thick black smoke.

Hazel screams. The rocket tips. His heart stalls in his chest.

Then he’s on his feet, hands in his hair, and Hazel is yelling and jumping up and down on the couch, yanking on his arm as the rocket tips and tips and falls…

…and Spider-Man catches it.

There is a moment, a suspension in time, where Spider-Man holds an 8.5 million pound rocket over his head. A moment where Harley’s heart and lungs cease and everything goes still. He loses awareness of Hazel’s nails clawing into his arm and her voice, shrill and vibrant, in his ear.

For a moment, there is only Spider-Man, the dark smoke billowing around his calves, and the rocket held over his head. Two RS-25 engines rest on the ground and the rest of the build towers over him, tiny as a bug below it, and he holds it.

Then the launch vehicle stage adapter breaks loose and the entire top half of the rocket cracks off and hits the ground with enough force to shake the camera. It cracks like an egg.

Harley buries his face in his hands and sinks into the couch with a miserable moan. The TV drones on while a small hand rubs comforting circles on his back, but he can’t watch anymore.

“He got him, daddy,” Hazel says less than a minute after Harley’s rocket shattered without ever getting the chance to fly. “Spidey caught the bad guy.”

Yippee.

[atotc-weekly]

Book the Second—The Golden Thread

[X] Chapter IV. Congratulatory

From the dimly-lighted passages of the court, the last sediment of the human stew that had been boiling there all day, was straining off, when Doctor Manette, Lucie Manette, his daughter, Mr. Lorry, the solicitor for the defence, and its counsel, Mr. Stryver, stood gathered round Mr. Charles Darnay—just released—congratulating him on his escape from death.

It would have been difficult by a far brighter light, to recognise in Doctor Manette, intellectual of face and upright of bearing, the shoemaker of the garret in Paris. Yet, no one could have looked at him twice, without looking again: even though the opportunity of observation had not extended to the mournful cadence of his low grave voice, and to the abstraction that overclouded him fitfully, without any apparent reason. While one external cause, and that a reference to his long lingering agony, would always—as on the trial—evoke this condition from the depths of his soul, it was also in its nature to arise of itself, and to draw a gloom over him, as incomprehensible to those unacquainted with his story as if they had seen the shadow of the actual Bastille thrown upon him by a summer sun, when the substance was three hundred miles away.

Only his daughter had the power of charming this black brooding from his mind. She was the golden thread that united him to a Past beyond his misery, and to a Present beyond his misery: and the sound of her voice, the light of her face, the touch of her hand, had a strong beneficial influence with him almost always. Not absolutely always, for she could recall some occasions on which her power had failed; but they were few and slight, and she believed them over.

Mr. Darnay had kissed her hand fervently and gratefully, and had turned to Mr. Stryver, whom he warmly thanked. Mr. Stryver, a man of little more than thirty, but looking twenty years older than he was, stout, loud, red, bluff, and free from any drawback of delicacy, had a pushing way of shouldering himself (morally and physically) into companies and conversations, that argued well for his shouldering his way up in life.

He still had his wig and gown on, and he said, squaring himself at his late client to that degree that he squeezed the innocent Mr. Lorry clean out of the group: “I am glad to have brought you off with honour, Mr. Darnay. It was an infamous prosecution, grossly infamous; but not the less likely to succeed on that account.”

“You have laid me under an obligation to you for life—in two senses,” said his late client, taking his hand.

“I have done my best for you, Mr. Darnay; and my best is as good as another man’s, I believe.”

It clearly being incumbent on some one to say, “Much better,” Mr. Lorry said it; perhaps not quite disinterestedly, but with the interested object of squeezing himself back again.

“You think so?” said Mr. Stryver. “Well! you have been present all day, and you ought to know. You are a man of business, too.”

“And as such,” quoth Mr. Lorry, whom the counsel learned in the law had now shouldered back into the group, just as he had previously shouldered him out of it—“as such I will appeal to Doctor Manette, to break up this conference and order us all to our homes. Miss Lucie looks ill, Mr. Darnay has had a terrible day, we are worn out.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Lorry,” said Stryver; “I have a night’s work to do yet. Speak for yourself.”

“I speak for myself,” answered Mr. Lorry, “and for Mr. Darnay, and for Miss Lucie, and—Miss Lucie, do you not think I may speak for us all?” He asked her the question pointedly, and with a glance at her father.

His face had become frozen, as it were, in a very curious look at Darnay: an intent look, deepening into a frown of dislike and distrust, not even unmixed with fear. With this strange expression on him his thoughts had wandered away.

“My father,” said Lucie, softly laying her hand on his.

He slowly shook the shadow off, and turned to her.

“Shall we go home, my father?”

With a long breath, he answered “Yes.”

The friends of the acquitted prisoner had dispersed, under the impression—which he himself had originated—that he would not be released that night. The lights were nearly all extinguished in the passages, the iron gates were being closed with a jar and a rattle, and the dismal place was deserted until to-morrow morning’s interest of gallows, pillory, whipping-post, and branding-iron, should repeople it. Walking between her father and Mr. Darnay, Lucie Manette passed into the open air. A hackney-coach was called, and the father and daughter departed in it.

Mr. Stryver had left them in the passages, to shoulder his way back to the robing-room. Another person, who had not joined the group, or interchanged a word with any one of them, but who had been leaning against the wall where its shadow was darkest, had silently strolled out after the rest, and had looked on until the coach drove away. He now stepped up to where Mr. Lorry and Mr. Darnay stood upon the pavement.

“So, Mr. Lorry! Men of business may speak to Mr. Darnay now?”

Nobody had made any acknowledgment of Mr. Carton’s part in the day’s proceedings; nobody had known of it. He was unrobed, and was none the better for it in appearance.

“If you knew what a conflict goes on in the business mind, when the business mind is divided between good-natured impulse and business appearances, you would be amused, Mr. Darnay.”

Mr. Lorry reddened, and said, warmly, “You have mentioned that before, sir. We men of business, who serve a House, are not our own masters. We have to think of the House more than ourselves.”

“I know, I know,” rejoined Mr. Carton, carelessly. “Don’t be nettled, Mr. Lorry. You are as good as another, I have no doubt: better, I dare say.”

“And indeed, sir,” pursued Mr. Lorry, not minding him, “I really don’t know what you have to do with the matter. If you’ll excuse me, as very much your elder, for saying so, I really don’t know that it is your business.”

“Business! Bless you, I have no business,” said Mr. Carton.

“It is a pity you have not, sir.”

“I think so, too.”

“If you had,” pursued Mr. Lorry, “perhaps you would attend to it.”

“Lord love you, no!—I shouldn’t,” said Mr. Carton.

“Well, sir!” cried Mr. Lorry, thoroughly heated by his indifference, “business is a very good thing, and a very respectable thing. And, sir, if business imposes its restraints and its silences and impediments, Mr. Darnay as a young gentleman of generosity knows how to make allowance for that circumstance. Mr. Darnay, good night, God bless you, sir! I hope you have been this day preserved for a prosperous and happy life.—Chair there!”

Perhaps a little angry with himself, as well as with the barrister, Mr. Lorry bustled into the chair, and was carried off to Tellson’s. Carton, who smelt of port wine, and did not appear to be quite sober, laughed then, and turned to Darnay:

“This is a strange chance that throws you and me together. This must be a strange night to you, standing alone here with your counterpart on these street stones?”

“I hardly seem yet,” returned Charles Darnay, “to belong to this world again.”

“I don’t wonder at it; it’s not so long since you were pretty far advanced on your way to another. You speak faintly.”

“I begin to think I am faint.”

“Then why the devil don’t you dine? I dined, myself, while those numskulls were deliberating which world you should belong to—this, or some other. Let me show you the nearest tavern to dine well at.”

Drawing his arm through his own, he took him down Ludgate-hill to Fleet-street, and so, up a covered way, into a tavern. Here, they were shown into a little room, where Charles Darnay was soon recruiting his strength with a good plain dinner and good wine: while Carton sat opposite to him at the same table, with his separate bottle of port before him, and his fully half-insolent manner upon him.

“Do you feel, yet, that you belong to this terrestrial scheme again, Mr. Darnay?”

“I am frightfully confused regarding time and place; but I am so far mended as to feel that.”

“It must be an immense satisfaction!”

He said it bitterly, and filled up his glass again: which was a large one.

“As to me, the greatest desire I have, is to forget that I belong to it. It has no good in it for me—except wine like this—nor I for it. So we are not much alike in that particular. Indeed, I begin to think we are not much alike in any particular, you and I.”

Confused by the emotion of the day, and feeling his being there with this Double of coarse deportment, to be like a dream, Charles Darnay was at a loss how to answer; finally, answered not at all.

“Now your dinner is done,” Carton presently said, “why don’t you call a health, Mr. Darnay; why don’t you give your toast?”

“What health? What toast?”

“Why, it’s on the tip of your tongue. It ought to be, it must be, I’ll swear it’s there.”

“Miss Manette, then!”

“Miss Manette, then!”

Looking his companion full in the face while he drank the toast, Carton flung his glass over his shoulder against the wall, where it shivered to pieces; then, rang the bell, and ordered in another.

“That’s a fair young lady to hand to a coach in the dark, Mr. Darnay!” he said, filling his new goblet.

A slight frown and a laconic “Yes,” were the answer.

“That’s a fair young lady to be pitied by and wept for by! How does it feel? Is it worth being tried for one’s life, to be the object of such sympathy and compassion, Mr. Darnay?”

Again Darnay answered not a word.

“She was mightily pleased to have your message, when I gave it her. Not that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she was.”

The allusion served as a timely reminder to Darnay that this disagreeable companion had, of his own free will, assisted him in the strait of the day. He turned the dialogue to that point, and thanked him for it.

“I neither want any thanks, nor merit any,” was the careless rejoinder. “It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don’t know why I did it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question.”

“Willingly, and a small return for your good offices.”

“Do you think I particularly like you?”

“Really, Mr. Carton,” returned the other, oddly disconcerted, “I have not asked myself the question.”

“But ask yourself the question now.”

“You have acted as if you do; but I don’t think you do.”

“I don’t think I do,” said Carton. “I begin to have a very good opinion of your understanding.”

“Nevertheless,” pursued Darnay, rising to ring the bell, “there is nothing in that, I hope, to prevent my calling the reckoning, and our parting without ill-blood on either side.”

Carton rejoining, “Nothing in life!” Darnay rang. “Do you call the whole reckoning?” said Carton. On his answering in the affirmative, “Then bring me another pint of this same wine, drawer, and come and wake me at ten.”

The bill being paid, Charles Darnay rose and wished him good night. Without returning the wish, Carton rose too, with something of a threat of defiance in his manner, and said, “A last word, Mr. Darnay: you think I am drunk?”

“I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton.”

“Think? You know I have been drinking.”

“Since I must say so, I know it.”

“Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed drudge, sir. I care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me.”

“Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents better.”

“May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Don’t let your sober face elate you, however; you don’t know what it may come to. Good night!”

When he was left alone, this strange being took up a candle, went to a glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself minutely in it.

“Do you particularly like the man?” he muttered, at his own image; “why should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is nothing in you to like; you know that. Ah, confound you! What a change you have made in yourself! A good reason for taking to a man, that he shows you what you have fallen away from, and what you might have been! Change places with him, and would you have been looked at by those blue eyes as he was, and commiserated by that agitated face as he was? Come on, and have it out in plain words! You hate the fellow.”

He resorted to his pint of wine for consolation, drank it all in a few minutes, and fell asleep on his arms, with his hair straggling over the table, and a long winding-sheet in the candle dripping down upon him.