#futurefic

[thewanderingpotato]

All We've Been, All We Could Be

Through the years, through all the highs and lows of life, Shima and Mitsumi remain the closest of friends. But now, seated across from him in a cafe thirty-seven years after graduation, she finds herself wondering if they could be something more.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50723233

[sweetfirebird]

We Could Be Heroes (or Cousins)

Tonight's charity prompt fill is for Raye, who donated to Streets Kitchen Solidarity and asked for a minific about Ian, "anything where he's outdoors with anyone."

Content tags: Ian feels. Spoilers for His Mossy Boy.

All characters here belong to me etc.   

We Could Be Heroes (or Cousins)

Ian had only just arrived home after work when he turned to face north and frowned. Martin would have said something about his “Spider senses,” a reference Ian understood enough to roll his eyes at but not enough to argue over. Though Martin was trying to get him into comics, insisting that if Ian was going to have a secret identity, he should learn the lore.

Although then Martin had stared into the distance for a moment before mumbling something about how he’d end up “fridged.” Which was a reference Ian didn’t get even a little, but when he’d tried dropping it into conversation, Schmitty had grimaced, so Ian resolved to look it up whenever he had the chance when he remembered and Martin wasn’t around.

Martin wasn’t around at the moment, but Ian was currently more interested in the presence in his territory.

Which… all of the land, including the whole Preserve was his territory, in a sense. But Ian was concerned with the land in his name on all legal documents, land that butted up next to the state park, which meant lost or nosy hikers crossed over into it all the time.

This was different, however. Not Martin Dyer passed out beneath his tree different, but remarkable enough to have Ian leaving the house without doing much more than removing his badge and gun and dropping them in the kitchen. Martin would make a face if he found them there later, but hopefully Ian wouldn’t be out long.

He moved toward the disturbance in a straight line, growing as large as he could in his clothes without ruining them, wanting to cover the distance quickly.

The trees were not alarmed. No fleeing deer crossed his path. But the birds were singing and the wind whispered of something. Not in words. Never in words. Hints and teases, excitement without the smug pleasure that had heralded Martin’s arrival into Ian’s world. Not He’s here. Something new.

It’s time.

Ian didn’t hear as wolves did. It wasn’t a heartbeat that made him stop, it was the awareness of how close he was to the state park and then Zarrin’s gentle, husky voice addressing one of the trees.

“My, aren’t you handsome?”

Ian waited until he was his usual size and form to continue forward.

Zarrin Xu stood several yards ahead, one hand resting lightly—not lightly—on a redwood only a few hundred years old. A baby, in redwood terms. Zarrin leaned in, lips moving in a whisper that Ian couldn’t hear but he knew what was said anyway. Mine.

Zarrin wasn’t wrong. He just also wasn’t entirely right. Though the tree didn’t mind, either way.

“There you are,” Zarrin called out as Ian drew closer, as though they didn’t see each other nearly every day, even if only in passing.

“Zarrin,” Ian answered carefully, then realized Zarrin was keeping to that side of the redwood because he was staying on the border of the state park. He must have entered Ian’s territory just a step or two to get Ian’s attention and then returned to that spot to wait.

He’d knocked. Joe must have told him to do that.

Ian crossed his arms. “Bit far from the mansion, aren’t you?”

Zarrin rolled one wrist in a vague gesture. “I like a walk sometimes. Especially now. Is this why you walk so much?”

“Who says I walk?” Ian asked it but knew the answer: Martin. Azar would have kept it to herself, more because that was her habit with things that she thought her parents would dislike. Martin would have spoken of it because he was Martin, open and soft and warm.

Zarrin gave Ian a knowing glance that was surprisingly sharp. “They don’t speak, but I can hear them,” he said instead of bringing Martin into this moment. “Do they speak to you?”

Ian shrugged. “Not in words.”

Zarrin straightened, impossibly tiny next to that redwood and barely reaching Ian’s shoulder. “Are they talking about me? Are they… happy?”

The insecurity in his voice was starkly evident. Ian heaved a sigh and tried looking away, but even if the trees didn’t chide him, Joe or Martin would have. “Happy is not an emotion for trees. But they aren’t unhappy.”

Zarrin blinked his wide eyes at him, looking pleading and youthful until that look suddenly hardened. Zarrin’s chin came up. “I can’t help you care for them if you don’t tell me, Ian Forrester.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Ian responded childishly, but uncrossed his arms. “Is that why you came here?”

“You won’t speak in the coffee shop.” Zarrin paused, then tucked his hands into his coat pockets. “Perhaps understandably, with humans near. And you avoid the mansion. And you don’t invite me here.” Briefly, Zarrin stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “Only Zazzie.”

“Azar needs space away from the mansion,” and her stubborn treasure. Ian pressed on when he could see Zarrin forming an objection. “You don’t need my permission to be here, or an invitation for that matter. I couldn’t stop you.”

“Couldn’t you?” Zarrin said shrewdly. “I wonder.”

Ian’s heart began to pound. He crossed his arms again. “What is that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me you’ve decided I’m a superhero the way Martin has.”

The smooth question was a mistake.

Zarrin perked up to give Ian a sly grin. “Martin might have more reason to think admiringly of you than I do, it’s true.”

Ian sighed loudly with annoyance, as though he couldn’t feel the shiver in the wind.

Zarrin might have felt it too. He studied Ian for a moment, his grin falling, then said, “I looked up more about you, you know. Or, creatures that might be like you. And had our antiques restorer stay out of Alfie’s things so I could go through them.”

The shiver touched Ian’s skin. He never felt the cold, but he did now. “And?” he asked as evenly as he could.

“You are not dragon, Ian Forrester. But you are, like the trees that speak but do not use words, also not not a dragon. Alfie was given an egg, wasn’t he? An egg with a child that he raised. Dìzhèn wanted Everlasting protected and was most thorough about it. And…” Zarrin briefly looked uncomfortable “an egg is often a gift of a great love, not always possible between a dragon and someone other. Even for the powerful.”

Ian let his heart pound and didn’t try to calm it.

“You don’t want to speak of those things,” Zarrin continued after a while, in a mournful voice he had no call to use. “Joe said you might not.”

“Joe knows.” Ian said it flatly. Of course Joe knew. If Zarrin did, Joe did. “Look, we… I was raised not to speak with others.”

“But I’m not others.” Zarrin was still mournful. “I’m… perhaps a cousin, and we’re supposed to work together.”

“I know,” Ian spoke through gritted teeth, then forced a breath in and out. “I know that,” he said, marginally calmer. “I just… am not used to it. But, like I said, I can’t stop you.”

Zarrin leaned toward Ian as though Ian was a redwood who needed whispering to. “Dragonfire did not slow you much, Ian Forrester. There is enough of us in your blood to make you a threat. It’s no wonder the rest of the family chose to pretend Alfie had only been a secretary. They couldn’t ignore his presence entirely, not with this, not with her still so strong, but they could do their best to cloud the truth. Your magic,” he gentled his voice when Ian tensed again, “hid you even from Bernard’s senses. Could I stop you? Perhaps, now that all this has responded to me. But am I meant to? I don’t think so. And would I want to?” Hurt entered Zarrin’s liquid eyes. “No. I thought us friends, and if not friends, cousins.”

“Cousins?” Ian’s brain finally caught up with that word, bringing him back a step. “I don’t have… I’ve never…”

“I’ve met injured wolves less skittish than you,” Zarrin observed, no pleasure in the statement.

“It’s not your job to take care of me,” Ian insisted, feeling his chest tighten like how Martin described a panic attack. That… that wasn’t good. It couldn’t be.

“Oh, Ian.” Zarrin shook his head. “I don’t know how to do this, either. It’s scary, isn’t it? Bernard says… well he would say many things, but he’s just as scared as we are right now. You don’t… you don’t look well.” His hands emerged from the pockets, grasping the air nervously. “Can I come in? Please? I can take you home or call Martin for you.”

Ian was distantly embarrassed by the longing to hear Martin’s voice that went through him when Zarrin said the name. He could hardly say he didn’t need help now. Zarrin, with whatever it was dragons felt, knew he wanted Martin.

“Martin is allowed here,” Ian said finally, breathing hard. “They welcomed him here.”

Zarrin nodded to accept that. “And me?”

The ground would rise up to meet him if it could. Zarrin might know that. Or might not understand what the feeling was. He was new to this and had no one to teach him anything.

A neat trick they’d pulled, Dìzhèn and Alfie.

Ian put his head down and thought of Martin and his comics and his excited talk of crossover events and unexpected team-ups. He thought Marie, the injured wolf Zarrin had found, and her books.

He wasn’t a superhero, but he could read more than just the creaking of tree branches and the sighs of the wind.

“They want you here,” Ian admitted. But that wasn’t really what Zarrin was asking. “I… don’t want you here,” he answered honestly and hated that Zarrin flinched. “But I could. Maybe. I just…” Did superheroes feel fear? He thought Martin would say they did. “It won’t be easy for me.”

Ian took another breath, closing his eyes to listen for another moment before opening them again to meet Zarrin’s intent stare. “Martin will be home soon. He’s making soup, if you’d like some.”

Zarrin practically wriggled with excitement as he stepped over a line only the two of them could feel.

[amysnotdeadyet]

Oh hey I posted a fic! And then forgot to post it here, lol.

Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, futurefic AU, Rockstar Eddie/long-lost buddy Steve reunion, mostly fluff and porn. You know, like I do.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Hello, Sunshine, 1982

It has been a rough couple of years.

Abe passed in 1980, and Shirley got sick and passed away quickly later the same year. In 1981, Noah died under what Midge thinks are strange circumstances, but his employers and Astrid insist it was a simple car accident.

Either way, losing three beloved family members in just a couple of years is a lot to deal with.

When Ethan gets to his feet during Yom Kippur Break Fast and announces he’s asked Julia to marry him, and she’s said yes, Midge feels warmth spread in her chest and she finds herself squeezing Lenny’s hand under the table.

“My baby is getting married,” she beams before getting to her feet and hugging her son tightly. She turns to Julia and hugs her too. “I knew when I saw you with no pants on that first time you’d fit right in.”

Ethan chuckles. “Ma.”

“That’s so weird,” Julia tells her tearfully. “But so sweet. Thank you, Midge.”

Midge takes a breath as she pulls away and squeezes the younger woman’s shoulders. “We need to plan an engagement party!” She whirls around to look at Mei. “You in?”

“Hell, yes,” Mei grins. “I’ll set up the location. There are some really nice restaurants in Chinatown.”

“Aren’t you two getting ahead of yourselves?” Joel asks.

“To Ethan and Julia!” Moishe chimes in, lifting his glass. “May their life together be sweet.”

“And may his dick not wander like his father’s,” Susie adds.

“There it is,” Joel grumbles.

*****

Ethan’s mothers make good on the engagement party. It’s extravagant, held at one of the beautiful, usually off-the-table restaurants in Chinatown. It had taken a lot of planning, but leave it to the two most capable women in his life.

He’s also deeply aware that while Susie didn’t help plan it, she’d certainly helped pay for it. He knows that it was not at all cheap to pull this off. Not only is Ethan’s family and circle of friends relatively large, but Julia’s family is an army, with her parents, three brothers, seven aunts and uncles and fourteen cousins.

Ethan sighs softly as he looks out at the crowd, wrapping his arm around Julia and kissing her cheek before getting to his feet.

“You know, usually my Ma is the one who gives the speech, but she has a reputation for telling the worst story she can possibly think of  when she does, so I’m taking the reigns.”

Everyone chuckles and Midge shrugs sheepishly from her seat next to Lenny.

“I am a lucky guy,” Ethan says. “Have been for as long as I can remember. Two powerhouse moms who have done nothing but support me. Two dads who are very good at teaching me about life. Siblings who support me no matter. Doting grandparents and aunts and uncles. And Susie, who is, in fact, the best friend a five-year-old child of divorce could have asked for.” 

Everyone chuckles at that and Susie rolls her eyes, but she looks misty-eyed as well.

“And now I’m even luckier,” Ethan goes on. “Because not only do I get Julia out of this whole marriage thing, but I get her incredibly large, loving family in the deal as well, and that’s a big get. And I could probably go on for another hour about how incredible and loving and sweet and smart and beautiful Julia is. I should probably save some material for the actual wedding. Instead, I’ll just thank all of you for coming to celebrate. Thank Ma and Mei and Susie for this great party, and say cheers.”

Everyone repeats the cheers, and drink and cheer and Ethan leans over to kiss Julia happily.

[beforewecame]

future fic where they Are retired but now they’ve found their way back together for some reason and 50% of this was gabby’s idea in a DM from like last summer but . god. brods has a kid and an ex-wife and maybe he coaches in the SHL on and off and matt just bought a ticket to sweden on a whim and now. well. here they are

[bootyshortsjacob]

Soooooooo, this started out a joke between me and my friends about some country singer type short story. But now I’m invested... I think I’ll finish off a couple chapters before I post it though 😁

[garbagef4iry]

a little self promo

[fineprintedsunsets]

Follow The Rules

A few rules before you begin, 

Never drink the water, The blue glow has been found enticing to travelers but must never be trusted. 

Keep track of time. Time works differently here, it tends to blend together in a pool of nothingness. 

Map your surroundings. It is easy to get lost in this strange world. You will have fun, until buildings start to shift and hallways have no end. 

Have fun, and remember. Follow The Rules. 

Safe Travels!

The loudspeaker was seemingly coming from nowhere, the soft enticing voice was comparable to a child's lullaby. I hadn’t known how I got here, everything seemed so surreal..? I’d been here before? Haden’t I? 

When I was 7? 8? The room around me was filled with pristine white tile, pools filled with eerie blue water slushed against each other. There was no echo when I walked, no sound to be heard in this seemingly endless pool. Something told me to enter one of the pristine bodies of water. 

Some voice inside of my head, followed by the same drip..drip…drip. The voice crept in somehow, It was not there when I first arrived. It was almost as if someone implanted a strange being in my head, making my mind trick me into believing it was part of me. 

Go on in. The waters are nice! Relax! Unwind! 

The unfamiliar voice spoke, but even as I tried to reject it, It kept pushing me to the edge of those white tiles and into the bottomless pit of blue water. 

Jump. It said. 

Relax. It said. 

I didn’t jump, I didn’t relax. My bare feet gripped the edge of the tile, I was being pushed. My face moving closer to the swirling water. Before I turned to see who had touched my body the only trace left was a pit of black shadow.

[aristocratic-otter]

Chapter 4 is live!

Chapter 4: Boy or Girl...or Both?

July 2018—Simon

I can’t stop staring.

Simon, my husband, is sitting cross-legged on the floor across where I’m curled up on the sofa. His left arm loosely cradles sleeping babies. Two of them, with tiny spade tipped tails and miniature wings.

In his right hand is the only alert child. It’s small enough to be nearly entirely enfolded by his large hand, and it’s voraciously suckling at his thumb.

Our children. Simon’s and mine.

Read on AO3

[haikyuu-library]

by this time next year by reeology

Completed | T | 29.0k

"I got offers from two universities," Kageyama announces, pointing at his chest with his thumb. "I'm going to play volleyball at Keio this spring."

"You still have to pass an exam, even if it's an easy one," Takeda-sensei hurries to add, although he is beaming and bursting with pride at his fluffy little crow chick taking off to play volleyball at a university level.

"I'll pass," Kageyama says with the same kind of confidence he uses when he tells Hinata he'll get the toss to him. He looks straight at Hinata, and Hinata jerks and turns red, wondering if maybe Kageyama knew he was daydreaming about something as stupid as the way Kageyama talks to him during a game. But then Kageyama just points at him and says, "You'd better get in, too."

Hinata, stupid, naive, idiot that he is, grins wide and nods and says, "Yeah!"

He doesn't know what he's in for.

[sweetfirebird]

A Christmas Gift for the Silver Fox

SHW Drew on Patreon gave EXTREMELY generously to a food and housing org and for a prompt said, "in case you have a snippet about "Charlie & Will ten years on" floating around that you're longing for an excuse to write about...."

Sidenote but it is really weird to consider that Will and Charlie ten years on is… more or less now.

Content tags: Covid mention, background family stress. The lightest of BDSM mentions. References to both the book Play It Again, Charlie and some of the commentfic that is floating around the internets somewhere. Passing body image and aging issues. Financial issues. Some alcohol.

This is it for the charity prompt fills this year. Thank you to everyone for being so generous and awesome. <3

A Christmas Gift for the Silver Fox

Will shoved yet another roll of wrapping paper to the side and peered underneath it for a list he was nearly almost hundred percent certain that he’d actually made and used today while shopping and now needed to consult and possibly revise.

“How many bows did you think you’d use?” he asked himself irritably under his breath, setting aside a bag of those he’d bought today. He’d add to the bin of them that he’d gotten years ago in an attempt to make gift wrapping easier. He was going to be like all the homemaking influencers and have a wrapping station, or so he’d thought at the time. He didn’t have a station. He had the temporary use of the kitchen table and space in one of the closets. And there was no point in setting aside wrapping supplies to save time and money if every year he saw some new cute wrapping paper patterns and brought them home.

A tape dispenser clattered to the floor, startling Natalie Wood, who skittered away from Will’s feet and went back to circling the food bowls.

“Sorry, Natty.” Will meant it, but he muttered that too, bending over to snatch up the tape and then resuming his exhausted search for the Christmas list. Beside the rolls of paper and the bin of bows and ribbon were some of the gifts for various Howard cousins and niblings and siblings and siblings-in-law that he’d purchased today. He needed to make sure he had what he wanted to get, and then see what else was still left, and he wanted to do it while shopping was fresh in his mind.

Then he had to wrap them all, tonight, if he could. It would make the following weeks slightly easier. Tomorrow, he’d agreed—months ago, without thinking—to pick up Alicia and take her to the city for some comics event at a shop, which meant getting up early and lots of waiting in line… and probably seeing something she liked and getting it for her for Christmas as sneakily as he could.

If it was expensive, he’d have to use the joint card, which he frowned thinking about. All his life, he’d thought he would enjoy being like Lorelei Lee and spending someone else’s money but it turned out that when it was a reminder of his failures, he didn’t care for it.

Not failures, he immediately repeated in his head, glancing guiltily across the kitchen. It wasn’t failure to finally settle down and get a chair in an actual salon, only to end up having to go back to traveling to work for private clients because of Covid. He wasn’t the only one it had fucked over and it had nothing to do with him succeeding or failing and he was lucky, very lucky, to be okay, both health-wise and financially. He knew that, like he knew that Charlie didn’t mind Will spending his money.

Charlie would, in fact, get cranky if Will called it that and not their money. And would not like Will calling himself a failure either, for having to rebuild his savings and his career this late in the game.

Charlie would be harder on himself than he would ever be on Will, and that included spankings. Then he’d say something about how he worried less about Will knowing that their finances were linked, or say that’s what he thought marriage meant, sharing highs and lows, and if his family had money, and Will was his family, then shouldn’t Will use it?

But Will couldn’t think about that now or he’d lose focus. He was going to complete the list, handle everything like he’d said he would, and then he wouldn’t feel weird about it and everyone would have a nice Christmas. So that. He had to summon the energy and just do it. Wrap presents. Finish the list, if he could. Get ready for bed. Get up to taxi Alicia around and listen to her talk about girls and boys with wonder and a little envy he hadn’t realized he’d ever have toward young people, but there it was anyway. Bring her back here to wait for her mom to pick her up. Get ready for a holiday party which Charlie was iffy on attending for various reasons, but if they didn’t go to that, then probably spend the evening on the phone or online dealing with the rest of the shopping, or wrapping anything he failed to wrap tonight.

Meanwhile, the tree in their living room had lights on it but no decorations, there were several school recitals and one dance performance they were supposed to go see in the next few days, as well as a few more parties—including the one for Charlie’s work which was officially-unofficially mandatory, and Will needed to do a few hair consults before a late December wedding.

Not that long ago, Will’s Decembers had mostly been a small bit of Christmas shopping, first just for his sister and few friends, then for Charlie too. Then Charlie’s sisters, then everyone, even though Charlie kept insisting they could do joint gifts or that he could handle it. Of course Charlie could handle it; he’d been handling it for years before he ever met Will—and frankly for most of the years afterward. That was the point. Will was going to help him, the big, charming dope. If Charlie could insist that marriage meant sharing everything, then it meant sharing everything… even if Will was so tired.

His one Christmas tradition, born out of retail jobs with long December hours and having no family but his sister, was to find whatever channel was playing his favorite Christmas black-and-white classics, and watch them while enjoying a glass or two of champs.

Now, of course, too much champagne was out of the question because of his acid reflux and he had no time to watch anything.

He sighed for the memory of peace and quiet and Barbara Stanwyck, and also his twenties and the ability to eat and drink whatever he wanted, then dropped his head down onto his hands on the table to glare at the reindeer on the roll of wrapping paper closest to him.

In the kitchen, connected to the dining room of the larger apartment they’d happened to have moved into right before lockdown, Charlie was loading the dishwasher, pausing to handwash a few things as well and to check the time on whatever was in the oven.

Charlie had worked all day and probably fielded calls from his family and still had emails to answer or papers to grade, but he’d made dinner anyway. It was for the best; Will couldn’t cook even if he tried. And he’d been busy anyway, out shopping for the family.

Their family, Charlie would say. Like their money. And that Will shouldn’t still think he needed to be perfect and do everything for them—the big hypocrite—and how honestly, he’d been going to get the teens gift cards and Will should do the same.

He was probably right. That’s what teenage Will would have wanted from older relatives instead of bath sets or Christmas socks.

Actually, a nice bath set would be good, for him and for Charlie. He should write that down.

Where the fuck was that list anyway? He had a whole Charlie??? section that needed to be added to. He’d snuck a peek at Charlie’s To Be Read list for some book titles, and considered some fancy cookware that Charlie would probably just buy for himself if Will didn’t. Maybe Will should get Charlie a gift card too, or do one of those TikTok-esque shopping sprees in a Barnes & Noble.

Which would still be spending Charlie’s money, really. Their money, but really Charlie’s. Will was still saving up what he’d lost in the past few years, so using his own would mean Charlie wouldn’t be able to get many books—shockingly expensive things, history books.

Charlie wouldn’t care if Will spent his—their money—or spent his own and got him a cheap bath set, that was the worst part. He was always stupidly surprised to get any meaningful presents, so the amount wouldn’t matter. But Will cared. He wanted to get Charlie something he valued in with all the other stuff.

Nat returned to circle his feet, her soft meows mixed with the quiet thumping that meant Hulking had joined her. Hulking, adopted in Sam’s memory, was a stray who’d had a leg amputated and only entered the kitchen and dining area with its smoother, harder for him to navigate, floors when he was starving. Or cat-starving, anyway.

Alicia had named him. Will got up to feed them and then washed wet food off his hands before dragging himself back over the table to continue his work. He heard the momentary silence that meant Charlie had stopped, probably to watch Will go by, and belatedly looked over once he was no longer on his feet.

“God damn it, Charlie,” Will exclaimed softly without meaning to.

His nearly fifty-year-old hot piece of a husband was in sweatpants, socks, and a soft sleep shirt with the sleeves rolled up to keep them out of the dishwater. He was wearing an apron, the one that said “Silver Fox” which Will had gotten him two birthdays ago, because he was. He had more silver in his hair than dark brown, which was bad enough, but he was actually fitter than he had been because once he’d finally gotten his hip surgery, he’d been ordered to work out to help keep his balance and his strength up and he took that seriously.

He took everything seriously. 

He was currently handwashing Will’s reusable water bottle, the one with the sticker of the French poster for Bringing Up Baby on it—L’impossible Monsieur Bébé—because he was obsessed with keeping bacteria out of it and because tomorrow morning when Will was running around, he was going to want that bottle with him. It was just like Charlie to do this to Will when Will was tired, grumpy, and frustrated.

Charlie looked over, then opened his mouth.

“Don’t.” Will cut him off before he could ask if Will had eaten.

Charlie didn’t look hurt, not exactly, but did take a second before he turned around again, because he was. And now Will was a dick… who yes, had not eaten.

“You should have let me make dinner,” he said anyway. “Or I could have brought some home.” Though even McDonalds would have strained Will’s budget these days, and probably also make him sick. Anyway, Charlie would have thought it wasn’t healthy, which it wasn’t, and made Will take vitamins or something.

Which should have made Will feel like a child but he of course was trained in the ways of Charlie and loved it.

Charlie left the water bottle to dry on a towel by the sink and then said in a mild voice, “I’m going to make some tea. Would you like some?”

There was a lot of hidden worry beneath that careful offer. Will gave up looking for the list in his mess of presents and paper and slumped down in his seat to watch Charlie be competent. “Why do you like me so much?” he wondered quietly, not whining but close.

They both startled at the same time as the words sank in. “No, nope,” Will denied it all immediately. “Never mind. That was exhaustion talking. Don’t worry about it.”

Charlie put down the kettle he’d only just filled. He walked over to the fridge, reached on top of it for a red tin that Will didn’t remember seeing before, then brought it over to the table. He sat down with a loud, old-man noise of relief to be off his feet, then popped the lid on the tin and held it out for Will to look inside.

“Fudge?” Will guessed excitedly, already taking a piece.

Charlie nodded. “And chocolate rum balls. Teddy, the new office guy, apparently de-stresses with baking and confectionary, and goes overboard for Christmas. As people tend to do.”

He gave Will a look. Will gave him a look back.

“That remark feels pointed,” Will finally said, only a little bit snippy because fudge. “I have to get gifts for your family.”

“Which I told you, you didn’t have to do.” Charlie was noticeably not eating any of the candy.  

Will took a rum ball and handed it to Charlie before taking one for himself. “I want them to be happy. I want you to be happy…. Fuck. These are incredibly good. Do we need to get him something in return?”

Charlie hummed a little around a sinful bite of chocolate and rum. “A bottle of wine should do it. I’ll take something from the house if I have no time to go to the store. All that red you can’t drink anymore just sitting there.”

“Stupid aging,” Will sighed it. “Stupid acid reflux. Years of champagne and terrible meals catching up with me.”

“Pretty sure some of it is also genetic.” Charlie shook the tin to urge Will to take more. “You didn’t eat this afternoon.” He was not guessing. “Just seasonal lattes and whatever you had for lunch?”

“The seasonal latte was my lunch,” Will grumbled. “Skim milk even. We can’t all age like you.”

Charlie put the tin to the side and folded his hands in front of him. The Silver Fox on his apron taunting Will. “What can I do to help you?”

“Charlie,” Will whined at him, his irritation forgotten, “you have enough to do.”

“I’d rather see you enjoying yourself.” Charlie accepted the whining but did arch an eyebrow. “You usually do, this time of year.” There was a hint of a question there.

Will floundered a little. “I’m just… going through some stuff, and it’s the worst time of year to do that. Taking stock before Christmas is dumb. It’s nothing. I’ll get over it.”

Charlie took a rum ball all on his own, so Will went for more fudge. “You know,” Charlie began slowly, after savoring his chocolate, “you don’t have to get me anything.” He ignored Will’s gasp of outrage that Will made very dramatic even though he had just had this thought about Charlie moments before. “Truly.” He looked Will in the eye with a serious, dark stare that would have made lesser men whimper. “I’m happy as I am.”  

“You’re dreadful,” Will returned immediately, but didn’t give Charlie a chance to be hurt. “Just absolutely… I ought to make you something handmade, and heartfelt, and ugly, and force you to display it in the house…. Except you would.” He really would. He did it for his sisters and niblings all the time. Will sighed, perhaps also dramatically. “I’m just tired. And hungry—shush, you—and poor—and I know what you’re going to say and shush for that too. Then you go and wash my water bottle for me. I want to do something like that for you.” Will gestured at the air, then reached for more chocolate. “But also bigger and grander because you should have that. You can deny it all you like, but you supported me for two years. Maybe it’s natural for you but I still want to just… fuck, make things easier for you, at minimum. Then get you something really nice.”

A gorgeous frown of confusion came and went on Charlie’s face. “What would you like to do for me?” He was almost tentative, which he really shouldn’t be.

“If I knew that, I’d do it,” Will answered, huffy. He leaned forward a second later. “You know what? I’d like to let you rest. To not have you picking up after me and taking care of me—” the alarm on Charlie’s face was touching— “just for the one day,” Will assured him. “A few hours, even. To not be a mess or stressed, and… all that. But it’s December so… the month of stress.”

Charlie took another rum ball. This conversation had puzzled him or he wouldn’t be reaching for the booze in candy form. He ate it silently, frowning into space at first and then at the reindeer-pattern wrapping paper before looking up again.

“Wrinkles,” Will gently reminded him out of habit.

Charlie gave a nod, not of agreement. More decisive. “What are you doing tonight? Wrapping?” He waved over the table.  

“I have to if I want this all out of the way before the last things arrive… and still have some to ship off, and tomorrow I’m out most of the day and…” Will groaned.

“Or.” Charlie stopped Will’s moaning with a word. “Or… we make Alicia help tomorrow. Wrapping presents for the family is a grownup activity. It will make her feel more adult but also, having big Christmases like this takes work and everyone needs to learn how to contribute sooner or later. And then you give me your list, and we just do gift cards for the teens like I suggested… and maybe a few of the adults. And they can be understanding—they will be understanding,” Charlie added, in that voice that said he meant it and the family would listen. “And how about… tonight, we eat dinner and then do nothing?”

Shocking. Scandalous. Outrageous.

Will sat straight up. “I will probably fall asleep if I do that.” But he wanted.

The softest smile of relief crossed Charlie’s face. “That’s all right with me. You know that.”

“A night on the couch with the half-done Christmas tree and maybe a movie before we’re snoring?” Will was so middle-aged adjacent because that sounded amazing.

“Could you give me that, Will? As your present?” Charlie was so delicate and fine. “You haven’t watched your December movies yet either.”

Of course he’d noticed.

“Charlie.” It was probably the lack of food or the chocolate and sugar but if Will had known what he was in for, he would have dropped that flowerpot to get Charlie’s attention sooner. “It took me years to find these movies on DVD and now once I own them, they’re streaming everywhere? So rude,” he complained instead of saying any of that. “Bell, Book, and Candle could be considered a Christmas movie and I’ve been debating adding it to my usual watch. It begins and ends with Christmas anyway.” He had rambled about that for years now and Charlie had definitely heard it before and was probably very bored. But he regarded Will with that soft look lingering in his eyes. “You know this isn’t going to count, right?” Will surrendered. Will always surrendered to Charlie and was happy to do it. “I still want you to have nice things to open the morning of.”

The oven timer beeped. Charlie sighed and pushed himself up, leaving Will unattended with the chocolate because of course Charlie wouldn’t mind if Will had a million love handles as long as Will was okay and content.

Dreadful, for him to be like that. Will would do whatever he wanted, but all he wanted was this. A quiet night with Will.

Tired or not, Will leapt out his chair, startling poor Hulking as he rushed over to grab Charlie and hold him tight.

The oven beeped again.

“Fuck off,” Will said into the Silver Fox.  

Charlie exhaled the smallest laugh and gently disengaged from Will’s hold to go to the oven and take out whatever he’d put in there—sweet potatoes and chicken or something—and then, after taking his oven mitts off, came right back to Will.

That was much nicer. A much better end to the day than Will had been anticipating. Except maybe it could get a tiny bit nicer. He peeked up. “Need me to do anything else, Charlie, sir?”

“Ah.” Charlie sighed it—very pleased, Will could tell, because he used the voice when he spoke next. “Get out plates and silverware and whatever you want to drink with dinner. Make enough room on the table for that, but you don’t need to clean off the whole thing. Eat real food, and then you have as many rum balls as you like… that won’t affect you tomorrow morning.” Will didn’t think he could get drunk off candy but nodded anyway because he enjoyed being good for Charlie when he wasn’t being bad for Charlie. Charlie wiped something, probably chocolate, from Will’s mouth. “I bought more Tums today when I went to pick up my prescription, including a small travel-sized one for your workbag, since December is the month of tempting foods.”

Will considered that he ought to complain, again, and wonder how he was ever going to show love the way Charlie did, but did his best anyway. “Is that all, sir?”

Charlie hummed thoughtfully, petting Will’s mouth now, with no agenda except that he liked to do it. “There is something you’re supposed to say when you feel like this, isn’t there.”

He was not asking.

“Oh.” Will was vaguely embarrassed to have forgotten, but he was tired and hungry, and had stressed himself out for weeks now. He inched up, silently asking for a kiss but also to let Charlie gaze at him in that serious Charlie way while Will said what he should have said from the start. “Charlie loves me, and that’s all that matters.”

[sylphidine]

Hmmmm. If each one of those stars has a world around it, how different would you and I be? Is there a world where you’re a tasque and I’m a maus? Is there a world where we’re two pirate captains on one ship? Is there a world where I’m a prince like Ralsei and you’re the rose I keep under glass? Is there a world where you’re the butler and I’m the salesman? Is there..

from [[ATTIC]][[NEST]][[HOME]], Chapter 5, “Stars”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35496103

[wonderlandleighleigh]

the Emmys last night got me to think (and I bet this isn't even an original thought), but it would be so funny if in the fictional future of TMMM (where Lenny obviously doesn't die) ASP actually adapted Midge and Lenny's lives, making the show based on that (a.k.a Midge's memoirs and stuff) and M/L making appearances at the Emmys for it. I just love good meta.

"Lenny Bruce here on the Emmys red carpet, how are you, Lenny?"

"Hello, Lavern, you're looking stunning tonight, as always."

Lavern Cox shakes her head, amused. "Always a charmer."

"Well, I am ninety-seven, so I have make up for all the wrinkles somehow."

"Where is Midge?" Lavern asks.

"She's around here somewhere," Lenny laughs. "I think she stopped to have a very long chat with Reese Witherspoon."

"Oh, good for her. So, Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, nominated again in it's fourth season."

"Well, the team on the show is really something else," Lenny tells her. "Everyone brings their a-game every day. I feel very privileged to be apart of this, though this is certainly Amy's brainchild born out of Midge's stories."

"Are we ever going to see a Lenny-centered show?" Lavern asks.

"If that happens, I hope I'm dead first," Lenny laughs. "As comfortable as my beautiful wife is having all of her mistakes filmed by actors, my mistakes have been a little more...shall we say...deadly. Amy's vision really works for Midge's story. Mine is more suited to a David Lynchian nightmare."

Lavern laughs. "Big questions after that cliffhanger of an ending on season 4. What's going on with Midge and Lenny in season 5?"

Lenny considers for a moment. "You're going to see a little more of him. You're going to see a little more humanity. I mean, since this is inspired by real events, you sort of know where Midge and Lenny are heading, but there are a few winding roads to get to that ending."

"Did I hear me name?" Midge asks as she steps up to stand next to Lenny.

"There she is!" Lavern smiles. "Midge, you look beautiful."

"Why thank you, Lavern, you look incredible," she beams. "This one wasn't giving away spoilers, was he? He's terrible."

"Just a hint," Lavern promises. "How do you feel about the show coming to a close?"

"You know, I'm sad that it won't be a thing I get to do anymore," Midge admits. "But I am so happy to have had this experience. It has been such a joy to work on this."

"Lenny says we're getting more Lenny in season five," Lavern grins.

"Snitch," Lenny accuses.

Midge nudges him. "You are so bad, stop giving things away!"

Lenny gets distracted, looking out at the crowd. "I gotta go catch Zendaya before she gets swarmed by more people, I wanna tell her how good Euphoria is!"

Midge and Lavern laugh as Lenny rushes off as best he can.

"And he's off again," Midge shakes her head. "I should have brought a leash. I swear, you'd think at ninety-seven he'd slow down, but I cannot keep track of that man."

Lavern laughs again. "Thank you both for chatting with me today. I will see you inside."

[augustjustice]

Second in Line

AO3 Link

Blake Harrington’s heart hammers in his chest as he stares up at the peeling door of number 402, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he reaches up and gives a firm rap with his knuckles. It had just begun snowing before he managed to duck inside the shabby apartment building, dampness clinging to the shiny leather of his loafers and his perfectly pressed khaki pants now wrinkled from the train ride.

His mother would cluck her tongue if she could see him. Though, he guesses she’d probably have a lot more than that to say if she actually knew where he was. 

He hears shuffling inside, the muffled sound of a deep voice calling out Yeah, yeah, coming! 

When the door swings open a moment later, Blake barely manages not to gape.

The man standing before him has wild, curly hair that falls down to his shoulders and a thin silver hoop through his bottom lip. Inky black tattoos litter his arms, with even more peeking out from the neckline of his black t-shirt. The words Corroded Coffin are splashed across the front in a spiky graphic font. 

If this is his brother, there’s little doubt in Blake’s mind now why his parents never mention him. 

When the man blinks down at him with big brown eyes, though, they don’t quite match his mother’s. Even so Blake can’t help but wonder if this really might be…

“Steve?”

Maybe-Steve’s eyebrows shoot up at that, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Planting his hands on his knees, he stoops slightly, so that he and Blake are more at eye level. 

“Who’s asking, big guy?”

Blake extends his hand for a shake, mustering as much maturity as a thirteen year old can manage, the gesture business-like just like his father taught him. 

“Blake Harrington, sir.”

The man’s already large eyes go wide as saucers at that, jerking slightly like he’s been shocked.

“Uh, Stevie?” Gaze still on Blake, not-Steve tilts his face slightly to call back over his shoulder into the apartment. “You got a visitor.”

Part 2

[mamawasatesttube]

outsourcing my decisionmaking again. as sotm winds to a close, what smaller lil oneshot type thing should i focus on next?

[haikyuu-library]

frilly pink apron by citronnes

Completed | T | 2.9k

kuroo loves to be embarrassing. there's literally no other reason why he'd walk onto stream wearing nothing but a fucking frilly pink apron and sweats where you can see all of his goddamn upper body.