#rainy day blues quilt

[redheadspark]

Universe

Summary - a few of Alec Rhysand's firsts. Part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Warnings - just fluff :)

Crawling

Alec was always a babe of observation, ever since he came into the world screaming and making his presence known in Velaris.  He loved knowing what was happening around him, his bright blue eyes always moving and gazing around.  You knew he inherited it from his father: always watching with silence.  It made you laugh to see almost the same look on your son’s face as his father’s own face when they were side by side, even giggling at one point as Azirel was holding Alec and they were watching Cassian and Rhysand banter with one another during one of your Inner Circle dinners that was held once a month.  You were hiding your laugh behind your smile, not wishing to ruin the moment of your mate and son showing the same judgemental face towards Cassian as he was trying to make the table laugh with an Illyrian camp story.  The only other person who caught on was Feyre, who was hiding her smile behind her wine glass.  

You were not even surprised when it came to Alec wishing to crawl.  When he wasn’t being held by Azriel or when he wasn’t on your hip, he was sitting upright and looking at everything around him in earnest.  Although you were never too far away from him while he was perched on a quilt that was a gift from Elaine, he was always observing everything.  Perhaps you could tell he wanted to be able to move around and be closer to you and Azriel, or he simply never wanted to miss out on what was happening with his family during gatherings, Alec was ready to move.

It finally happened one afternoon, you were gathering some lavender from the garden outside your house since it was now overgrowing.  Azriel was inside the house, going over last-minute spy information he got from Dawn Court.  He wanted to make the proper paperwork before giving it to Rhysand and Feyre, then making sure to devote the rest of his time to both yourself and Alec.  

You were humming, enjoying the small amount of sun you’d had for the first time in a week since it was still technically the rainy season in Night Court.  Clipping a few tall strands of lavender that were full and ready for use, you paused to look over at Alec who was only a foot or two way on his quilt, seeing him play with the wooden blocks that were his favorite toys.  You admired him, seeing how he was growing day by day before you could simply stop time itself.  One minute he was an infant swaddled in your arms, and now he was on his way to the toddler years.  Time was now a thief to you, a thief that you hated but at the same time, you savored the small moments. Like now, playing with the wooden blocks in his chubby fingers and babbling to himself to keep himself occupied while his mother was not too far away. 

“Honey, I’ll be ready to head out to the River House in about 10 minutes,” Azriel called out from inside the house, “Feyre wants to have you and Alec come along too.  Apparently, Nyx wants to see his cousin,” 

You had to laugh as you grabbed the clippers again and snipped a few more lavender strands to place in the basket.  You of course weren’t paying attention to your son, though you knew that he was alright in his spot and with his favorite blocks.  But you heard a new sound, apart from the soft breeze in the high trees behind your house and the bumble bee that was hovering near the lavender garden. It sounded like movement in the grass to which you paused to look.

Your eyes went wide at the sight: of Alec crawling over to you.

His eyes were on you, big and shining blue in the sun as his dark hair was pushed out of his sight, a gleeful grin on his face while his hands and knees were working overtime.  It was almost like a dream seeing him crawl to you, determination on his face as his eyes were zoned in on you.  A smile appeared on your face, an overwhelming sense of joy while you finally found your voice.

“Azriel!” You called, not wanting to sound concerned or panicked but wishing to get his attention.  You knelt down, placing the clippers down as you held out your hands for Alec, hearing him giggle as he was still crawling over towards you.  Although he wasn’t fast, you knew he was determined, and you were patient as you heard the back door open abruptly.

“What is it—“ Azriel fell silent after he saw Alec crawling toward you, a smile was now on his face too as Alec was so close to getting to you.  The determination on Alec’s face, let alone a hint of stubbornness that he got from his father, made your heart beyond full as he finally made it into your arms.  You Immediately engulfed him close, peppering his face with kisses as Alec squealed in delight.  Azriel’s own arms were around you from behind, the three of you enjoying this small moment together as a family.  

You hated time, but not in this moment with your son.

First Words

“Come on, Alec.  I know you wanna say your first words, come on!” Azriel urged his son, who simply grinned with a hint of saliva on his chin.  You had to laugh from your spot on the couch, thumbing through another page in the book you were currently reading thanks to Nesta.  Azriel was on the floor, back against the couch near your leg as Alec was perched in his lap.  With the rain coming through Velaris and making all of its residents stay inside, you and Azriel did not mind one bit.  With a roaring fire in the fireplace and a roast already cooking in the oven, it was the perfect day to have family time together.

Azriel made it his mission to make Alec say his first words, which amused you since you weren’t too worried about it yourself.  Alec would squeal, shriek, and babble to his heart’s desire when something amused or intrigued him.  He was no quiet babe, nor was he screaming constantly either.  But Alec made his voice heard constantly, a pleasant sound to your ears from morning to night.  Azriel could tell it was on the tip of his tongue that his son wanted to say his first word, and he would try and coax it out of him whenever he could.  Yet  Alec was still shy and reserved, an evident trait he inherited, and you knew he would talk when he was ready. 

“You can do it, buddy!” Azriel tried again, only seeing Alec smile at him with a gummy grin and giggle as his father rolled his eyes.  You had to swat his shoulder with your book as he looked at you.

“He’ll speak when he’s ready,” you reminded your mate, though Alec was still staring at you lovingly with his bright eyes while your mate was glaring at you, “No need to pressure him, sweetheart,”

“He’s so close to talking though,” Azriel commented as you giggled, leaning down to kiss Azriel’s forehead lovingly as he shoved your leg with his shoulder, “He’s a smart boy and I know he wishes to talk,”

“And he will, when he’s ready too.  I think he’s inherited his stubbornness from you,” you joked with him as you got up from the couch. Azriel rolled his eyes at you as you leaned down to kiss Alec on the head.  As you were moving away from the pair of them to head to the kitchen, a clap of thunder was heard near the mountain range.  The rain got louder, but it would never mask the soft sound heard from Azriel’s lap.

“Momma!”

You froze in your spot, hearing that singular word sound so light like a cloud, and cheerful, almost like bells.  Was it a trick that was playing in your mind?  Were you hallucinating? You had to turn around to the source of the voice, seeing Azriel too was frozen as Alec was still in his lap, but his gorgeous eyes were on you and you only.  He grinned, the spitting image of his father from the hair to his nose and cheeks, his hands were clasped together.

Alec said his first word.  He called out to you.  

“Did he….” You trailed off as Azriel was now smiling from ear to ear, laughing as Alec was reaching for you with his little fingers.  Your mind was reeling and your heart was about to burst out of your chest from the simple sound of your son calling your name, saying your name so easily as if it was natural to him.  

“That’s my boy,” Azriel breathed, trying to hold back his own tears as you finally rushed over to fall to your knees in front of your son.  He giggled as you held your hands to your son, almost like an offering of sorts as you found your voice.

“Say it again, baby.  Say it again, for me!” You urged him as Alec simply grinned.

“Momma!  Momma Momma!” He repeated it, you finally laughed with small tears in your eyes as you scooped up your son in your arms, swinging him around in your arms as he laughed and clung to you.  Your world seemed brighter and fuller, all simply from hearing your son call you “Momma”.  

Even before this moment, you knew you were his Momma, it was one of the best titles you would ever have and hold close to your heart.  But to hear him call you that, with his own unique voice that you would never forget for as long as you lived, it was another wave of love that seemed to overflow within you.

Once you finally stopped twirling your son, you saw the wave of happiness on his own face as you were kissing his cheeks and snuggling him close.  A new milestone was made, tucked away in your little home on a rainy day, with the two most important beings in your life, and you couldn’t be happier.  Nothing else could replace this feeling, this new core memory. 

This small bubble of happiness was suddenly destroyed by another clap of thunder that was closer now, making Alec lose his smile and shake in fear.   He hid in your neck, whimpering from the sudden sound as you held him close and rocked him.  He was no fan of thunder or loud noises, rightfully so, and to feel him press against you so close to feel safe made your heart break. 

“It’s okay, baby,” You cooed as he clung to your shirt and whimpered against your skin.  You rubbed his back with your knuckles, kissing his hair over and over while you were swaying in your spot and grinning against his hair, “It’s just noise, little one.  Nothing will hurt you, I promise.  Momma’s got you, I always got you,”

Azriel got up from his spot on the ground, holding both you and Alec close as you were still consoling your son in your arms.  You felt so much pride in your son, though he was still so new to the world and has yet to make his mark.  Not to you, he made a place in your heart with no sign of being moved out.  Not just from holding your son, but being held by your mate who was just as moved in the small moment in our little home.

You heard Alec once more, whimpering, “Momma,” against your neck as you sighed and grinned at the same time.  Looking away from Alec, your gaze went to Azriel who was smiling at you with tears in his eyes.  You both shared this small moment as Alec was feeling safe in your hold, Azriel kissing your cheeks with affection while his arms around you felt secure and intimate at the same time.    

You were Alec’s Momma, and you will always be his Momma until your last dying breath.

First Steps

“Any word from Spring Court?” Cassian asked as Azriel watched Rhysand roll his eyes and huff with a hint of annoyance. 

“You mean from Tamlin?” Rhysand countered back, to which Azriel and Cassian chuckled from their spots around the study at River House.  It was a warm summer day, Rhysand wishing to discuss some formalities with both Cassian and Azriel while their mates were catching up with one another out in the back garden.  All six of you were a tight-knit unit at this point, loving to enjoy each other’s company as much as you could when you had the time.  That also included Alec and Nyx, who formed a tight bond as cousins and loved having playdates together.  

So as you, Nesta, and Feyre were chatting outside in the garden and discussing future birthday plans for Nyx, the males were going over their own mundane topics while watching Nyx and Alec.  Both of them were playing in the study on a large rug, Alec watching his cousin walking back and forth with toys to share with him as Alec crawled after him in earnest.  

“He’s gotten smart with my advice and has stayed quiet.  As for Eris in Autumn Court, that joke of a Prince doesn’t know when to stay quiet and save his own face and reputation.  At least his father is gaining his reputation back amongst the other High Lords,” Rhysand explained.  

Azriel’s shadows flickered at the mention of Eris, Rhysand seeing the reaction and giving Azriel a knowing look as Azriel’s hazel eyes drifted out to the window, “The man is all talk and no bite, Azriel.”

“Not to me when he mentioned my mate and son,” Azriel replied in a cool tone, Cassian clasping his shoulder as Azriel kept his stare on the flowing river just outside the window.  He could still remember that meeting, hearing the sarcastic and sadistic tone in that fae’s voice.  He felt his whole demeanor shake and almost crumble into a thousand pieces once Eris mentioned his family, making it seem like it was some game to him.  Azriel never saw it as a game, not when the life of his family was now exposed and out in the world.

“Azriel,” Rhysand said his name, making the Shawdowsinger shift his eyes back to the High Lord, “Eris has enough common sense to understand the danger he is putting himself in when he said that.  He would have to not only go against the High Lord of Night Court but the only Shadowsinger in all of Pythian.  Eris is a fool, nothing more than that,”  

Azriel looked from him over to Nyx and Alec, who were chattering with each other and mostly making noises at each other with big smiles and laughter.  Ever since Eris mentioned his family, Azriel thought about the safety of his home and what he could do to make it better.  Night Court was already tightly secured and hadn’t had a breach of security for some time, not since before the war against Hybern.  The other Courts never dared to try anything against their home, and no humans even came close either.  

But still, the lingering thought of his family, his whole world, being taken from him or losing their lives because of him.  He made sure there was heightened security around their little home, always knew where you and Alec were at all times thanks to your connection through the bond and made his spy missions and jobs short to stay close by.  You knew that he was simply keeping his family close and safe, you weren’t going to argue with him when it came to that.  But you also knew that he would be consumed by the paranoia if it got too far.  Luckily you confided in your cousin, who made sure Azriel stayed sane. 

“Our sons are well protected,” Rhysand reassured Azriel as Alec was giggling at Nyx, “Their fathers and mothers are too powerful to let any harm come to them,”

“Along with their Aunt and Uncle,” Cassian hummed in agreement, Azriel looked at him and saw Cassian give him a short nod, “I’ll handle Eris on my own if he tries anything against our family,”

“Let’s leave him be for now, we have other things to talk about anyways,” Rhysand calmly steered the conversation out of bleakness and weary to a higher topic, “Your mate, my cousin, is due for a birthday pretty soon if I remembered correctly.  Around the same time as Summer Solstice, do you have any ideas?”

“A trip to the mountains,” Azriel explained, rolling his shoulders and letting the bitterness of Eris be released from his tension as he smiled at the mention of his mate, “I can tell taking her to the mountains brings her peace and quiet.  Thanks for letting us use your cabin, by the way,”

“Anytime you want to use it, you don’t have to ask,” Rhysand said with a softer smile, “And I think my cousin will like a birthday getaway.”

“Why don’t you let Nesta and I use your cabin again?” Cassian asked, almost in amusement but in curiosity as Rhysand threw a playful glare at the Commander.

“Because the last time I did that, I had to replace the furniture in the master bedroom, along with the tub that happened to be my favorite,” he cooly replied, though he chuckled as Cassian scoffed. Azriel still saw an underlying smirk on Cassian's face when Rhysand looked away.

“I'm also told to give you a subtle hint to not take your mate to the mountains until after her birthday,” Rhysand explained to Azriel as he gestured his head over to the door leading out of the room, “Apparently, Feyre and the girls are planning a surprise party for her at Rita’s, reserving the entire restaurant for the Inner Circle just for the occasion and for several hours that night,”  

“That’s mighty nice of them, I’ll be sure to remember that,” Azriel commented, then walking over to see Alec standing on his feet and holding himself up against the windowsill.  The sun shone through to lighten his face and his eyes, almost giving them the same shade of sapphires while he saw Azriel approach him.

“Dada!  Dada!” He called out, reaching out with one hand in his father’s direction as Azriel grinned.  Azriel loved hearing his son call out to him, babbling to him about his day when he would come home, or laughing when Azriel would tickle his sides or blow raspberries on his stomach. He was barely talking, saying a few words here and there but he mostly called for his mother and father. 

Azriel could tell in the way his son would hold himself up that he was ready to walk, finding his balance quickly and getting strong In his stance. Just like when Alec was learning to talk, you reminded Azriel to let your son take his time, even when Azriel was once again impatient and wished for his son to take the plunge and walk already.  He was already a speed crawler, amazing Azriel in how fast he would crawl all around the house, and Azriel would try and catch up with him every once in a while.  

If he was fast crawling, Azriel knew Alec was going to be a runner.

“Here, Uncle Az!  He likes this toy!” Nyx said to Azriel, walking over to hand him one of the stuffed toys.  Alec watched his three year old cousin give a toy to his father, his eyes wide as Azriel smiled at Nyxx.

“Thank you buddy,” Azriel said to Nyx, then he heard the small paddling of feet on the hardwood floor.  He looked, his eyes going wide and his mouth open in shock as Alec was walking, carefully and on wobbly feet, over to him.  His hands out to balance, yet his eyes were on Azriel as Rhysand and Cassian were watching as well.  No one wanted to move or break the tension that was there, but Alec was determined to get to his father, or perhaps to the toy in his hands as Azriel was watching in stunned silence.  

“Look at that…” Cassian said in a hum and a soft smile as Alec was now in front of his father, falling into his hold to grab the toy in his fingers.  Azriel hugged him tight, his stomach dropping at the sight of his son walking on his own.  More importantly, his son walking to him.  It felt like an out-of-body experience, Azriel scooping Alec to stand up and hug him close in his arms while Nyx clapped.

“He walked, see daddy?!  Alec can walk now!” Nyx asked Rhysand as Rhysand walked over to clasp Azriel on the shoulder. 

“It goes by fast, Az.  Before you know it, he’ll be flying with you in the sky,” Rhsyand informed him.  Azriel smiled, not realizing that he was on the verge of crying from seeing his son take his first steps.  No longer was he thinking about Eris, or of the potential target on the back of his family.  None of that was an issue at the moment, he only focused on the boy who was shoving the toy in his face and giggling at him.  This little being that had him wrapped around his lethal finger, that made him believe in an organic love just like his mother did, he was Azriel’s universe now.  

Azriel will protect his universe with everything in him.  

The End

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams

[limerental]

ficletvember 2023 - day 23

isengrim/dijkstra pwp ft. bottom dijkstra

On a rainy winter day, Isengrim and Dijkstra indulge together in bed.

Winters in Novigrad were a dreary slog, the streets slick with chilled rain and the sky dismal grey. Most days, the sun barely eked through the cover of clouds.

Fortunately, the top floor of the townhouse shared by a former spymaster and wanted fugitive boasted a cozy hearth and truly enormous canopied bed swathed in furs and quilts and pillows. Through the winter, only the most pressing of affairs could coax Sigismund Dijkstra out of bed. Or even into clothing. 

“Makes you miss Zerrikania,” he said, sprawled on his side to watch the rain track down the windows. On clear summer days, one could see across rooftops to the blue shimmer of the sea. Presently, the afternoon sank into fog. “Perhaps we should winter there from now on.”

“If we wintered in Zerrikania,” said Isengrim Faoiltiarna as he returned to bed, “you would complain of the heat and sun. And the sand. And the little creatures that crawled into your bed.” 

Dijkstra grumbled and rolled to him, nearly displacing a silver tray of assorted meats and cheeses which Isengrim managed to steady even as the large man tugged him close and drew him in for a lingering kiss.

“You’re one of the creatures that crawled into my bed,” he mumbled against Isengrim’s throat. “Not complaining there.”

He hissed a curse when the elf pressed cold toes against his shins.

“Was that a complaint I heard?”

"A minor one. If you’d quit slipping out of bed, maybe you’d warm up.”

“Someone has to feed the fire,” said Isengrim. “Otherwise, someone else will moan about a chill.”

“Fire’s high enough.”

The elf’s reflexes once more spared the food tray, safely settled on the bedside table as Dijkstra palmed his narrow hips and rolled them. Beneath the fur-lined coverlet and the press of Dijkstra’s body as his mouth trailed down his throat, Isengrim soon began to warm.

The warmth came at the cost of breathing as the man’s full weight settled. 

It was a pity that Isengrim could not forgo breath for the feeling of being wholly surrounded by him, pinned and held still in a way that would have heightened a flurry of anxiety in any other circumstance. 

He tugged at Dijkstra’s ear.

“If you smother me to death, you’ll have to fetch your own wine,” Isengrim whispered against it, kissing the abused lobe in apology.

Dijkstra mumbled and rolled them once more, the cocoon of the covers falling away as Isengrim sat across his thighs. In the firelight, the shadow of tattoos across his slender torso seemed to stretch and contort as he breathed, and the scar that disfigured his face swallowed every feature but the gleam of his eyes and the twitch of a crooked smirk.

“What’s that look for?” asked Dijkstra, both thumbs trailing back and forth along the muscled dip of Isengrim’s stomach. Hips swallowed by large hands, his fingers nearly brushed. He knew exactly what the elf liked. To be smothered and dwarfed to smallness, to be insignificant for a little while, held and consumed and overpowered. 

An easy feat for a man so large, though any other man would find a dagger in his gut for trying.

Isengrim knew also what the human beneath him liked.

He trailed a hand up Dijkstra’s ticklish flank to cup his ample chest and squeeze. 

“I like looking at you,” said Isengrim, and the man’s gaze darkened.

Not ordinarily one for insecurity or for vanity, there was something different in the sound of praise from the elf’s lips. It was not simple flattery or admiration of his body but a deeper sentiment that evaded words. Something like the ways I feel when I look at you still surprise me. How unlikely all of this is. Sharing a life with someone like you. Of all possible lives.

In return, Dijkstra’s hands smoothed up Isengrim’s ribcage, looking his fill with just as much pleasure. 

Their bodies were a perfect contrast. Isengrim gristle and hard lines, scarred and marked with ink, and Dijkstra soft and fat, belly and chest heavy with silvering hair.

Isengrim trailed his long fingers up through that hair from sternum to throat and hummed in contemplation.

“What’re you planning, Wolf?” Dijkstra asked, voice low with desire. Their hips rocked subtly together, equally aroused.

“I was thinking I’d like to fuck you,” said Isengrim. 

“How d’you want me?” 

The human’s pale eyes were washed brighter by the firelight. Isengrim wanted him to the exclusion of all else.

“Like this,” he said as he coaxed the man’s legs to spread and settled between them. “Lift that thigh. Shift up. There. How’s this?”

“Not bad,” Dijkstra hummed. “Now you can do all the work.”

Isengrim pinched the meat of his thigh and avoided a kick by ducking away for the jar of oil on the side table. He quieted Dijkstra’s griping with the searching press of slender fingers. 

They did not often switch their roles like this. Isengrim had little preference between the receptive or penetrative sexual positions, but Dijkstra had never allowed himself to be in such a vulnerable position before Isengrim asked it of him the first time.

Most of his past bedpartners had not entertained the thought, far too interested in his physical endowment. Not even Philippa had suggested it, who was both uninterested in his sizeable manhood and renowned for her skill with a wooden cock and leather harness.

Mindful of this act’s infrequency, Isengrim kept his preparations slow and measured. Of course, the pace was not to Dijkstra’s liking.

“You think I’ll break or something?” he grunted, though a flush creeping up from his chest betrayed his body’s response to the crook of the elf’s fingers.

“As you know, you dh’oine are quite fragile,” said Isengrim. Truthfully, the human’s muscles had already gone suitably lax enough to proceed, but he liked this feeling, to see the little signs of Dijkstra’s interest, to fully possess this powerful man in ways he would never allow any other.

A similar feeling could be achieved with Isengrim’s legs stretched across the human’s lap, muscles quivering as he bore down on the girth of Dijkstra’s cock to ride him with an unerring rhythm.

Maybe later tonight.

For now, Isengrim withdrew his fingers and hitched a heavy thigh in the crook of his arm, shuffling close enough to tease with the firm nudge of his erection. 

“Might be overestimating my flexibility,” huffed Dijkstra as he drew his leg further up to accommodate the elf. “Definitely overestimating my patience.”

“The fire’s looking awfully low,” Isengrim drawled, feigning as though to slip from bed.

“Don’t you dare.” 

The curl of Dijkstra’s leg around his body drew him closer, as though he could not easily wriggle free if he truly wanted to. A heel nudged insistently at the small of the elf’s back, and relenting, Isengrim adjusted the grip of his hand behind Dijkstra’s knee and shifted his hips to sink deep into the warmth of the man’s body.

Dijkstra clenched instinctively for half a moment and then breathed out a shuddering exhale. The laxness returned. Isengrim nudged their hips flush together. He was nowhere near so well-endowed as the human and bottomed out easily. His slick fingers felt where they joined, teasing there as he held still.

“You tired already, Grim?”

“Yes, Sigi, you exhaust me.”

Isengrim tipped his cheek against Dijkstra's raised knee and held a kiss there. He shifted, drew back, and began to drive down with steady thrusts, not sparing any measure of his strength. 

Urged on by fervent curses and taunts, their bodies rocked together. Sweat slicked Isengrim's grasp, settling to brace his shoulder under the raised knee. Dijkstra grunted at the change in angle, and Isengrim rested a sharp grin against his calf.

“Good?” he asked, smug, and the human swore more colorfully.

“Better if you kept at it, you lazy fuckin–”

Isengrim quieted him with an athletic show of muscle honed by years of desperate combat, now devoted wholly to this, the blunt-edged softness of this unlikely retirement. 

The position prevented them from leaning together to kiss deeply the way they wished to. The rain lashed the windows, and the fire burnt high.

When Isengrim's release crested over him in a sudden wave, he searched with a clumsy fumble for Dijkstra's cock pressed between their bellies. He knew exactly the pressure and speed needed in the curl of his fingers to swiftly draw out his climax in a messy spill between them.

Both groaned as Dijkstra's stiff leg dropped off Isengrim's equally stiff shoulder. The elf sat back on his heels a moment, both hands petting up and down the human's soft thighs.

“C'mere,” grunted Dijkstra, gesturing, and despite the mess and sweat of their bodies, Isengrim lay down atop him. Resting their foreheads together, they breathed into a slow kiss.

After a long moment with no sound but their steadying breath and the patter of the rain, Isengrim said, “you stink, Sigi.”

A laugh rumbled up through Dijkstra's chest. 

“I'll draw a bath if you get the wine from the cellar.”

“You go,” said Isengrim, rolling to pull the cover of a quilt around him, blinking coyly from beneath it. “Fetch me when the water's warm.”

Dijkstra's grumbles and groans as he tugged on a silk robe to rise from bed were all for show.

He could never deny Isengrim a thing.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Drops Of Bliss

by ItsMayBiTheWay The rain is only a light drizzle when Alex climbs the stairs to their brownstone, his satchel held firmly on top of his head to protect his curls. When his key turns in the lock, the pitter patter of David’s paws get louder and louder until he’s safely inside and there is a cute little furball in between his legs, already demanding belly rubs before Alex even has a chance to take his shoes off. As he bends down to shower his son with love, Alex calls inside. “Honey, I’m home!” And when he doesn’t receive his boyfriend's usual joyous answer, with David on his tail Alex starts climbing up the stairs in his socks, making his way to their shared study. And that's where he finds Henry, curled up in his reading nook by the bay window, one of the quilts his abuela knitted for them thrown over his broad shoulders, his battered copy of Persuasion lightly clutched in his hand. A soft rainy day in the Brownstone Words: 1253, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Multi Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue) Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Established Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Location: Brooklyn Brownstone (Red White & Royal Blue), Short & Sweet, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Boys In Love, No Angst, Inspired by Twitter, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, POV Alex Claremont-Diaz via https://ift.tt/NtRd45K

[lilybloom75]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ❄️NWT❄️ Nautica Men's Mixed Media Softshell Jacket Long Sleeve Quilted Coat.

[kitstorm]

if you were a calendar, what pictures would you have for each month? btw you dont have to answer with actual pictures (unless you want to!) you can just describe them lol

OOOH

January: Snowy mountain side. There are trees covered in snow, and a deer far in the background. The sky is grey

February: Pretty in pink cartoon! Hearts and bows and ribbons and cake and lace and a girl wearing a dress. All in bright pink and cartoony.

March: A photo of a rainy window on a rainy day. Out side there is blurry blobs of flowers blooming and bright trees.

April: A bright realistic watercolor painting. It's of a bird on a branch covered in berries with blue and green splotches in the back.

May: Its just a nice attic open to the sky with tea and books. Quilts and pillows are piled in the corner.

June: A photo of a picnic piled high with food and sweets and pastries.

July: Fire works! Its all dark with monochrome backgrounds

August: It's all a orange lineless digital art of a plain. Theres sun.

September: Ye Olde library with sunbeams falling on open books and notes. Magical looking diagrams sparkle in the sun.

October: The TMA entities icons

November: Scraggly trees, and falling leaves, and a steaming hot chocolate. It's drawn in the anime genshin style.

December: A painting of a cottage at night, covered in snow. Softly glowing incandescent lights glow underneath the snow, sparkling like the stars

[chicboutique2020]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Nautica Mens quilted Puffer jacket Small blue.

[poshhunter]

Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: Cole Haan Navy Blue Trench Coat New with Tags Men’s Size Large.

[bonzatrading]

🌞 Embrace the Power of Organization and Convenience! 🧺✨ Introducing the Stainless Steel Folding Clothes Hanger – Your Ultimate Indoor & Outdoor Drying Solution! 🏡🌿✨

Tired of tangled clotheslines and limited drying space? Say hello to the innovative telescopic balcony drying quilt artifact that will revolutionize your laundry routine! 🙌👚👕

🌈 Seamless Space Saver: No more clutter! This sleek folding hanger neatly tucks away when not in use, maximizing your living space and keeping things organized.

☀️ Indoor & Outdoor Magic: Whether it's a sunny day outdoors or a rainy one indoors, this versatile hanger has you covered. Enjoy the convenience of drying your clothes in any weather!

👗 Gentle on Fabrics: With its stainless steel design, this hanger ensures your delicate fabrics stay wrinkle-free and ready to wear. No more worries about misshapen clothes!

🏠 Balcony Beauty: Transform your balcony into a charming drying haven. The telescopic design lets you adjust the hanger's length to fit your space perfectly. Aesthetic and functional!

🌬️ Quicker Drying: Experience faster drying times thanks to the ample airflow around your clothes. No more waiting ages for your laundry to be ready.

Join the revolution of hassle-free laundry with this amazing household essential! Get yours today and wave goodbye to the laundry day blues. 🚀👚💨

Learn more

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSLgjCWFt/

#LaundryRevolution #HomeOrganization #StainlessSteelMagic

[tj-crochets]

The rainy day blues quilt is complete! This quilt is not intended for anyone in particular, it’s a “I had fabric and wanted to make a quilt” quilt

[bluedesignwall]

I spent my rainy afternoon in my sewing room re-organising and trying to make the space work a little better. I also got my steps by doing a bit of stitch walking. The end result was more hexies made and more accessible storage and the step streak lives on.

[tinypurpleparrot]

Thunderstorm

Going off what @cwahsont said the other day, it reminded me of a short I wrote a while ago about those lazy days where it’s just too cozy to get out of bed. I hesitated on posting it because it’s sort of non-canon for Starfall, but some fluff wouldn’t hurt after the past couple weeks for a lot of us.

Rating: T Words: ~1,300

*

Violet hummed in contentment and snuggled against her pillow under the mass of quilts. Breezehome’s roof slats were open on the far end of the room, filling it with the smell of morning rain. Soon someone would be up the stairs to try and coax her out of bed to go do something stupid like chores or dragon hunting. She wasn't moving. It was cold and rainy. The dragons wouldn't be out in this (or maybe they would if they knew where she was), and the chores would still be there in the afternoon. She could feel the slow rumble of thunder out on the plains; it wasn't so bad when it was so far away. But it'd be closer soon, and then she'd have to put her earplugs back in.

"Okay," she mumbled to herself. "I need tea. But I know if I ask someone downstairs, they're going to instantly remember that I'm not down there working. Never mind this is my damn house, paid for with my damn money, and my literally damned blood, and I'm perpetually tired and…"

"What kind of tea, Star," Kaidan sighed wearily. He sounded like he was directly underneath her at the hearth.

She blinked. Was she being that loud? And how did he hear over the storm? "Canis root, sen lu'he? Please?"

"If you're not feeling well, I'm not going to drag you out of bed. I know better, now."

She could already hear him pouring hot water. "Thank you. Plus, it's a nice morning and I want to enjoy the sound of rain and thunder. It's beautiful, and I never hear it back home unless I make it myself."

"This is a nice morning for you?" For Kaidan, it wasn't terrible, but at least he wasn't out in it. He'd had several times in his life where he was stuck out in a storm with little recourse but to wait it out.

"Yeah. Cozy. Warm. Soothing rain. Resting," she said, and a slow rumble of thunder agreed.

"Fair enough, then." A few minutes later, Kaidan made his way up the stairs with a big, blue and white striped, crackle glazed cup. He set it on her nightstand, then stood over her. "Anything else, your highness?"

Violet looked up at him. Of course, he only meant it playfully, but there was that slight bit of weariness at the back of it. "Thank you, again, sen lu'he." She frowned at him, then slipped a hand out of the quilts and held his. Or rather, a couple of his fingers. His hand (and the rest of him) was almost comically large compared to hers.

Kaidan couldn't figure if this was guilt or if she wanted something else, at least until she squeezed his hand and started gently tugging him down to sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Stay for a few minutes. Please."

Oh. "‘Til your tea cools, alright?"

"Like you held me when we were both healing from Bleak Falls."

His cheeks darkened slightly as he looked away. "You complained that I was smothering you. I didn't know that you don't like being hugged."

"I want you to understand what I'm feeling right now," she purred.

Now that tone, he understood. He wasn't sure if he wanted what passed for her advances right now, considering she was also having one of her moods. Kaidan had been with her long enough to know that when Starfall started in on feelings and emotions, that she felt them more strongly than anyone he'd ever met. Which very rarely turned out to be a good thing. But they were in a safe place, and there was nothing pressing on her to get done at the moment, so he gave in. He went around to his side of the bed and lay down.

Starfall threw a few of her pre-warmed quilts over him and sidled up close to hug his side. And he was immediately trapped. He never admitted it, but all that extra softness in all the right places that he would gently tease her about made her just too perfect to hold (and sap the heat from). Hearing her sigh happily and feeling her body cozy up against his very quickly changed his mind about trying to leave. He slid his arm around her to nudge her closer.

"Mmmm…" she nuzzled his chest. "See?"

She had a point.

"Listen to the rain and the rumble of thunder getting closer."

The patter of droplets collecting on the roof and running down the gutters. The loud 'shaah' as it washed the cobblestones of the main road clean. "Aye."

"Smell the tea you made for me."

Canis root, thankfully not named for smelling (or tasting) like dog. Combined with the rain, the room smelled like the middle of the deep woods of Falkreath. "Reminds me of quieter times as a hunter."

Violet nodded. "Reminds me of studying in the botanical gardens at Elinhir. Peaceful. Bright. Flowery."

"Yeah…" he sighed contentedly and suddenly found his eyelids getting heavy.

She didn't need words for the next part. Her free arm moved up, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and cupped his cheek. Even though she was slightly given to paying closer attention to the wildfires in his eyes when the passion of battle was driving him, his sleepy, dreamy, dim embers were a close second. Her fingers traced along his jaw and cheek, then lightly brushed his lips before pulling away.

'Damn it, dovahdin…' A small moan escaped from his lips just from her touching him there. Had it really been that long since he'd bedded someone? He realized (and hated) that that would probably make her hesitate and stop. She had no qualms about love itself. The inevitable end, though, wasn't something she cared about or needed at all. Bloody tease.

Violet did hesitate for a moment, though more in caution for whether or not he'd want those kinds of attentions from her. She could do love, fine. Hugging (with a bit of effort), kissing, feeling, smiling, words of affection, and indulging their senses. But the rest… "Sorry, Kai. I didn't mean to get you that caught up."

Looking into her big brown eyes in the candle light, it was a little hard to tell if she was all that sorry. "Can I have a kiss as an apology?"

She nodded and sat up a bit to get up to his height, then leaned in close and breathed, "Anything else, my brave knight?"

"Kiss first." He tested by gently brushing his lips to hers.

A sharp crack of thunder made her clutch him tightly and the kiss became a little more heated with her fingers digging into his back. He almost pulled away to snicker at the big, scary storm surprising the little dragon, but since a kiss was all he dared to ask her, he wanted to savor it. Breathing her in reminded him of the summer nights, hiding from the harsh storms and the forest floor blooming in celebration of a good rain. And the happy sigh of her approval instantly made him sorry he couldn't show her how much more of that she could have.

"Now you've got me not wanting to leave," he purred and lightly nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

Her response was to turn her free arm over and behind her, and wave her hand at her teacup until it started steaming again.

"Clever little thing," Kaidan chuckled. His lips traced along her jaw until they were close enough to hers to steal another kiss.

[sleepylixie]

3.1k words, Angst, Fluff (Romance), Non-idol AU

Kim Hongjoong X fem! Reader

Inspired by Love you Like Me- William Singe ( Playlist here )

Beware of Profanity, Heavy themes of infidelity, implied sexual activity 

The studio was loud, bustling with murmurs and movement, lighting being fidgeted with and artists putting in the final touches to the simple, neutral toned set. A shiver traced down your back as you watched people walk this way and that, preparing everything to be perfect just in time, just before the cameras begin rolling and the star of the show settles in front of the camera-

The steady buzz of your phone in your hand interrupted your train of thought. Took him long enough, you thought to yourself as you watched the name flash across the screen. Hongjoong. 

Not a couple of months ago, his contact’s name had been ‘loml’ with a red heart- how quickly things change. You knew he would call you before you were to go on-air, a tradition that he had unfailingly kept alive over the last 3 years. This particular call however, was different. Special. 

Because it was going to be the last. 

You would miss his calls, you mused as you accepted the call. His smooth, lilting tenor always greeting you with- 

“Hello, starlet.” 

The amused endearment didn’t make you smile like it used to. You used to shy away from it when you had initially started dating Hongjoong. Over the years, however, you had truly grown into a starlet in your own right so the inside joke was now laced with adoring truth. 

“Hello, my love.” 

Your voice was soft, mellow, the perfect replication of how you would respond to him in better times. Funny how a relationship you’d valued as much as your career had come down to pretence and secrets- 

“Are you ready?”  

The real question is, are you ready? The response was heavy on your tongue but you swallowed it down, letting a sardonic smile curl up the edge of your lips as you hummed into the phone, a show of contemplation.

“I think so.” 

If only he knew what you were talking about. 

“I’m sure you are, you spent so much time in the studios with Chris. Trust yourself, darling. You’re going to do amazing.” 

There had been a time when his reassurance would’ve given you enough motivation to rule the world- now though, it felt like nothing but a sham. Pretty, deceptive falsities that he kept up only for the sake of his promise to you. A game of make-believe he seemed to be amusing himself with. 

He was going to find out soon enough, you convinced yourself. He was going to find out soon enough that you were no game to be trifled with. 

The producer caught your eye, motioning to the set – it was time. 

“It’s almost time, I need to go.”

What a glorious double entendre this conversation was. 

“Good luck, my love. I’ll be watching the live.”

You hummed again before hanging up, coughing into your hands as you made your way to the set. The producer flashed a smile and thumbs up at you as you took your seat on the stool meant for you. 

“We’re going to be live in 3 minutes. Ready?” 

Between your makeup artist doing some final touches on your face and the sound technician checking the wires and mic-set for your in-ears, you returned the producer’s thumbs up with a confident smile- more confident than you were truly feeling, you were sure. 

“Ready.” 

All too soon, the 2 minutes had passed and you were sat alone in front of the camera, nothing but a mic in your hand as the producer did a countdown- Rolling in 3,2,1-

The first strains of the backing track flowed through your in-ears, your grip on the mic tightening as the repetitive, building melody washed over you like the tune of a haunted nursery rhyme. With the melody came the memories, a barrage of feelings tinged angry red and melancholy pink. 

After all these years, it seemed your love really had to end the way it began- mic in hand, lyrics at your lips and leaden heart in your chest. This time though, he wasn’t the healing balm, he was the twisted knife itself. 

Kim fucking Hongjoong.

“He never calls this late at night, no… But I can tell he’s been drinking all night long.” 

The studio was pin-drop silent except for the soft, dragging lilt of your voice. The track Chris had made for you could catch a listener’s attention all too easily- the magic your voice brought with it soon afterwards only served to hook the listeners more. 

You remembered slipping into the studio one rainy 2 a.m, scrawled sheets of paper feeling heavy and hot in your pocket. Chris had been rightfully concerned with your deceptively put together appearance, knowing exactly what had brought about the torrent of words you had thrown onto the table. 

Chris had always been safe, warm comfort for you- from the days of pulling all-nighters before graduation to the sleepless nights spent recording and producing in your shared studio, your friendship had come a long way.

But you’d shaken your head at him, urging him to look at the sheets. The memory of your pen slicing into the sheets was still burnt onto your fingertips, your vision almost blurring with tears as you scrawled every word that came to mind. Fiery, sensual, vengeful words seared onto the paper, a clear reflection of everything that had silently plagued you every night, every sunset, until you broke.

 “He sounds upset, I’m asking baby where you at, I called you earlier but you didn’t call me back…”

You met Hongjoong a little more than 4 years ago in a dive bar- him, the tired university student looking for a break and you, the evening’s entertainment. Your set had been entirely covers of moody love songs, reminiscent of your own sentiments- all you wanted to do was write your own music but it seemed all rookies were destined to be stuck with small gigs and other artists’ music. 

But for some reason, this one man with electric blue hair that contrasted- clashed, even, with his formal outfit had approached you after you finished your set. Only when he sidled closer to you did you noticed the paint splatters on his cuffs and the tiny earring dangling against his neck. The first thing he told you was that he had fallen in love with your voice and would love to get you a drink so he could hear it more. 

Even in the heartbroken haze you were in, you knew there was something about this odd patch-work quilt of a man with a sparkly smile that you couldn’t shake. Conversation had been uncannily easy after that-

Falling in love with Hongjoong however, hadn’t been a cakewalk by any means. 

 “He’s breaking down, I’m about to lose it… I’m screaming who the fuck were you with…”

Falling for Hongjoong was walking through fire and hail and ice; it was always expecting the worst out of each other but somehow ending up with the best too; to see each other as flawed humans before possible targets of affection. It took a good part of a year for the both of you to acknowledge any sentiment beyond friendship for each other, even more time to consider dating. 

He’d been hesitant at first- so had you. But as Hongjoong murmured to you that fateful evening your relationship began, the thought of not knowing how you’d be together was one he could not digest. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t agreed- but to disagree would’ve been a regretful lie. 

Over the years, it had always warmed your heart to have known without a shadow of a doubt that he would walk through all the world’s calamities for your hand in his.

Kim Hongjoong was perfect, after all. 

The perfect son of a perfect family, the visual arts graduate with a perfect score, the perfect fit for a job as an art gallery’s curator- Surely, his love was tinted with the same shade of perfection as the rest of him?

You were wrong. 

 “I grab my keys you better tell me where you at… he said he fucked up but there’s no taking it back...”

Kim Hongjoong was fickle as a wayward breeze where the matters of the heart were concerned. It was easier for him to let people love him, feel the adoration for him rolling off people’s eyes and bodies than be the person to love freely. Love was vulnerability to him, but gods, did he make vulnerability look gorgeous. 

Maybe the very reason he began to love you at first was because you didn’t care for his perfection.

His words still echoed in your ears sometimes, especially in nights that were woefully sober or afternoons that were hopelessly unproductive. There had been a time when the only things you remembered of the honeyed rasp was from your best dreams, promising you forever in every day- 

Not anymore. All you remembered now was the way he had sounded that night, alcohol and regret mixing badly in his veins, voice rough and stilted and broken as he asked you for forgiveness, for space in your heart despite his mistakes.

 “I gave everything to you and this is what you turn around and do…”

You wish you’d never driven to him after his teary confessions, hoping against hope he was pranking you and had only drunk too much to cater to common sense. You wish you hadn’t walked yourself to his best friends’ night club and have to witness the look of pity Seonghwa and San cast upon before handing Hongjoong over to you. 

You wish you hadn’t put yourself through the utterly tragic ordeal of picking up after him. Especially now, that you know how the future would look after that night. 

The memories steeled your voice through the smooth notes, the music rising and falling as the backing track began to build. You’d struggled to record this section of the song- your breath always seemed to catch and hold when you sang the words, your chest feeling too heavy, tongue too leaden to mouth the next lines. But today, the tune was like second nature to your lips, the sentiment almost easy to express. 

Surely he was watching now, wherever he was, the lyrics’ meaning sinking into his skin with every word. Some tiny, savage part of your brain hoped he felt the same cold terror and sense of unfairness you felt all this while- you hoped he would drown in it until it consumed him, soul and all. 

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

He’d crawled into your bed with you that night, holding you closer than he had ever held you in 3 years. Soothed your tears of pure disappointment and cried way too many of his own, your shoulders shuddering as you pulled each other closer. Murmured apologies a million times, over and over again against your skin as he curled his body around yours, until you fell into a restless sleep. 

You still remember the time-dampened images of the nightmare you had that night, the shadows laughing at you for being an inadequate girlfriend, an unfit person, that he probably cheated because you weren’t doing enough for him. You’d awoken a mere couple of hours after the both of you had nodded off, Hongjoong’s grip on your body still tight despite his state of slumber. 

Was he worried you’d wake up and walk away?

He would find you in your kitchen in his old shirt when he woke up anyway, tired eyes and tired limbs and enough coffee for 2 in the French press. 

 “I wanna know, every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you've been lying…”

A mistake, he’d called it. One-off error in judgement, a single moment in time he had chosen not to listen to his better sensibilities. It had happened once, entirely because of his lapse in judgement, he said. It would never happen again; he swore to you. Promised to you with your hands in his, earnestness in his gaze that you had never been subjected to until now- then again, he’d never given you reason to mistrust him until now. 

You’d asked for a promise from Hongjoong that day- a no-closed-doors policy on your relationship. It should’ve been a no-brainer as far as you were concerned, but it seemed that people like Hongjoong needed the reminder that not all people lived the way they did. That love wasn’t reckless free fall to everybody, a spark that burns fast and bright and fizzles out just as quick. 

 “I wanna know, does she fuck you like I did…I wanna know, and will she love you like I did…”

You wish you’d been less mature about the whole affair. 

Singing the words aloud only made you wish you’d thrown the words at him the first time it happened, instead of now, behind the safety of two screens and physical distance. You should’ve allowed yourself the sheer meltdown that the situation warranted, allowed the rage to take over your system even if it was for those few unfiltered seconds.

Hongjoong’s actions hadn’t deserved the maturity you afforded them. But you couldn’t blame yourself- in those fleeting moments, the primary emotions you had felt was that of inadequacy. You should’ve trusted yourself more.

 “Boy this ain’t how it’s supposed to be...Dancing between someones else’s sheets…”

After the burning hurt from the fiasco died down, it felt like Hongjoong had taken it upon himself to prove to you how special, how important, how absolutely irreplaceable you were to him. In the haze of it all, you ended up loving it. 

The once almost stoic man was now making an effort to be more to you, less of the disappointment he had caused you. He made an effort to talk to you, open up about his frayed relationship with love – hesitant at first and then naturally. 

I care about you. I love you; he’d murmured to the ceiling one night. You were silent, body resting against his as he arranged the sheets higher around your bodies. I wanted to know what we’d be like together and I haven’t regretted a second of it. I can’t imagine my days without you around.  A soft kiss planted against your hairline that you returned against the crook of his neck as sleep claimed you.

 “I can’t believe this is really happening, your guilty conscience is going to be the death of me..”

The next few months were a daily reminder of how much Kim Hongjoong had come to know you over the years of your relationship. Your favourite flowers turned up like clockwork at your desk every Tuesday, accompanying a note in his quick, scratchy handwriting – a new tradition of mid-week dates at experimental restaurants with oddly planned menus. Voice notes of his raspy morning voice sending you sweet affirmations that rung in your ears late into the afternoon. 

Even the way he touched you felt softer, more… reverent. Like he’d had a taste of what he stood to lose and never wanted to think of it again. As each day passed, you found yourself resting easy, basking in the attention and adoration and soft romance of it all.

Looking back on it, you should’ve known. What was it they say about a cheat?

They expect you to be loyal to them despite their faithlessness.

 “You got so caught up in the moment...But she’ll only love you when she’s lonely…”  

The second time it happened, the only thing your heart felt was a wildfire doused in rage and an almost crippling sense of treachery. A fellow artist in the same recording company as you had slipped into the studio late one night, just as you were packing up to head home. She’d pulled you to the couch on the side, holding your hands in hers as she hesitated before asking her questions- Are you sure your boyfriend is faithful? He keeps leaving the club I perform at with other girls?

Your fingers curled tightly around the mic, trying your hardest not to let your other hand clench the fabric covering your legs. You would give the world neither the privilege nor the misfortune of knowing how much truth this song really held. The world didn’t- no, Hongjoong didn’t deserve it. Not anymore.

 “This ain’t a game you better tell me where you're at, No boy, you fucked up and there’s no taking it back..”

You’d dropped by Hongjoong’s apartment that night, hands shaking in your coat pockets and head spinning from the rush of emotions. You had a spare key, and it was only a matter of dropping him a quick text before letting yourself in. Betrayal? Rage? Frustration? Disappointment? It was the disgusting cocktail in the pit of your stomach that led you to snoop through his phone while he was in the shower-

You wish you hadn’t but oh, you’d be damned if you weren’t glad you had.

He’d brought girls to his apartment at the end of so-called club hopping nights with Seonghwa. Every Friday. Ever since he’d made his ‘promise’ to you.

Every single Friday.

He’d bedded some random chick from the clubs and then turned up at your doorstep every weekend like nothing had ever happened.

Every. Single. Friday.

 “I gave everything to you …and this is what you turn around and do..”

You remember slipping out of Hongjoong’s apartment as quickly as you had turned up, faking an emergency at the studio to dash out the front door. Stubbornly holding your tears at bay as you drove back to your own neighbourhood, out of the car and into your apartment. Collapsing on your couch in a daze just as the breakdown began.

You still don’t know if the tears you shed that night were of anger or sadness- with the urge to destroy everything Hongjoong stood for, the only thing you wanted to do was never see him again.

For a second, you were transported back to that disaster of a night, the studio melting away into the familiar walls of your apartment, closing in on you as the despair and bottomless rage set in. There was an edge to your voice as you sang now, more angry than sad like before. Was he listening? Was he able to hear your farewell in the lyrics?

Was he panicking that you found out? Or worse, did he not care at all?

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

The next morning, you’d woken up with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, but with one clear motive seared into your mind- revenge.

You’d allowed him into your heart, let him build a home there for years and years. You had loved him every way you knew how to- broken at first, unconditionally later. You’d given him trust, a currency you were known to be stingy with- and he turns around and does this to you.

Maybe that was childish of you; maybe a more mature person would’ve broken it off that day, wallowed in heartbreak and made efforts to move on. But no, not you.

If Hongjoong had found it acceptable to take girls home while being in a relationship with you, he would definitely find it acceptable if you aired some of his dirty laundry yourself.

 “I wanna know every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you been lying..”

Chris had been concerned when you walked into the studio, looking almost entirely functional and not worse for wear at all.

It made sense, your best friend’s worry. It had only been 3 days since…since the incident and besides an update message, you had burrowed yourself at home and entirely unreachable. But here you were today, sheets of paper filled with your scrawl covering the table in front of you- lyrics.

Read them, you’d muttered, shoving the pages towards him- your hands shook slightly, the first crack in your façade. They’re a bit of a mess, but they mostly make sense.

Only you would remember being drunk off your mind on whiskey and later, wine the whole time. Alternating between feverish writing and heartbroken sobbing. Pretending to be completely fine to Hongjoong, telling him to not ‘interrupt your creative process’. Staring out into the starrless night skies and wishing that one day soon, Hongjoong would feel the hell you were feeling now. One day, you would look a camera in the eye and sing these lyrics out loud, for the world to hear, for him to hear. And you’ll be damned if that day, Kim Hongjoong didn’t get his final taste of who he’d just lost.

 “I wanna know…does she fuck you like I did, I wanna know,  will she love you like I did..”

Getting the right feel to the lyrics while recording the song had been all too easy, waving off Hongjoong’s curiosity about your newest project easier so.

It was a surprise for him, you would smile, dropping fleeting kisses against his cheekbones and jaw just the way he liked. He always smiled and dragged your mouth to his own, letting his smile slide against your own, murmuring that he was going to follow you into the studio to take a peek for curiosity’s sake. 

Talk often fizzled out at that point, because god, it was so difficult to stay away from each other’s bodies and out of each other’s arms after the long days of being your own people, strong and resourceful and adult and independent. It was easier to let your muscle memories take over, touch and sense and feel every single wretched thing that Hongjoong was so capable of making you feel.  

 “She won't do you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…she won't touch you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t get a wild sense of pleasure singing those lines, your eyes not leaving the camera pointed at you. Was it revenge well served? A broken heart being healed?

Over the weeks of preparing for the song, you’d realized how true those words were. The burning sense of betrayal and hurt hadn’t faded in the least- you still woke up every morning feeling lesser than, but never again. Never would you let anybody feel like this again.

Nobody would love Hongjoong like you could. It was about time he realized that. Pity, though, that you wouldn’t be around to witness it. 

“She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.”

The music fizzled out into silence, the producers counting down as you stayed still- 3,2,1 cut! In pursuit of the feeling of reckless freedom, Hongjoong had lost the one person he claimed made him feel like he belonged. How unfortunate for him, you mused, as the studio erupted in claps, the producers grinning widely and everybody smiling at each other. In the middle of the chaos, the door swung open- His eyes were wide, short blonde hair a windswept mess against his forehead, the single stalk of your favourite flower hanging limp in his hands. Surely there were paint marks on his cuffs, and the tiny earring would jingle prettily when he moved, but as his gaze met your dead ones, you could only think one thing-

She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.

Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think~ xoxo, Elliana.

Network Tag: @kpopscape​

[julies-butterflies]

Kiss prompt 25 with boggie (and maybe hinting toward Sickfic cause you know I love when these boys suffer 👀👀)?

50 types of kiss prompts  //   accepting!!  ( for jukebox, willex, reggielukejulie, boggie )

25.   Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

                         ( read on ao3 here! )

It says a lot about the current state of his life (and friend group) that when Bobby wakes in the dark to the soft echo of someone rummaging around in the loft, his first thought is not “someone broke in”, but “which one is it?”

Slowly, he pushes himself upright. While he doesn’t remember dozing off in the garage, the evidence is all around him. His back is stiff from dozing on the couch in an awkward position; his calculus textbook is still wide open on the table, the equations he only half-finished sitting next to it. Here’s Bobby’s first clue  ---  someone picked up his pencil, and made a few hasty, scribbled corrections in the margins, solving one of the problems he wasn’t able to get.

He’s also sure the blanket covering him now was folded on the other end of the couch before he passed out... and, leading from the doorway, a glistening trail of footsteps have tracked their way across the garage floor, leaving puddles along the way.

He sighs between his teeth, forcing himself to his feet. The trail leads across the floor, straight to the loft ladder. From the still-audible sounds coming from above  ---  not drowned out by the rain outside, which batters the windows and drums on the roof like the roar of a mosh pit  ---  the intruder hasn’t noticed he’s been noticed. Bobby takes care to keep quiet, ascending the ladder slowly. When he pokes his head through the floor, he has to squint to discern shadows through the dim light.

Sure enough --- there’s a dark figure burrowing around amid piles of junk. He’s wrestling with an old quilt buried at the bottom of one of the trunks, and losing. Even from a distance, Bobby can see the dark hair slicked against his temples, the water streaming from his sodden flannel to drench the wooden boards beneath him. He trembles in his damp clothes, shaky movements fueled by restless energy. No doubt, he didn’t realize how much noise he was making.

Bobby leans forward on his elbows, and rests his face against one palm. “For a second, I thought we had racoons. But racoons don’t usually stop to help with homework.”

The rustling stops cold. It’s a minute before Reggie turns; when he meets Bobby’s gaze, he looks like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“I, uhh ---” He huffs, then shrugs, sending off a hail of raindrops. “Figured since I was already breaking and entering, may as well pay you back somehow.”

“You know you don’t have to, Reggie.” Bobby folds his arms, balancing his chin on top of them both; his foot scuffs idly at the nearest ladder rung. This is far from the first time one of the guys has shown up at Bobby’s garage unannounced; since he never leaves the door locked anymore, it can hardly be called breaking and entering. There’s a makeshift bed up in the loft, and spare clothes in a duffel bag downstairs. They’re always welcome when they need it.

“Yeah...” The word comes out hoarse; Reggie has to clear his throat, ducking his face back into the shadows. “I know.”

A part of Bobby wants to ask  ---  but there’s no point, when he already knows the answer. When it’s Luke, it’s his mother; when it’s Alex, it’s his atmosphere; when it’s Reggie, the world is just too loud. I like how quiet it is here, he admitted once. It feels like a home. (A home, not his home  — there’s a big difference.)

So, instead of asking, he just shakes his head. “You could’ve called me. Or Alex. We’d have come to pick you up, instead of —”

“Alex hates driving on a good day. You want him to go out at night? In the middle of a rainstorm? All the way down to the beach, just to pick me up?”

There’s an edge of real frustration in his voice; and it’s Reggie, so that’s worrying, but Bobby’s own temper can’t help responding in kind. “Well, it’s better than you on your bike, freezing to death! Reg, you’re almost blue.”

For some reason, Reggie chuckles at that, ducking his head again. His sense of humor is as crooked as a wire hanger. Bobby’s learned not to question it, or try to follow the strange routes his mind goes down. With Reggie, it’s enough to just be along for the ride.

No matter how he got here, Bobby reminds himself, the important thing is, Reggie's here. He made it here, where he knows he’s always welcome… and there’ll be time to tear into him for his dumbass choices another day. Tonight, only three things are important: Reggie’s here, Reggie’s safe, and Reggie needs to get dry.

“You’re not sleeping in the loft,” Bobby declares, glancing around the dimly lit ceiling room. Aside from the cobwebs, it’s drafty and leaky up here; Reggie will catch a chill in a second, if he somehow hasn’t already. When Reggie opens his mouth to protest, Bobby just shakes his head, nodding downstairs. “The couch is more comfortable. Grab a blanket, okay? And go through what we’ve got — you gotta change out of those wet clothes.”

For just a second, a smile flickers over Reggie’s face — there one minute, gone the next. He doesn’t say anything, only nods… but Bobby reads his relief clear as day, and his gratitude.

It’s enough.

(No, it’s not — but he can’t change his friends’ shitty lives, he can’t protect them from the world, so it has to be enough.)

Bobby slips back downstairs, and busies himself making the couch comfortable. It pulls out easily into a bed; there are pillows tucked behind it for rainy days just like this one. He folds the blanket that had been tossed over him, and clears some of his papers off the table, just to chase away the clutter. By the time the loft ladder creaks, a few minutes later, the couch is as cozy as it will ever get.

Bobby turns, and almost sighs in relief at the sight of Reggie — in dry clothes, a grey t-shirt and dark sweatpants that hug his bony hips. Bobby never likes to think about how thin Reggie is… but when it’s presented to him like this, so intimately, there’s no way to ignore it. (Home cooked meals, he suspects, are as rare in the Peters household as a trip to Disneyworld; no wonder Reggie inhales any food they put in front of him.) He still looks pale, skin paper white and washed out in the gloom. Though he’s run fingers through his hair, it’s still wild, flyaway hairs clinging to his brow. He hasn’t completely stopped shivering, either, but at least he’s settled down. 

“Here,” Bobby says, nodding to the couch. He can’t help cursing himself; clearly, his bedside manner deserves awards.

Reggie isn’t bothered. He just steps forward, that ghost of a smile back on his lips. “Thanks,” he murmurs, and says nothing more. When Bobby steps aside for him, he settles on the couch, tucking the blanket  around him. Immediately, like a leaf tossed into a windstorm, he starts shivering again. Bobby grimaces.

“So, when you catch pneumonia, is the plan to just ride it out, or…?”

Reggie glances up at him. His expression steals the words from Bobby’s mouth. There are dark circles under his eyes, standing out all the more in his pale face; his lower lip is bitten raw, flushed and sore, and hands fiddle restlessly in his lap.

“Bobby,” he mutters, and something in his voice is… desolate. So absolutely freaking tired... drained and defeated... so wrong for a person like Reggie, who is made of enthusiasm. He’s the bubble of soda in a glass, the dancing blaze of a sparkler, the crackle of a firework, the lilt of a bass line. Reggie is alive in living color… and tonight, the rain has washed it all away.

Something in Bobby’s stomach twists. His heart rattles against the cage of his ribs. Impulse spikes within him, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he has already settled onto the couch at Reggie’s side, and opened his arms wide.

“Okay. Bring it in.”

Reggie’s eyes widen. Touching isn’t Bobby’s thing. It’s Luke’s, sure, and even Alex’s. They’re both all about that casual affection, with too much love to be contained. Bobby shows his affection in quieter ways — a steadying hand, a late night drive, paying for take-out when he knows his friends’ pockets are light. He’s never been sure how to handle all the touching which comes with the package, with the Sunset Curve boys; he’s never known how to start.

Tonight, though, Reggie’s here, and he needs it. So, just for tonight, Bobby is officially a hugger.

“Come on,” Bobby encourages; and that’s all the prodding Reggie needs to gently tuck himself against his friend’s chest.

He doesn’t expect how well Reggie fits there, like a puzzle piece naturally slotting into place. He knocks the breath from his lungs without trying; even as long arms come to wrap around his chest, and a damp head ticks against his collarbone, it takes Bobby a minute to adjust. Yes, he asked for this — he reminds himself of that, as his own arms come up to wrap Reggie in an embrace — but Reggie’s so much better at it, and he’s not sure where to go from here.

“Bobby,” Reggie mutters into his chest. “You have to relax a little, otherwise how’m I supposed to?” He tilts his head up. “I’m the half-frozen one here, but you’re like hugging a scarecrow.”

Bobby snorts. Reggie looks up a little more. His eyes shine dark in the dim studio light as his brows furrow. “Do you not want me to —“

Bobby hushes him with a shake of his head, and pulls Reggie closer, tucking the blanket around them both. Slowly, he leans back against the couch. It seems like the thing to do to relax — and Reggie agrees, if the soft noise of contentment he makes is any clue. He’s still shivering a bit against Bobby’s chest; his voice carries an ominous rasp, and whenever he breathes out, it sounds unsteady. Bobby brushes against his bare arm, and is immediately struck by how cold Reggie still is; even holding him like this, the chill begins to seep into his own skin.

Bobby will soak up every ounce of it, if it means Reggie can be comfortable again.

So, he pulls Reggie close, rubbing a hand up and down his back in broad, earnest circles. He breathes out against the crown of Reggie’s head, hot and repetitive; a few times, he even rocks him, just to get the blood flowing back through his limbs. Reggie doesn’t protest. He barely even moves. It takes a while for their legs to tangle together under the blankets. His arms tuck under Bobby’s; his ear comes to rest over his heart. Slowly, his entire body curves into Bobby’s own, ravenous for any ounce of heat a warmer form can provide.

Even as he does this, he seems to melt, and Bobby knows — just knows — this is the first chance he’s had to really relax in days.

“Exhale, Reg,” he murmurs without meaning to. When Reggie stirs against him, meeting his gaze with furrowed brows, Bobby is suddenly relieved he’s never been able to blush. (Compared to Reggie, who could gauge the weather by the color in his cheeks.)

Still locked into his gaze, Reggie breathes out, in one long gust. It chills Bobby’s jaw.

“You’re so cold,” he mutters.

“Not anymore,” answers Reggie. “Not with you.”

He’s left a damp patch against the front of Bobby’s shirt, and his hair’s still wet. As Bobby watches, a droplet trails its way down his temple, stopping just as it reaches his ear. Before Bobby can think twice, he brushes it away with one gentle hand… and allows his fingers to linger over Reggie’s jaw a second too long before pulling away.

Reggie isn’t staring into Bobby’s eyes anymore. He’s hypnotized by his lips.

And well, Bobby reasons, there’s no better way to warm him up.

That's his justification for not feeling like a horrible person, when he leans in and captures Reggie’s lips with his own.

There’s nothing forceful about it, nothing demanding; the last thing Bobby wants is to take, only to give what little warmth he can. Yet as Reggie stays frozen against him for a moment too long, an icicle of dread pierces Bobby’s chest. He’s just begun to pull away, an apology already on the tip of his tongue, when Reggie suddenly catches him by the back of the neck with one icy hand, pulling him back down.

Bobby’s breath catches; Reggie catches him. For a minute, it’s all either of them can do to be near each other, moving with and against each others’ mouths in slow, earnest rhythm.

Heat? Oh, no — heat isn’t a problem anymore.

When they finally pull back, Reggie’s lips are flushed, his cheeks bright red — there it is, Bobby thinks, with a flash of victory. His breath is heavy against Bobby’s chest, but there’s a smile on his lips all the same.

“I mean,” he says, and pauses for a breathless chuckle, “yeah, sure, that works too.”

Just as Bobby begins to smile, Reggie suddenly jerks forward. His laugh turns into a gasp — and then he’s coughing hard against Bobby’s collar, entire body heaving with it. It’s all Bobby can do to steady him, keeping one hand on his shoulders as he struggles to catch his breath, until the worst of it has passed.

“Damn it,” he mutters, once Reggie has gone limp again. “You’re totally gonna get me sick.”

“I’ll try not to,” Reggie offers generously against his collarbone.

“No, you won’t,” Bobby replies, knowing it’s probably too late already — and also, that he doesn’t really care, so long as he can keep Reggie warm and dry through the night.

When Reggie lifts his head to smile at him, Bobby brushes the rain out of his hair, and grins right back.

[lilybloom75]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ❄️NWT❄️ Nautica Men's Mixed Media Softshell Jacket Long Sleeve Quilted Coat.

[mixedfandomer]

So I translated a phineas and ferb episode way to many times try to guess which one it is p.S I would love to see someone make this

(I don’t know how to add those continue reading things so you don’t have to scroll for a long time sorry)

Phineas: And how do you like red and blue toothpaste?

(A mysterious capsule falling from the sky)

Phineas: Wow. Hmm, it looks like it just fell out of the sky.

(shows the color of an umbrella)

Phineas: I think so. Open it and check the contents.

(Farb jumps out of an umbrella and goes to the box. He tries to open it).

Phineas: Wow. It's a day full of questions. First the toothpaste, then this.

Color: And of course, "Where's Perry?"

Phineas: Yes! do you know what i said? We are in the secret wing!

(from Perry's shop)

Major Monogram: Oh, Officer P. Glad I came here. Duvenschmilz was unavailable for a long time. Do something right or cheat. Man, it was a little sudden. Sometimes I feel like taking on assignments here.

(Phineas and Ferb cross the garden. A scream is heard.)

Phineas: Oh, the dress. He will break this third rule with an ax. Sorry Dumpio.

Dampamir: The name is Dampamir!

Baljeet: Wow! You can't log in because the content makes you more attractive!

Phineas: Don't you know? Fortunately, Farb is working on a special Z-ray machine that can see every substance on the periodic table. It's a great test, so it's best to wear this bulletproof lead jacket.

(fire car)

Color: Well, we can't see the haircut, but it has holes in the second molar. Looks like Ms. Shapiro is making Garcia Creplach's tortillas.

(Court:)

Doofenshmirtz Evil is involved! ??

(Perry enters. Dr. Duvenschmilz is missing.)

(The flashbacks begin in black and white. Duwenschildz is on his bad blog.)

Duvenschmilz: (A blind man grabs it and screams)

(Perry saw a new prisoner. Duwenschildz was covered up. Perry saw Duwenschildz's footprint).

Duwenschmilz: Hey! This is my lunch!

(Pine and Ferb in the courtyard. There is a piano in the box).

Phineas: I think I'm really running out of ideas here.

Isabella: You play the piano.

Baljeet: Can I buy a flute pipe?

Buford: the secret to making room for a new printer!

Phineas: Is that so?

Buford: Ok! As you know, the Van Stom family has been the holder of the secret knowledge and the holder of the Secret Box for generations. The 13th century turned the Templars' wrath into a massacre. Our family kept it hidden from uneducated people all their lives. When we did, all we found was a key that could reveal the secrets of the box.

Baljeet: Is that true?

Buford: No, just kidding. On the other side I found a wall. When the coffin fell from the sky, I saw the lock drop.

Phineas - Worth a try.

(pear cut)

Main Monogram: Great job. Agent P. Karl scans a fingerprint from Doof's apartment.

Carl: If you have a variability analysis, there seems to be a lot of caffeine molecules. with rainwater.

Large Monogram: Our only meaning is coffee and rainy sky. It can happen anywhere!

(The stop is in a darkroom with Seattle, WA. Duvenschmilz Barrel Accessories)

Duvenschmilz: Uh, hi! Who is here? Mark! You must be in heaven! This should be a satisfying explanation when I'm done, or when I'm blogging!

(Cut down the pine and Ferb's garden. Ferb puts the key in the chest.)

Phineas: Yes, honey!

Baljeet: What is your secret? Maybe a dozen missing Schrödinger cats?

BUFORD: But I didn't have privacy.

(opens the capsule)

(all pants)

Baljeet: Why do you smoke like that?

BUFORD: And why are we all suffering?

Cornelius: Oops, sorry!

Crazy Old Man: What do you think you did?

Phineas: Who are you?

Crazy old man: It's me! from the future!

(all pants)

(Cut the spleen into a quilt. Remove the mask from the shadow mask)

Duvenschmilz: (panting) Peter Panda? Oh, that was my good chance. That's all. While. And it was terrible, everyone was staring with crooked noses and had to talk about it.

Suspect: Hello, Duvenschmilz!

Duvenschmilz: Hello, what do you get, the black figure walking in the dark?

Suspicious Character: Mystery Professor, it's me.

Duvenschmilz: I understand.

Professor's Secret: Did Panda Stone Take My Name?

Doofenshmirtz: No, but I don't really speak. Can you tell me why you kidnapped me? Hmm bye! I know you are still here. I can't see the apple of your eye. What is silence? It is very unconventional.

Professor Secret: secret.

Duvenschmilz: Oh. This is going to be a fun interview.

(The courtyard of Phineas and Ferb)

Phineas: Please stay a while. Do you want to know what's happening to my nose?

Crazy old man: Don't worry about our nose ... This. Hear it when a hamster runs, a black hole breaks control and something breaks. You have now opened my hamster area! It's just a moment before it slows down!

Baljit: Wait, is a hamster allergic to air?

Crazy old man: Trust me!

Baljeet: What?

Crazy Old Man: Because I'll be here in the future!

Baljit: Wait, won't I be Indian in the future?

Crazy old man: "Okay! See you in the future.

Isabella: Yes, it doesn't make sense.

Grandma: Stop telling people about you from the future!

Phineas: Who is it?

Crazy Old Man: I'm just Dennis. ignore. There is no future person.

Dennis: I heard it! Hi guys, sorry if I disturb you.

Crazy old man: there is no time to waste!

Dennis: Calm down, Bernie! Don't forget your blood!

Bernie: What did I do to you? So what slows down?

Dennis: Oh, go! I am a sick hamster who rules our lives!

(The box beeps.)

Phineas: What is there without batting an eye?

Baljeet: Not good.

Buford: Well, you've played a lot of pianos.

(Put the professor's husband in a moving box and bite into the scented sponge).

Duvenschmilz: Seriously, what was the kidnapping? And what good is a temple hanging over the petro panda?

The Professor's Mystery: Why I'm Peter Panda's Enemy.

Duvenschmilz: (pants)

The Secret Professor: Are you surprised?

Duvenschmilz: Sure. But if you know anything about the enemy company, please do so. I don't want to be another bad scientist. (See Professor Inator of Mysteries) Oh! Enjoying! Why does he do it?

The professor's secret is a secret I cannot reveal.

Duvenschmilz: ... your beauty. Yes, I know. Will you give me your advice before or after trying to catch Peter the panda? It's just ... Even in the research phase.

The mystery of the teacher: I don't say anything. The secret gun ... it's mine

Duvenschmilz: But he's your enemy! He knows what bothers you! So this is a generic title! What do you expect from her with your story? (The secret has been cleared.) Don't stay, oh no. Don't tell me, you've never told your inner story! ok i have a problem! This is your problem!

The Professor's Mystery: What?

Doofenshmirtz: Lack of communication. Give me a shot (a rhythm is established and a chorister appears out of nowhere).

(song: talk to him)

Duvenschmilz - you can do it in secret

You don't have to be so selective. ??

Chorus Girls: Too erratic! ??

Duvenschmilz: Make history your secret enemy;

For all the reasons why ...

Duvenschmilz and the girls' choir: rotten eggs. ??

Doofenshmirtz: (ooh while the choir girl is in the background) not enough to show her skill;

You have to tell him how you feel. ??

I guess you will be surprised that their attention is being held

I can only understand

Tell him about all the bad plans you have for ...

Duvenschmilz and the showgirl: you have to ...

Duvenschmilz: Talk to him

Choir Girl: Oh! ??

Duvenschmilz: Tell him ...

Duvenschmilz and Chorus Girl - all my plans came to mind

Duvenschmilz: Talk to him

Choir Girl: Oh! ??

Duvenschmilz: Announcement ...

Duvenschmilz and Chorus Girl: Give her everything you fear. ??

Duvenschmilz: Talk to him. ??

Now...

Duvenschmilz and the Chorus Girls: Stay there like a rock. ??

Doofenshmirtz - he has two furry ears to wear

Dancing girls: wear it! ??

Duvenschmilz: I know you really want to hurt him

Choir girls: Dig! ??

Duvenschmilz: But I think I'll lose you if I don't speak

Dancing girls: I want to talk

Duvenschmilz: communication is essential

When you open you can understand

And maybe it bothers me.

Duvenschmilz and Chorus Girl: you're right! ??

(The number ends and the girl has disappeared).

Mystery Professor: How did you get this girl to dance?

Doofenshmirtz: These are the unions, they are leaving.

(Go back to the courtyard where the hamster slows down.)

Bernie: (while Finna holds on) there's only one way to beat him! and listen with your ears! (A red bird in the wind comes out of your beard.) Hey Velleius, I found your bird!

Velleio: Really? where he was

Bernie: How boring! However, there is only one way to improve it! (crying and screaming)

Isabella, Buford, Baljit: No!

Finius: Hurray, everyone! Get the tree!

(They do.)

Isabelle: What are you doing now? !!

Baljeet: This is definitely the only time the camera has disappeared again!

Buford: Yeah, bad model break!

Isabella: Well, she is not a model! Subsequently, the model will disappear.

(remote effect)

I mean, Candice!

(Candice enters the room where she is still listening to the music. Then Chaos looks through the window and walks straight into the box.

Candice: (pants) mama mama mama mama mama !!!

(she goes back to the mysterious cave).

Mysterious Professor: The last person I recommend, you are a hostile thief!

Duvenschmilz: You can't undo it with a musical instrument. Hmm! I'll say it's not my fault that you and Peter are in trouble. It's yours!

The Professor's Secret: (Active Inator) The Secret Inator is an active lens wrapped in a real lens, I know who it is! Under favorable circumstances you will be nervous and full of revenge!

Duwenschmilz: (sigh) Yawn! So I was more concerned if I knew what was going on. YY-Become a man (sighs again)!

Secret Professor: Hmm?

(Burned by a plague on the wall. Peter Panda has come to the other side).

Duvenschmilz: Peter Panda! Wow, I'm not very happy to see my rainbow enemy.

Mysterious Professor: Peter Panda is not your enemy!

Duvenschmilz: Yes. He is not the enemy. H-h-this is a slow project.

Mysterious Professor: Do you want it to fall like this? (Peter accuses him) Do you understand? I am touched! Here it is, Duvenschmilz! (sighing) Yes, it is! (another shot) Do you understand? feel good. What did you give that I couldn't give you?

Duvenschmilz: A bad part of the internal dialogue!

Mystery Professor: What?

Duvenschmilz: Communicate! Oh cry! In any case, tell me what makes you turn off!

Mystery Professor: What? Oh yeah! There is no author!

Duvenschmilz: What? !! ??? ?? !! Hey, I'm worried! Clock! Communication I can do it.

(Perry finally enters, flips the switch, shoots from the ceiling, bounces a space pin.)

(He goes back to the terrace.)

Buford: I can't take it anymore! one day my friend

("Tough Gum" Song (Instrumental))

Advertiser: Durable Shoelaces!

Buford: - Wash! He lifts the branch and flies away.

(Once in line, Inator throws a bolt of lightning at the box, and once in line, Candice's mother follows him into the yard.)

Candice: Hurry up, Mom! To move on! What? !!

Baljeet: I didn't get hurt like I expected.

BUFORD: Yes, thankfully.

(Modest case where Mysterio and Peter talk so that Douffensmritz and Perry can see each other from the window.)

Mystery Master: So my parents accidentally created a black hole, got hooked on it, and went into orbit so that there was no danger to the planet, but in the process. At first I'm furious about it, and in the end you make me a nonexistent emperor, whom you killed tonight! Wow, what fun to tell someone!

(A crazy old man comes out of the yard to see him.)

Bernie and Denise: Son!

Mystery Master: Mother? Father? !! They will be called back! (hugs her).

Velleio: Oh ...

Mysterious Professor: Meet my enemy Peter Panda.

Bernie: Do you have any archenemies?

Denise: All of our kids are adults!

Bernie: Why is it a panda?

Dennis: Bernie!

Bernie: What? I was just thinking.

(Doofenshritz and Perry drop them).

Doofenshmirtz: Come on, Platypus Perry. Let's go home, I talk to you a lot, right? Yes, maybe you are right.

(He goes back to the terrace.)

Linda: Kids, why don't you come for lunch? And if he meets your father, ask him to come with us.

Candice: But, but, but ... Okay.

Finius: Intense, color. Planets can also explode and break the space continuum. I hope you have not suffered any real damage. (The bears appear next to them.) Oh, father! If you want to join, mom is having a lot of fun!

Polar Bear (voice of Lawrence): Oh boy, very good. I'm a bit bored.

Finius: Maybe the cake is still there.

(Another sees Phineas' back hole as the boy goes through the hole, proving it is true that Phineas and Ferb are working on a machine that turns humans into flies.)

Vera Finnius: W Noteworthy! What was the fate! We did

True color: can't. Here Phineas has four white shirts and you only have three.

Phineas: Okay. It must be said: Our father is not a bear.

[chicboutique2020]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Nautica Mens quilted Puffer jacket Small blue.