#unfuckitall

[sweetfirebird]

the king in the kitchen

Charity prompt: Will and Chester at Christmas for unfuckitall on tumblr

 For Holly and Oak, obviously. 

“You live like this?” Will stared into the depths of Chester’s refrigerator as if he couldn’t believe how empty it was.

It was for show. Will must have seen the inside of the refrigerator when he had helped Chester home on the Solstice, or the evening afterward. Once Chester had slept for a day and gotten some of his strength back, he had realized, much too late, that Will would have gone looking for food in Chester’s deplorable kitchen, so he had spent an hour the next day hurriedly throwing away old takeout containers and expired cartons. The refrigerator looked much better than it had, if significantly emptier.

Chester wrapped his arms around his chest and answered huffily. “I am very busy.”

This was also for show. Chester’s face was warm and he was smiling uncontrollably at the sight of Will Battle poking around in his kitchen.

“Not in the wintertime,” Will pointed out, reasonably and yet pointedly. He was a wicked, wicked man.

Chester gazed at him with what was undoubtedly an expression of helpless adoration on his face. “I can’t make food,” he defended himself stiffly anyway. “It won’t turn out right.”

“You make ice cream. For a living.” Will turned from his study of a few condiment bottles and perhaps some butter to catch Chester mid-adoring stare. He startled, then froze, then moved on to the pantry before Chester could compose himself.

Chester had had a long few days. He was still recovering. He still felt like a failure of a Sibley for everything he had revealed.

Rather fortunately, he did not mind disappointing his ancestors.

Will cleared his throat a few times from the depths of the pantry, which, since Chester’s house was old, was a tiny room off the kitchen. “You also make a lot of treats to go with the ice cream,” he added, with just the slightest catch in his voice. “All of them delicious.”

Chester forced a frown onto his face that he didn’t feel. “Of course, they’re delicious. I made them.” He dropped his raised chin to his chest, then sighed. “Ice cream, however, is not really food.” He shouldn’t have to explain this. He didn’t like to explain this. It made him… a bit… something; he had never untangled the exact emotion. Envious or ashamed or embarrassed. Like it was a failure to be human, to be able to do something as simple as make eggs that weren’t dry, or rubbery, or burned. To make spaghetti that wasn’t mush. “I can’t make nourishment,” he hissed furiously, though the anger was directed at himself for still being bothered by this.

There was silence from the pantry, and then Will emerged, holding several of Athenais Sibley’s finest potions and one jar of maraschino cherries, all of which he put on the counter. He raised his eyebrow at Chester before he set the cherries down. The gesture sent a little thrill through Chester, despite everything.

“Sometimes, I like to just eat the cherries,” he explained with only a tiny bit of dignity.

“And you don’t have to cook them?” Will guessed—correctly. “I’d judge you less for eating waffle cones when you’re tired.”

“Sometimes, they’re breakfast.” Chester wrinkled his nose.

Will crooked a smile. It sent another shiver down Chester’s back.

“You know,” Will began then, in a voice that would have reminded Chester that Will was ascendant now, if Chester had even once forgotten, “when Sophie Babelin lost her father last year, and could barely make herself do anything, she pretty much lived off your ice cream.”

Chester abruptly had to also go to open his refrigerator and stare at the contents. He did have some butter. He’d thought so.

“I didn’t know that,” he said at last. “No one told me. She never came in.”

“Her friends got it for her.” Will came up behind him. Soon, they would both be staring at nothing.

Feeling foolish, Chester closed the fridge door. “You understand what I mean, though, don’t you?” he asked without turning around.

Will’s hands skimmed down Chester’s sides, then disappeared when Chester made a small noise that was not a squeak. Will stepped away.

“Well,” he said calmly, with the composure of a king, “I can cook.”  

The very idea of Will Battle in Chester’s freezing kitchen, preparing food, was enough to make Chester frantically picture matching aprons and shared meals and slippers by the bed. “They give presents at Christmas,” he murmured, idiotically, like an idiot, and then shut his eyes hard. It was Christmas, as much of the town around them celebrated it. Christmas Eve, in fact. Chester had nowhere to go to buy Will slippers, and no excuse to give them. For once, Christmas might have been useful.

“So they do,” Will answered, as if he saw nothing strange in Chester’s words or general behavior.

Chester opened his eyes. “Did your aunt teach you to cook?” He knew the answer was yes. What else could it be? Sia Battle would not have done any less. “And you want to do that, for me, in my neglected kitchen? On the eve of their Christmas celebrations?”

There was possibly no better time. No one in the coven cared about the day, and everyone else in town that they knew would not be bothering them. Even their familiars had decided to spend the evening huddled close before the fire, and had not moved for hours.

“Oh good, I’ve pleased you.” The smug note in Will’s voice was something else for Chester to hold carefully to his chest and blush over, while also giving a huff for the sake of old habits and the Sibley name.

“You know very well you have, my lord, just by being here.”

Chester coughed after the quiet admission, and raised his head in time to catch Will staring. “Should I help?” Chester wondered, voice only a bit huskier than usual. He had been too tired on the day of the Solstice and the day after for much beyond kissing Will. Then they’d both had work and family matters to attend to. This was the first night they had both been free since then. Maybe that was why they were both stuck like this. Thinking of that night, but watching each other like this was their first date.

It was either their second or their third; Chester couldn’t decide. And that was only if he counted drinks with Mercy, which he did, because Mercy would.

“The bigger issue is: you don’t seem to own food.” Will raised an eyebrow again.

Chester wanted to kiss it.

“I often forget to shop,” he informed Will with some pride. “And this week, I’ve been…”

“Yes?” Will was smug again.

“Cruel man.” Chester crossed his arms again. This week he had been more distracted than usual. That was what he should have said. All he did say was, “… with you. This week I’ve been with you.” Because Chester was tired, and his kitchen was cold and unloved, and Will was in a very nice sweater that Chester wanted to bury his hands in.

Will’s stare held a life all its own.

The sweater was soft against Chester’s palms. The space beneath it was warm with Will’s body heat. They seemed to be touching. Chester had no memory of crossing the kitchen to him.

“I am very distracting,” Will said, with a hum beneath the words, like spring. Like happiness and fucking. Chester had pleased him in return.

“I can order in some food, if you’d rather,” Chester suggested, and it was easier now to bend a little and put his head on Will’s shoulder. “Some places are still open.”

He didn’t think his real suggestion was that subtle, but either it was, or Will full of power enjoyed teasing him. “You don’t want me to cook for you?”

Chester raised his head despite knowing the hurt in Will’s voice wasn’t real. “Are you kidding? Even if Sia hadn’t taught you, I’d love it, but that’s the king in my kitchen! That’s… this is only number three, and I want… I want…”

“You want?”

“I will want,” Chester corrected himself, studying Will’s laryngeal prominence, “more of it.”

He had pleased Will again. He got a smile.

“My lord has to eat, does he not?”

“Yes, but—”

Will was so bossy when the power was freshly returned to him. “And the king as well, if he is with him?”

Chester leaned down again to complain into Will’s skin. Will was warm to the touch but not as much as he would have been someplace else. Like Chester’s living room before the fire, or Chester’s bed.

“If you make dinner, I can make dessert,” Chester offered. “I don’t know what. But there are all sorts of desserts only made this time of year. I can probably manage one of them. A frozen hot chocolate, maybe? Do you really want to…” he trailed off, glancing up, then pulling back to get a better look at Will’s pleasure. “Ah. Yes. You do. Because you….”

Saying it was still too hard. The feelings between them were not delicate, but putting them into the air, shaping them and leaving them to fall to the ground was nearly too much. They might break.  

“It will snow again soon,” Chester finished, instead of any of that. “If we’re running out to the stores before they close, we should go now. We can split up or—no.” Will shook his head slowly. “Be reasonable,” Chester tried to scold. “If we go together, people will say things. Which… you don’t care about, but I suppose it’s a habit for me to…” He pulled in a breath. “I can’t think if you’re going to stare at me like that.” The crooked smile briefly returned. “William,” Chester whined, out of breath and hot, and Will kissed him for it.

Chester was almost dizzy when Will finally broke away. “It might be snowing already,” he said in a faint voice, knowing that it was. “We’ll have to hurry.”

Also breathless, but considerably more smug—and yet attractively so—Will pulled Chester behind him as he went back out into the living room. Goodwin and Tabitha didn’t even twitch, because they were sensible creatures who weren’t rushing back out into the new snowfall.

“Where did you put your coat?” Will asked while pulling his from the back of a chair. “And that scarf Mercy gave you for Christmas? With the reindeer on it? Didn’t you tell her you don’t celebrate? Ah.” He found the scarf beneath his coat and tossed it to Chester’s shoulder.  

He was practically glowing with confidence and joy.

“I hate you,” Chester told him.

Will barely paused to look at him. “You don’t.”

“I don’t,” Chester agreed, so mildly he almost felt like someone else. Someone happy. “What are you going to make for me?”

“A surprise,” Will replied, enjoying himself. “Can we have regular hot chocolate?”

Chester didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Will had to let go of Chester’s hand to put on his coat. “But from scratch?”

“Yes.” Chester was almost insulted. If there was one thing he did, it was respect winter treats. Anyway, Will didn’t take to the cold like Chester did. Hot chocolate from scratch it would be. Sprinkles and whipped cream would be essential.

With a contented, embarrassing sigh, Chester pulled the scarf with the reindeer down and stepped in to wind it slowly and carefully around Will’s neck. “You need it more than I do, you know,” he whispered, face flaming at the sound of his own tender worry. It was terrible to be so fond of Will in a way that Will could see, but when he looked up, Will was smiling, and that was a fair exchange as far as Chester was concerned.

Will whispered back. “And we’ll eat at my table.”

Chester swallowed dryly, tingling with warmth without even his gloves on. “Yes, my lord.”

Will leaned in, nearly pushing their foreheads together. His gaze was a promise. “But first, your coat.”

Chester did not feel the cold as Will did. Nonetheless, he nodded. “First, my coat,” he agreed, and grabbed it absently as Will took his other hand and led him out into the snow.

[galwednesday]

Drabble prompt: Steve Rogers deserves All the Fluffy Blankets. (I feel like this is a terrible prompt, and yet, I'm sending it...)

“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted.

Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil. “Sorry.”

Tony covered his eyes with one hand. “I’m getting a migraine.”

“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”

“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”

Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”

“You know what, this is his own fault,” Tony said. “If he didn’t spend all his time pretending he wasn’t cold, we wouldn’t have to bury him in an avalanche of cashmere.”

“You got him cashmere?” Clint said, poking the present wrapped in red and gold with interest. “If he doesn’t want them all, can I have that one?”

“No,” everyone in the room chorused. Clint held his hands up in surrender.

The door opened and Bucky braced himself, but it was Natasha, not Steve, with her own armful of presents wrapped in what looked at first glance like tasteful silver snowflakes over black paper, but which Bucky knew were in fact spiderwebs, because he and Clint had gotten her the paper at a dollar store after Halloween.

“Natasha,” Bucky said desperately. “Please tell me you didn’t get Steve a blanket.”

Natasha paused and shifted the stack of presents behind her back. “I did not get Steve a blanket.”

“Is it a slanket?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“Is it a snuggie?” Clint asked.

Natasha went ominously silent. Bucky just had time to bury his face in his hands before the door opened again.

“Hey, guys,” Steve said cautiously.

“Hi, Steve,” Bucky said, mumbling into his palms.

“What’s going on?”

“We all got you blankets and it’s all your fault,” Tony blurted. A beat later, he added, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Steve replied automatically. “You got me blankets?”

“And variations thereupon,” Bruce said. “Some of them have sleeves. Or straps. Or both, maybe, I’m not entirely clear on how snuggies work.”

“We can take them back,” Bucky said, dropping his hands to scowl at his own feet. “Get you something else.”

“Why would I need something else?” Steve said, sounding baffled. “Are we opening presents now? I want to see them.”

The official Avengers holiday card that year featured the whole team lined up by the Tower fireplace, with a spherical mound of fleece in the middle that was just recognizable as Captain America, thanks to the fact that even seven layers of blankets couldn’t hide that jawline.

[vashti-lives]

unfuckitall replied to your post

Any advice on leash and/or harness training a kitty? A friend of mine is talking about trying to do so with her two kittens.

Unfortunately not really? Theda was so desperate to go outside that she basically didn’t require any training to get used to the harness. Plus at the last place I lived in we were very isolated so I didn’t even need to worry about other people’s dogs or passing cars or anything.

I guess the only advice I have is to make sure your cat knows where the door inside is so if they get spooked and get away from you they’ll be more likely to just run towards the door. Maybe also scope out the likely hiding spots the cats might dash to if they get scared? 

[ashes0909]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let’s get to know the person behind the blog. Tagging a few people randomly! Be Safe out there 💜❤️️💜 Tagged by @thewaythatwerust - you precious you. <3 i. I finally won my long, hard battle with HR! I am finally staying home for two weeks (paid!) in quarantine. This whole process has been maddening and resulted in me shutting down in real life and on chat mediums and social media overall. I feel like I’m finally coming out of the other end of that now. Thankfully. ii. We ran out of milk so I put my espresso shot in chai tea today. And yesterday. It’s not half bad.  iii. I’ve fallen hard into Sim City 2003 version and Sim City 2013 version in the last 2 weeks or so. It’s like my laptop is a time machine.  Tagging the last 7 people in my notifications: @unfuckitall, @mayormurdock, @la-toratempesta, @stillhidden, @onlymorelove, @sheeptopus, @rierasheaven

caveat: If you’re tagged and already have done this/don’t want to, it’s all good. If you’re not tagged but you want to share, put me as your tagger and have at it, it’s all good!

[findingstony]

Hi, friends! We've had a bit of a malfunction here, and one of our posts seems to have gotten either accidentally deleted or eaten by tumblr. Either way...

The ask was looking for Tony planning elaborate promposal, and while Clint knew about those plans, he didn't know who Tony planned to ask. Clint shared some of the details with Steve, who is crushed to find out Tony is asking someone to prom.

Fortunately unfuckitall identified ask 428 as the second story in chapter 64 of "Bits and Pieces" by Wordsplat before it got lost! Thank you!

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139146/chapters/32198325

EDITED: This fic has been deleted by its author.

[sweetfirebird]

So I was thinking earlier today about the Beings-verse fairies, as one does, and thinking about how I'd like to be a fairy. Not because of the fairy gift of truth, nor the beauty, nor the wings (though all of those would be nifty in various ways), but really because I'd like to just live on sugar and have that actually be good for me. I'm rambling, and a bit tipsy, and there's no need to share this nonsense, and yet I'm about to submit it anyway...

To be fair, ancient fairies did not live on sugar. Modern fairies do because sugared products are plentiful, and cheap, and they prefer sweet to other flavors. (And also none of them are rich so cheap food is good). They can, and actually should, eat other foods. They just really, really LIKE sugar. 

But fruit also works. They also love fruit!

And I think, as Flor says, older fairies tend to have slightly less sweet diets and tastes, and even Tulip likes bittersweet chocolate.

But yeah sometimes I do think of that scene in Parks and Rec where Leslie sees that an event has a Candy Bar where she can fill a glass with different candies, and she proceeds to do so and then eat it all with glee... and it just looks really good. 

[sweetfirebird]

unfuckitall replied to your post: ouch

Ouch, indeed. Poor Clematis. I just want to hug him. (And I know Flor feels bad about this later, but… Poor Clematis!)

Flor then proceeds to spend the party worrying about David and Tulip, and also OBSESSIVELY watching everything Clematis does and ignoring how EXTREMELY NOT NORMAL that is. 

[sweetfirebird]

unfuckitall replied to your post: In more, handling the plague and the ongoing...

Cake freezes well! Sometimes you just need to buy the (whole) cake.

That’s true! I could freeze some of it.

(Individual slices are priced badly. Why pay almost half the price of the whole cake for one slice? Shenanigans!) 

[sweetfirebird]

Food bank 2020 charity fic prompt masterpost

Tim as a Greek God, for vashti-lives

The sequel to that, for orbisonblue

Little Wolf and Nathaniel meeting Cal and Ray, for Felixjimmyadamleon

Will and Chester from Holly and Oak at Christmastime (not Yule) for unfuckitall

Something about Charlie’s worrying and Will and Charlie’s wedding, for Sarah Drew on FB

And then, though she donated, she didn’t ask for a prompt, Sarah Olsen on FB mentioned Spark, the old Teen Wolf/beings fusion I did, but she didn’t know I’d done another one, so I showed her this, which is Stiles as a fairy in Wolf’s Paw. 

Thank you guys!!!

[sweetfirebird]

unfuckitall replied to your post I bought the cheapest plants I could (that didn't have to be replanted) for my window box out of spite. It was win-win, because if they thrived, that was my spite going strong, and if they didn't, that was also my spite in action...

Spite is honestly so pure. Pettiness is what keeps humans going a good chunk of the time, and that’s okay with me. Live for spite. Thrive for spite. I know someone who is running for local office now out of spite. Glorious! Love it! Love to see it!

[sweetfirebird]

unfuckitall replied to your post Happy birthday!

Thank you!! <3

[sweetfirebird]

@unfuckitall

This is the doggo. She was fine until a thunder storm started in the distance as we waited for her owner, and then she had to hide in my car.

[sweetfirebird]

Okay guys, @unfuckitall was *awesome* and donated to RAICES but did not need the coupon and is still being super generous, so the first person to ask me for the coupon code right now will get it. :)

[sweetfirebird]

unfuckitall said: I already have a copy of Izzy, but I could use an excuse to donate. Would you be willing to do some sort of giveaway for a coupon code in honor of my donation? No worries if it’s too much hassle! I’ll donate either way, but I’ll only send you proof if you’re on board to pay the coupon code forward.

I have no problem with it, though I guess it would just be first come first serve or something for whoever wants it. <3

[sweetfirebird]

unfuckitall replied to your post: I reread Sweet Clematis again today and I just... What about the AU where Hyacinth or Walter finds a bb!Clematis and raises him? (It’s less awesome, because Callalily isn’t his brother then, but it’s still an awesome AU where Clematis grows up secure and loved…)

Well, Walter and Hyacinth didn’t adopt a kid in canon, and I suppose I just thought of them as super caring but definitely also super busy. Like, they are spearheading the beings rights movement, in Los Cerros but also in most places. So I assumed they would take in lots of stray beings and humans for a while, but I never imagined them raising one. So I suppose I never considered it. 

In THAT timeline, I imagine you would get a much more militant Clematis. Maybe not angry, but definitely more willing to show his brilliance off to insecure humans. (I mean, I love H and W to bits, but they would not be the sort of parent that like, Lis is. They would want to protect him and go to PTA meetings, but they just have like, Things to Do, and the human public school system is a disgrace that must be fought!! etc etc so less of Clematis having the space to be a soft book nerd and more of him learning early about The Man. Which, in itself, sort of hilarious. Though he really isn’t confrontational. So I see him as more of an ice queen there.) 

[sweetfirebird]

unfuckitall replied to your post: Audible is such a shit fucking system for... Some Kind of Magic is Ron Herczig. A Boy and His Dragon is Guy Veryzer. Beginner’s Guide, Little Wolf, and Firebird are all Robert Nieman. A Dandelion for Tulip is Michael Fell. Treasure for Treasure is Dominic Carlos. His Mossy Boy is Christopher Patton.

You guys are treasures, and I love you!