#writing meme response

[edandstede]

imagine it. sherlock returns in 2026. the baby is gone. what baby? the baby never existed. all the conspirators are vindicated. sherlock and john fuck nasty and the skull with glowing eyes on the wall watches. mystrade is canon. there is never any mention of his sister again and we still don’t know if sherlock’s best friend was a boy or a dog and at this point everyone is too afraid to ask.

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ prompts for helping bathe an injured loved one

¹⁾ sitting on the edge of the bathtub and letting them lay their head against your thigh as the fatigue starts taking hold

²⁾ “i know, i know it hurts but hold on for just a little longer and we’re done, yeah? think you can do that for me, pet?”

³⁾ helping them lean up so you can wash their back, and pretending not to notice them shaking in your arms

⁴⁾ “you needn’t be so gentle, y’know. if today wasn’t enough to break me, i doubt an ill-applied handful of shampoo will.”

⁵⁾ using your soapstuffs because the familiar scent will, hopefully, help calm them

⁶⁾ “i can’t believe it took a night like that for you to let me help you with something.”

⁷⁾ having never seen them in a state of undress before and so, trying admirably hard to avoid looking directly at them in such a vulnerable state

⁸⁾ “so mr/mrs surly and serious likes having their hair washed for them, hm? don’t worry, i’ll keep your secret.”

⁹⁾ climbing into the bath/shower with them, more for the physical comfort than practicality

¹⁰⁾ “i wish the first time you saw me like this could’ve been under better circumstances.”

¹¹⁾ stripping down to the same level of undress as them in an effort to try and make them feel more comfortable

¹²⁾ “can we- can we just stay here, like this, for a minute? please?”

¹³⁾ using as gentle a touch as possible to clean them off and feeling your heart break each time they still suppress a pained whimper

¹⁴⁾ “it’s just me now. you don’t have to be brave anymore.”

¹⁵⁾ trying to towel them dry but ending up just cradling them to your chest with the towel pressed aimlessly between you

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade: I have an idea for an Unsolved Mysteries episode.

Logan: And what is that?

Wade: They need to dedicate an episode to investigate how I get blamed every single day for everything that goes wrong in this household even when I'm gone for two days.

[thatonecrazysidekick]

@sunfloweraro I'm sorry it took so long to respond to you on this post, but I needed to draw this before any further action could be taken.

Yippee, Ravio will get comfort!! My sanity is safe (for now). Hilda and Zelda appearances would be cool, and a Sheerow POV would be quite interesting indeed!! I wonder what that bird is thinking behind those blank little eyes...

[rat-prophetess]

Pathologic Classic HD + reductress headlines that I made on my phone during smoke breaks

I have several problems and I am addressing none of them

[mythicalmage]

All this time, Rayla was reading smutty self-insert fix-it Conrad/Esmerelda RPF (and thinking about Callum).

[yasmindifference]

trick or treat! 🎃🎃

(i tried the generator and got this wonderful prompt if you wanna give it a shot)

Have one of your characters give the other a tension-filled, flirty palm reading. Bonus points if their reading is total bullshit they're making up on the spot as an excuse to touch the other.

happy halloween!!! 🦇🦇🦇🎃👻🎃🦇🦇🦇 unfortunately, the muse doesn't feel like writing anything substantial at the moment, so how about a sneak peek instead? i've been poking at this fic for a while...originally it was for the animal transformation prompt during last year's(?) jaytim week, but it didn't work out. featuring robin!jason as the unfortunate victim of animal transformation, and tim as the good-hearted bat-stalker who takes a lost little kitten home:

Jason is contemplating how many months it’ll take him to walk all the way to Bristol, trying not to cry, when a sudden metallic SCREECH nearly scares him out of his skin.

Fun fact: the adorable bristling thing startled cats do? Not as fun from this side of it.

It takes him several heart-stopping minutes to identify the ongoing rattling sound as a fire escape, and then…well, then he just feels silly, because it turns out the source of his terror is a little boy climbing down said fire escape.

Wait.

Embarrassment fading in favor of concern, Jason creeps closer, watching the kid descend. It’s gotta be like four in the morning by now. Where is he going?

Looking at the kid’s backpack, his first thought is he’s running away. But then the kid hits the ground and, once he’s close enough for Jason to read his expression, he doesn’t look scared or upset or whatever. Actually, he doesn’t really look like anything at all, except maybe tired.

He’s moving like this is some regular errand. Just sneaking out at four a.m. at age baby.

[flickeringquip]

header art & Mikie belong to @femboyhunting, Rhett belongs to @wreckowafer

If someone had asked you what Rhett and Mikie were to you even just a few weeks ago, you’d have probably have kept it short and sweet: Headaches.

You couldn’t have even said when your views of the fucking menaces had begun to shift until it was glaring you right in the face.

Like right now.

(1) But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Go back to the start.

Breaking orphans out the pillories at night was nothing new to you these days. It was practically a part of your nightly circuit, going out of your way to check on your way between Landry’s bar and the mansions on Danube street. You recognized the two locked up — you’d be kinda shit at your self-assigned job if you didn’t — but had no real idea what their names were.

Also fairly standard, honestly. Most of the fellow orphans you helped were there and gone as soon as you got them out of trouble and it became clear you weren’t going to demand some sort of reward, or else didn’t even bother to wait around long enough to find out.

So you couldn’t have really known what you were getting into when you set to work picking the locks open, free one of them and then the other before standing back, pivoting on your heel to scan for trouble—

And not at all prepared for the brawny arm that slung over your shoulder, tensing up something fierce as you just barely avoided face-planting into their chest at the tug.

“The fuck I tell you, Mikie? Hope ain’t lost,” The taller of the two guys and the one who nearly smushed your face into his chest at his sudden proximity was loud, loud enough to have even more alarm bells ringing in your mind, your attempt to whip your gaze to the surroundings ruined even further when the fucker ruffles your hair? “—She’s just short as fuck.���

(1) What the fuck?

“Shit, you right,” Mikie, presumably, laughs with the same kind of elated carelessness you really don’t think suits the situation, being that you’re all still standing right beside the fucking pillories, “Fuck, you’re a life saver, Bubblegum — glad to see the revolution ain’t down to just Rhett and me.”

Bubblegum? Revolution?

“Hell fucking yeah it’s not!” The mere mention of the word seems to incite Rhett(?) to, sadly, an even louder volume, an almost crazed glint to his eyes that you’re pretty sure is pure adrenaline as he shouts, “Viva la fuckin’ Revolution!”

What had you done to deserve this?

“Viva the Revolution, baby!”

And now they were both shouting, increasingly animated despite the bruises quite literally littering both of their bodies, and you’ve only just ducked out and under Rhett's arm when you hear a familiar siren start up very close by.

Fantastic.

"We should—"

You aren't given the opportunity to finish that sentence. Why?

Because you instead find yourself hauled up and over Rhett's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, entirely unbothered by your startled flailing as he gives your ass a pat that is a little too close to a smack to really count as reassuring.

"Don't worry, strawberry shortcake— we won't leave ya and your short ass legs behind!"

For the first time since you'd arrived in this town, you begin to wonder if you shouldn't have tried to help.

(1) And like Pandora's Box, it seems there's no coming back now that you've unleashed the two of them.

After that day, you begin to see them everywhere.

Not always together, of course, but it feels like you can't go a day without running into one of them — or them into you, sometimes literally.

A jaunt through the residential alleys finds you turning a corner just in time to watch Mikie blow some guy off before the man shoves some bills in his hand and staggers off. He's licking his lips when he turns and notices you, waving before he meanders off. You wave back.

You spot Rhett on the beach when you stop to check on Robin, clad in the tiniest pair of swim shorts you've ever seen and his chest on full display. You think his tits are actually bigger than yours.

You perform at Briar's club every Wednesday night — too many people home at night in the mid-week for robberies to be all that profitable, you've found — and notice familiar faces popping in and out of the crowds as you climb and spin and slide around your pole.

(1) And the more you run into them, the more they seem to seek you out.

You'll go out to case the next house on your hit-list and instead find yourself — sometimes literally — swept into one of their harebrained schemes for the evening instead. Very rarely, you come out net positive, or at least break even with what you would've made on your own—

Most of the time finds you caught in some precarious situation with them or because of them or both.

You've found yourself crammed into too small closets with both of them as you try to avoid getting caught in the factory, every breath threatening to expose all of you with how the metal groans against your combined mass.

You've been caught flat-footed when you squeeze through somewhere they can't fit through only to come face to face with mobsters, monsters, and what feels like everything else in between.

You've been used as bait, as being the smallest makes you the most appealing victim among the three of you — which is true but you certainly don't enjoy the reminder, Rhett — only for their covers to be blown minutes into whatever party or event they'd been trying to infiltrate to cause chaos from within.

Yet, no matter what kind of trouble one of their harebrained schemes lands you in—

(1) They never leave you behind, even when you're adamant that they should.

You've tumbled out of hiding places and gotten hurt by landing wrong, or ending up beneath both of them, or both, only for Mikie to haul your arm over his shoulder to help you hop and limp your way out while Rhett creates a distraction in a different direction.

You've seen them burst into whatever space you'd crawled into from another direction to beat off whatever creep or creature you'd stumbled into.

You've been 'kidnapped' by Rhett when a party only you'd managed to sneak into started turning really fucking weird, slowly becoming more amused than annoyed at how often you find yourself slung over his shoulder as Mikie carries whatever random valuables you'd managed to steal along the way.

And despite your very vocal dislike for their reckless antics, you never quite find it in you to truly turn them down when they corner you with a new dumb, anarchist plot.

. . .When they even bother to give you much of a choice in the matter, anyway.

(1) And eventually you have to admit, at least to yourself, that they've started to grow on you.

Which means when you hear that the pair of them have been arrested and the cops seemed really excited about it, you're quick to grab your lockpicks and head towards the station, dread twisting in your middle.

While it should be a relief that you don't find either of them in the pillories, it only sends alarm skittering down your spine as you sprint towards the police station.

It takes you a few tries to sneak into the compound without getting caught, but the quiet that greets you beyond the reception area only makes you feel worse. There’s nothing quiet about Rhett or Mikie; where were they that you can’t hear them?

It takes a few minutes that feel like hours, but finally you find the two you've almost fondly begun calling your personal headaches— but the sight that awaits you beyond the interrogation door does something to you. Something that has you moving on auto-pilot, a passenger in your own body as a harsh buzz settles in your ears.

Beat to the point of near unconsciousness, three cops surround your erstwhile troublemakers. Both are handcuffed, arms strung up high above their heads — and entirely at the mercy of the roaming, rough hands of the cops surrounding them, who hold nothing back as they pinch and grope and even punch, eliciting a groan from one of the two that only thickens the haze over your thoughts and the brings the white-noise in your ears to a near-deafening volume.

(1) Time moves in snapshots.

One: you’re slipping inside of the room with barely a sound, the rattle of chains shielding the soft click of the door when you close it behind you.

Two: hands that don’t feel like your own find a wooden bat tucked off to the side near the door, doubtlessly confiscated from one of the two boys. Your personal headaches. Your troublemakers. Your boys.

They’d hurt your friends.

Three: the sound of splintering wood fills the air, and between one hazy blink and the next, one of the cops has crumpled to the ground. You feel disconnected from the violence as you swing, catching the next uniformed bastard in the jaw when he turns sharply in your direction, realizing the danger too slowly to avoid the blow. The third has more time, scrambling away as your overhead swing slams into the ground instead. They reach for their belt, and all of your instincts shriek in unison as you throw the bat, the wooden barrel slamming into their face with a sickening crunch that doesn’t even begin to sate the bloodlust coursing through you.

The only one conscious to punish, you pounce the moment they slump back against the wall; the sturdy heel of your combat boots smashes into their kneecap hard enough to make them scream — you snag a fistful of their hair before they can crash to the ground.

(1) You want to slam their face into the wall for every bruise you’d seen on Rhett and Mikie— but something does, eventually, make it past your bloodlust.

Your name.

Your real name, instead of Bubblegum, or Shortcake, or whatever pet name they think is oh-so-clever in the moment, but—

“Aster!”

You’re disoriented as you blink towards them, unsure of which of them even said it — Rhett, maybe? — as something drips down your cheek. A touch finds it red, but you don’t remember even getting hit; a glance down at the bat you’re holding finds it more red than brown, a fact that has your vision swimming a little before Mikie’s voice draws you back.

“Y’just gonna leave us hangin’, Bubblegum?”

Of course not. You’d come here to rescue them.

“Then why don’tcha get to work on these cuffs, yeah?”

Right. Yes. You needed to. . . Do that.

The disassociation holds fast as you work on freeing both of them, the motions smooth and practiced despite how foggy you feel.

They’re both a little shaky as they find their bearings, but somehow you can’t help but feel like somehow they seem concerned about you, but that doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t get arrested, beat, and molested, alongside who knows what else. You just—

(1) You did what you had to.

Sneaking back out of the police station must have been an affair, but you can’t seem to maintain enough focus to remember. When you come back to yourself, the three of you are crammed into the orphanage bathroom even though you have no real memory of even crossing town.

Something tight in your chest relaxes as you watch the both of them go about cleaning themselves up, the world re-orienting itself as Mikie snarks and Rhett replies with something even worse. A pair of wolf whistles cut through the air when you finally start unbuttoning your shirt, and you huff a laugh that is only tinged in a bit of hysteria as you flip them both off.

You hadn’t lost anyone.

You hadn’t lost anyone this time.

(1) And you could keep it that way, if you just tried hard enough.

[suzukiblu]

a quickie lil' Saturday night kink meme! ✨️🍑✨️

( for reasons that totally don't have annnnnything to do with me being extremely ADHD and/or susceptible to anons randomly asking me about fun writing meme options when I was already halfway debating doing a writing meme this weekend. definitely not. )

Send me an ask with a kink and a DC character and/or pairing included, and I will write you a lil' bit of related kink and/or porn in return! Also open to just getting sent a kink if you want surprised, and I'll do dealer's choice for the character or pairing.

Also-also, not a mandatory thing, but bonus points for:

a) rarepairs,

b) KON rarepairs,

and

c) giving me a reason why you think the kink vibes with the character/pairing.

Multiple requests are fine; just please send 'em in separate asks, it makes it way easier for me to answer them.

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Me: wrote this two days ago

Also me: is surprised by my characters actions and motives

[write-it-motherfuckers]

what if we replace fuck marry kill with hug adopt slap for underage characters. better version

How about hug, adopt, therapy? H.A.T for short

[raayllum]

me asking myself if callum would torture someone for information if rayla or ezran's lives were on the line

[savebylou]

omg I just found some old bread I forgot about in my room, fully in mould, smelling awful and fucking warm, it was that bad and the first thought I had after jesus fucking christ and gotta clean this shit up was lol gotta look out for any anti thoughts now, I was breathing mould after all

💀🤣 anon this make me laugh thank you. Sorry to hear that you will have to deal with the mold. We all have mold infestation in our minds lol, so don't feel alone.

Thank you for sending this I never get this type of ask, I hope you have a lovely day/afternoon/ night.

[saphstories]

@maddiebwrites 😗🎵🎵 😁😁😁👀👀👀👀

[lainalit]

SJM writing Acotar 6

[can-of-slorgs]

Final surprise boop attack for @yowassupitsred!!

Faeran would 100% be really obnoxious about Calamari, and would intentionally make others appreciate her boopings haha.

(Secret second boop attack to @starbiology in revenge to the april fools war because even though i didn't know if you had any characters, I think of her as your character by this point and I found this scenario hilarious in my mind)