#update wednesday

[inkandpaperqwerty]

“You sold your soul… for some chicken nuggets?” Xal kept his head down. “It was lamb.” “You sold your so—” “I was really hungry.” Xal held out one hand, trying to physically push the discussion away, his right palm pressing his eye to the point he saw stars. “It was stupid. It was dumb. I know that. You don’t have to—” Sam’s voice cut in, much calmer and kinder than Dean’s. “How old were you?” “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Xal looked at the younger brother with something like desperation in his eyes. “It was an idiotic thing to do no matter what, so—” “How old were you?” Sam repeated simply, no additional insistence in his voice. Xal hooked his thumbs in his pockets and looked up at the ceiling, groaning theatrically to hide the insecurities and memories coursing through him. “I was eight. Okay? I was eight, I was stupid, I was hungry and poor and never tasted lamb before, and did I mention I was stupid?” He started speaking faster, face turned to the floor and redder by the second, caught in a downhill tumble of wanting to keep his mouth shut because he was embarrassed and wanting to explain the context in detail because he was embarrassed. “I didn’t even know what a soul was. I didn’t understand life and death and—and all I knew about supernatural entities was that every other week, we would light stuff on fire that made us really high, only I didn’t know what high was back then, I just knew it felt good, and we would dance around, and it was supposed to give us protection and connect our souls to the heavens because the smoke went up, and you wanted your soul to go up because that’s where the heavens were, and if you didn’t go up with the smoke you got dragged down into the waters, and nobody wanted to go down there, but I didn’t know there was actually something down there, it was just like being afraid of the dark, and there was no concept of—” “Hey, hey, hey.” Sam took Xal by the shoulders and lowered his voice. “Deep breath.” Want is a Wasting Disease, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Just Dropped And Here's the Amazing Artist And Here is Xal's Playlist

[jasontoddsmoodstabilizers]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Jason and Bruce were having a pretty typical time busting Gotham's most recent kidnapping ring when they were suddenly caught up in time travelling magic. Bruce is overjoyed, knowing that he can use all of his current knowledge to be a better father than ever and finally emotionally provide for his children. Jason just wants to survive Bruce's obvious anger and resentment. If Bruce could reset the timeline, he'd definitely use it to brainwash and prevent Jason from becoming his violent, reckless self, right? - When Bruce and Jason are sent back ten years into the past in the process of busting a magical regret-themed cult, Jason's dead set on finally escaping Bruce's disappointment. Bruce does not get the memo.

[raspberryrib]

Healing In Your Pheromones

Ch 5 | Take Aim, Break Me Apart, Love

‘Breathlessly, I move from him, bowing my head towards the door, “Night, Eren.”

“Good night, Mikasa.” His eyes are full with emotion as I close his door on my way out.

Exactly how many times today was I on the verge of submitting… of permitting Eren to mark me—mate me?

Cursing without merit, I had truly lost count. All I know for certain is that the indicated touches were depriving me insane and I doubted they would suffice for much longer.’

[keeptheotherone]

Update Wednesday #3

From The One Where Mary Gets Involved, chapter 9 (unpublished):

Mary saw the shadow of an arm in the doorway, then the lights flicked on and everyone yelled, “Surprise!”

Molly jumped, then laughed. She turned to Sherlock, who stood watching her with one of his rare, genuine smiles.

“Happy birthday, Molly Hooper.”

Their eyes caught, and Mary saw the now-familiar frisson of chemistry pass between them, but before either could act on it, Molly was swept into the room by those closest to the door and her attention diverted.

Mary pulled up the playlist she’d created for tonight and hit play, sending Little Richard’s voice blaring “Good Golly, Miss Molly” into the room.

[3hsupportsproject-blog]

S-Support anybody!

Good news! We've unlocked the ability for Byleth to S support all playable characters in the cast, regardless of gender.

[inkandpaperqwerty]

So, I posted this last night (technically this morning, but we're gonna pretend I got this posted on time).

But I have smoothed out the summary (just a bit, as it was almost perfect the way it was) and then shouted out Beth_Mac for leaving kudos on a really good story that was wrapped in the worst packaging known to man.

AO3 // fanfiction.net

[keeptheotherone]

Update Wednesday #5

From The One Where Mary Gets Involved, chapter seven (unpublished):

Mary stood in front of her open wardrobe with a bath towel wrapped round her body and a hand towel scrubbing her short blonde hair. “What do you think, the jade dress or dark jeans and a jacket?”

John kept his movements casual, coming up behind her to drop a kiss on her nape. “How about—” he gave the larger towel a strategic yank—“neither?”

“John!” 

It was a token protest, smothered in laughter as she turned in his arms, gloriously nude, her own arms circling his neck. He slid both hands down warm, still-damp skin to cup her bottom, snugging her against him before lowering both his face and his voice. “Hello, wife.” 

Her breath warmed his lips, the edges of her mouth lifted in the beginnings of a smile, and he closed the distance between them. They got a little lost in the kiss, basking in the privacy without Josie, secure in the knowledge they wouldn’t be interrupted … at least for the moment. When Mary finally broke away they were both flushed and breathless.

[keeptheotherone]

Update Wednesday #2

From The One Where Mary Gets Involved, Chapter Four (unpublished):

“She’s dating again,” Mary offered. If she knew her sweet-but-nosy little old ladies, Mrs. Hudson would ply Molly with questions about her date, questions Molly might refuse to answer coming from Mary but would never be so rude as to refuse Mrs. Hudson. Not to mention with someone interrogating Molly, Mary could focus her efforts elsewhere.

“Really?” Mrs. Hudson’s eyes lit up. “Isn’t that nice. I do hope she finds someone better than Tom. Nice boy but a bit of a dullard, that one.”

“Mmm,” Mary agreed. “That roast really does smell delicious—want me to run upstairs to get John and Sherlock?”

“Oh, no need, dear,” Mrs. Hudson said, passing Josie back and standing to fetch the broom propped in the corner by the back door, then banging its handle against the ceiling several times. “They’ll be down in a minute.”