#bad thing happened bingo

[wolviecat]

Older cadets and troopers were hard to work with - they were strong, right, and knew how to fight, but also had enough brains to understand you are trying to help them. Most of them had, at least.

But the tiny ones only knew that getting sick or injured is a sure way to get decommissioned, so they saw the medics as their enemies and fought them with all they had - kicking, scratching, biting, screaming, and when everything else failed, crying so hard it broke even the most jaded medic's hearth.

For #badbatchbingo a @badthingshappenbingo Little baby Crosshairs with my OC medic Hush (one on left), who just get his nose broken by tiny batcher

BINGO!! And in both bingos, actually....

[kaciart]

@badthingshappenbingo Carved Mark

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Patreon | Ko-Fi

[tansyuduri]

Art by @kairennart for "Coronet and Witch Iron" Based on the Wheel of Fortune Tarrot Card

Arthur had barely opened his eyes the next morning when he heard Cenred’s voice calling, “It's time to do some experiments with Witch Iron!” 

Cenred came into view beyond the gate to their cell, a wide grin on his face.

Arthur stood slowly trying to ignore the aching pain in his body and the swollen painful eye. He crossed their small cell towards Cenred, a scowl on his face. Then a voice came from behind him, “You’re going to pay for how you hurt him.” Arthur tried to gesture for Merlin to shut up. He should have known better.

Merlin stepped forward instead. “Does hurting us make you feel like a powerful king?” he asked, scathingly. “Ooh wait! A powerful king wouldn’t need to do this. You are nothing but a pathetic excuse for a leader. Let alone a person. How does it feel to be so weak that you have to result to being a childlike bully to feel good?”

Arthur swore internally and grabbed Merlin's shoulder pulling him back. Merlin agitating Cenred was not surprising but after what he had said last night Arthur had hopped for a bit more restraint. Then he realized Merlin might be doing this on purpose in some sort of stupid self sacrificial attempt to make Cenred focus on him. But this was also Merlin. He couldn't be sure he could just be saying whatever he felt like. 

Cenred leered at them. His tone was not angry… more almost joyful. “You really are remarkably annoying. I will be entertained by shutting you up.”

Arthur stepped forward again ready to fight when the cell door opened.

“Arthur!” Merlin's word of warning and then coughing caught his attention. Arthur turned only for orange gas to hit his face. It was coming out of a vent above them. Immediately Arthur’s eyes started to water. He began to cough. 

Arthur dived, grabbing Merlin and tackling him to the ground amongst flailing limbs. Pure instinct drove him to try to protect. It would not be enough. That was Arthur's last coherent thought before he fell into darkness.

Read it here!

[bigfootsmom]

they all fall down

bucktommy • hurt/comfort • 13.5k

for BTHB: broken ribs

—Kinard, firefighter Buckley, come in!” Even with the hiss of static over the line, Tommy can hear the barely concealed worry in Nash’s voice. “Kinard, Buckley! Respond—” Relief floods through him, a laugh of disbelief tumbling from his mouth as he grabs at the headset. “Go for Kinard,” he answers breathlessly. — An obligatory helicopter crash story.

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[avvail]

truth potion/serum 😌

“What’s that?” The hero murmurs uneasily under their breath, watching as the villain carefully inserts the needle into the soft flesh of their forearm, making them wince slightly. They watch it plunge into their vein, only daring to tug against the restraints once the needle is out of their skin.

The villain merely sends them a smile. “Nothing that’ll kill you.”

“Let me guess,” the hero growls. “A fate worse than death? Are you really trying this bullshit with me after all this time?”

“You don’t think our dynamic is a conventional one?”

The hero shuts their mouth, contemplating what the villain’s game was. If it was a sedative, it was a slow acting one, since they couldn’t feel any symptoms creeping up on them just yet. It was peculiar - they felt just fine.

“Let’s be honest,” the hero sniffs, and they don’t miss the way the villain almost laughs in amusement. They don’t know why that’s funny. “If our relationship was a conventional one, you would have killed me the moment you kidnapped me.”

The villain hums, their eyes roaming from their face languidly, kissing their teeth. The hero watches with a stubborn frown as they begin to circle around them, ever so slowly, and it makes them nervous.

They try not to shift.

“You’re right,” the villain sighs from behind them, and they want nothing more than to crane around to keep their eyes on them, but they can’t. Their heart races relentlessly in their chest, clenching their jaw. “Would you rather we adhere to the stereotypes?”

They roll their eyes. “If it means getting killed, then why would I?”

“You’re self righteous and selfless, aren’t you?” The villain teases. “Doesn’t that come with your job?”

“It doesn’t mean I’m eager to die. Dying means defeat, and I wouldn’t ever let you defeat me. You and I both know that.”

The villain stops beside them, a smile on their face that the hero doesn’t like. They send them a sharp glare for good measure, just because they can.

“So, is that a no?”

The hero wants to know where this is headed.

“No,” they confirmed. The villain stepped closer to them, their thumb gently brushing over a tender bruise on their temple. The finishing blow that had rendered them unconscious, making it easy for the villain to drag them here into their clutches. The hero forces back a wince, their eyes hard and determined. The villain loves that look.

“But you’re like that with others,” the villain comments, still stroking their temple. “Other villains, I mean. Especially Supervillain - the typical good versus bad. You know they’d kill you if they could. Stereotypes, after all.”

To hero resists the urge to lean keenly into that touch. “Because I know Supervillain is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Their eyes gleam mischievously. “You don’t think I’m dangerous?”

They shift. No dizziness yet, and their vision is completely clear, along with their mind. It’s not a sedative. What are they planning?

“No,” they respond after a moment, and the villain’s jaw ticks. It’s the only sign of irritation they’ve seen from them, but their tongue blurts more before they can stop themselves. “You’re dangerous in different ways.”

The irritation disappears, and the thumb slips down their cheek.

“Dangerous in different ways,” they muse, as if chewing the words that came out of their mouth. The hero’s heart is pounding against their ribcage, and they’re not quite sure why. The villain is incredibly close, feeling pinned down by their cold gaze alone.

“You’re easier to be around,” the hero speaks, trying not to stammer over their words. “I...” I hate you, don’t get me wrong. That’s what they want to say, but their throat closes up before they can. The villain’s thumb strokes the bottom of their jaw, and they shiver, as if encouraging them.

“Because I know you won’t kill me. When given the chance, you go easy on me.”

“You think I go easy on you?”

The hero gives them a disgruntled look. “You never torture me. Last time you kidnapped me, I slept in one of your guest rooms.”

“You were still a prisoner, or did you forget?” The villain scoffs. Of course they had been. The hero had spent all night trying to pick the lock, to smash the windows, but there was no point. They were a prisoner, but it never felt like they were in danger. Not in the same sense they felt when the supervillain almost incapacitated them. It was different.

“That’s not the point,” the hero snaps, unaware of their own rising irritation. They jerk their head away from the touch, feeling as though it was distracting them. The villain has this arrogant smirk on their lips, as if they know exactly what they’re doing. “If I ever kidnapped you, I wouldn’t stick you in a luxurious room. I wouldn’t let you sleep on a bed, I wouldn’t have you here and not torture you.”

The villain hums, their voice dropping low. “You like it when I treat you good?”

“Yes.” No. “I do.” It’s weird.

It takes a single, heart stopping beat for the hero to realise what they’d just said, their brows furrowing in confusion. They open their mouth to say something else, before their eyes flick down to the red pinprick from the needle in their skin. They release a shuddering breath.

“A truth serum,” they breathe. “That’s what you injected me with.”

The villain lets out a dark, amused chuckle. “I was waiting for you to figure it out.”

They lean back, creating a rift of air between them where the hero can still feel their warmth. It still feels hard to breathe, their wrists flexing under the restraints, and they grind their teeth hard together. This is dangerous. This was exactly what they were talking about.

“Are you tired, Hero?” The villain’s soft voice questions, enough to make the hero swallow uneasily. Their heart is racing now, so fast they feel like they’re going to throw up. They screw their eyes shut.

“Yes,” they say, feeling fingers under their jaw, tipping their head back. Their eyes open instinctively. The villain almost coos.

“And you love how easy it is with me,” the villain murmurs, admiring the embarrassed, shunted look in those cute eyes of theirs. “Love how I treat you.”

The hero’s fists clench. They desperately try to say no. “Yes.”

“And,” the villain purrs, their thumb brushing along their bottom lip with precious ease,” it’s dangerous because it’s so easy to shut your brain off. So dangerous to let your guard down around me. Easy to manipulate, as much as you wish that wasn’t true.”

The hero almost whines. “Yes.”

“Do you think I’m manipulating you?” They ask, their voice a hushed whisper, like a soft lull in their brain. The hero squirms, but they still can’t look away, not even daring to swallow. The villain leans in closer, their lips so close to theirs, and their voice turns dark. “Do you think it’s working?”

Who knew the hero’s weakness was simple acts of kindness. The villain had never thought going so easy on them would make them putty in their hands. But it did.

The hero bites down on the inside of their cheek, straining not to answer. The villain’s fingers curl around a lock of their hair, tucking it behind their ear tenderly. Too tenderly - the hero loves it.

“Better not fight it,” they hum. “It’ll hurt.”

“Yes,” the hero finally gasps, the throbbing pain in their head easing. They almost feel out of breath, trembling under each of their cunning touches.

The villain’s eyes gleam, leaning forward to kiss them. The hero had been so adamant they could never defeat them, and it almost makes them crackle. Maybe never in the stereotypical sense, but they had proved this was not a stereotypical rivalry; what was true defeat if they didn’t conquer them, after all?

@badthingshappenbingo

[lonelychicago]

the plane was goin' down (how'd you turn it right around?)

buck/eddie | teen and up | 7k words

“The plane is sinking.” Eddie states, matter of factly, he blinks and his gaze clears just a little bit more. “And I'm going down with it.” The water is now almost hitting Eddie’s chest. Everyone has evacuated already, he's pretty sure. And Buck feels like a tender bruise, achy and broken. “If you go down, then I'll go down with you. I don't fucking care, Eddie!” Buck feels the sting of tears in his eyes, Eddie's hand moves slowly, his thumb brushing them away delicately and in their wake, leaving a trail of blood instead. Buck can't bring himself to care. or:

Eddie is coming back from his last tour on Afghanistan, excited that soon he'll be reunited with his family. Of course, as it's their luck, his plane goes down. @badthingshappenbingo prompt: wiping the other's tears away

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[princessfbi]

Hold On To The Memories (They Will Hold On To You)

“Ge-” Was all Tommy managed to get out before the unmistakable weight of a gun pressed into the back of his neck. Cold washed over Tommy’s too hot skin as he lifted his hands in the air. “Welcome home!”

BTHB Prompt: Knife to the Throat for BTHB Fics and @badthingshappenbingo

Read on Ao3

Rated: G | One Shot | Words: 11,679

[ditzyredrobin]

Tim Drake (The Spleen-Less Wonder)

My second Bad Things Happen square in as many days because I can’t control myself. 😅

Prompt: Bundled Up in Blankets

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“Jason, put me down, now!” Tim snaps, trying to wrestle his way out of the blanket burrito he is currently rolled into. He’s currently slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and pissed.

Well, beyond pissed.

Pissed doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the raging fury he’s currently feeling, being carried around like an oversized toddler. He kicks hard at Jason’s chest with his slippered feet, trying to gain some leverage to escape.

Jason isn’t even phased at his wriggling and kicking, he just keeps walking up the driveway. “What did I tell you, kid? Fuck around and find out.”

“It’s not that big a deal, seriously. It’s just a cold.”

It was. He hadn’t even broken 101 degrees yet which was barely even a fever and a total win in his book. If he was careful and took his antibiotics (which he had been, there was a timer set in his phone and everything) it would go away in no time.

“Like I said, you fucked around and now you’re going to find out. You could have stayed home but nooo. Tim Drake, the spleen-less fucking wonder, decided tonight was as good a night as any to hit the streets, never mind the sleet and windchill.” Jason mocks deadpan, renewing his grip. “Suck it up, buttercup. You did this to yourself. Deal with it.”

Tim rolls his eyes, “It’s Wayne.”

Jason pushes right through the front door to the manor without knocking. “What is?”

“My name. It’s not Drake, it’s Wayne.”

When he had been adopted, he’d officially become a Wayne. When he had taken over as CEO of Wayne enterprises after Batman had been lost in time, it only renewed that belief. He was a Wayne through and through and if the tabloids caught wind of his being carted around by strange men, he was going to have to send his publicist an apology bouquet again. And maybe a bottle of wine.

As much as Damian may have been opposed to it, he was a Wayne.

“Always a dramatic little shit,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Look, I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Drake or a Wayne or something else entirely. What I do give a fuck about is someone ruining the lead I’ve been working for over a month because he decided not to stay in bed like he was supposed to.”

“And I’m the one being dramatic?”

“Yeah, you are. You know, I’m really glad you’re finally taking the time to self reflect. You should try journaling or some shit when you’re feeling big feelings instead of passing out and nearly braining yourself.”

Really, it hadn’t been that bad. He just needed a minute to sit and then he would have been fine. If Jason hadn’t overreacted, he would not have almost lost his lead.

“I did not. I’m fine. Now can you put me down?”

“You passed right the fuck out, Replacement. That sounds pretty bad to me.” Jason says but doesn’t budge.

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

Tim groans, giving one last weak kick. This was getting him nowhere fast other than wanting his bed. The DayQuil and Red Bull were starting to wear off and the drowsiness was setting in again to bone deep exhaustion. The kind that makes him want to curl up for the next 24 hours and just sleep.

Not an option, unfortunately. He had a board meeting in just over six hours. If he manages to go to bed right now, he should still have time to get in a couple of hours of sleep before he needs to get ready.

“Bruce! Get out here and take care of your belongings.” Jason calls into the otherwise silent manor. It was just after six am meaning Bruce wouldn’t have been in bed for very long.

Tim grimaced at the way Jason’s voice echoed through the halls. If Jason’s complete disregard for the alarm didn’t wake him up, his shouting definitely did. “You really don’t have to do this.” He beds quietly, like that would help matters at all.

One could hope.

“Like hell I don’t.” Jason’s snaps back and opens his mouth like he’s going to yell again when Bruce comes running around the corner.

His eyes are panicked and he’s dressed in a robe, the tie is caddywhampus, and honest to god fuzzy bunny slippers. “Jay, what's wrong?” It takes him a long moment to process what he’s holding. “Is that-?”

“Yours.” Jason finishes, meeting Bruce half way. Without warning, he dumps Tim unceremoniously off his shoulders, earning him an indignant squawk.

If it had been anyone other than Bruce, Tim would have worried, bundled up so tight, he couldn’t stop himself before he hit the ground. But this was Bruce after all.

He caught Tim swiftly before he hit the ground, cradling to his chest. “Tim? What’s going on?”

Jason rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Next time, take care of your little birds, or I’m not giving them back. We don’t have any more mishaps do we?”

Bruce grimaces, tightening his grip on Tim, pulling him in just a little closer. “What happened? I thought he was supposed to be in bed last night.”

“He’s here too, you know.” Tim uttered but neither Bruce or Jason didn’t acknowledge him.

“Apparently someone failed to tell him that because one minute he was being an annoying little shit and the next he tried to pass the fuck out in the middle of an op. One I’ve been working for months, mind you.” Jason says. “All I know is if he fucks up like that again, it’ll be on your head. Capeesh?”

Bruce nods solemnly, looking pained. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.” Jason says, trying to sound annoyed but there was a fondness in his voice. “Seriously, don’t mention it. Just do better. The kid is an idiot with the self preservation skills of a wet paper bag.”

Bruce sighs, “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” And in a small voice adds, “You know you can stay too. You’re welcome home anytime, Jaylad. Alfred misses you, I miss you.”

“You know this isn’t my home, Bruce. I only came back for the kid.” Jason turns back to the door.

“Maybe so but Alfred is making pot roast on Sunday.”

Jason freezes for a moment. “I’ll…think about it.”

Bruce smiles softly, “I look forward to it. Goodnight, son.”

Jason waves him off and leaves, closing the front door behind him, muttering under his breath. Something about Tim and Bruce not being his dad and roast beef sandwiches.

With Jason gone, the entirety of Bruce’s attention is turned to Tim, examining him with big, blue eyes and a kicked-puppy look. “Did you really almost faint? Be honest with me.”

Tim looks away, feeling his cheeks flush. “Maybe? It really wasn’t that bad. I’m just tired.”

Bruce sighs again (because his sons will be the death of him) and starts towards the cave. “You could have gotten seriously injured if Jason wasn’t there.”

“I know.”

He did. There was just so much to do, he didn’t have time to sit down and rest like a civilian. Crime was an ever present entity—if he didn’t help, people were injured and bodies of the innocent filled the morgues. The bodies of good people with lives and hopes and families and dreams.

What use was he if he couldn’t help?

“Do you, Tim? What would’ve happened if you were by yourself? What if your cold gets worse or turns into pneumonia again?”

“I know,” he says again in a small voice.

He really, truly did, but crime stopped for no one.

Bruce’s sighs exasperated, “You’re benched and staying here until you’re better where Alfred and I can monitor you.”

No, no, no, no, no! He can’t—he won’t.

“You can’t, please, I can’t.” Tim begs.

“You can and you will. I will also be handling the board meeting that mysteriously disappeared from my calendar.” Bruce says, giving him a knowing look.

Tim grimaces, “You noticed?”

“I noticed.” Bruce confirms.

He’s Batman. Of course he noticed.

“And there’s no way I can convince you to change your mind?”

Bruce shakes his head, carrying him not back up the stairs to his room, but the clock and the cave. “Not a chance, bud.”

There was no escaping now, not when Bruce’s mind was made up. If they were heading to the cave, where Alfred must have already been waiting, no doubt with an endless supply of warm blankets and IV fluids. He was sure there would be chicken soup later when it was closer to any normal person's time of day.

Tim leans his head back against Bruce—his father’s—shoulder, letting his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” It’s a small thing but Bruce hears him and hugs him a little closer.

“I know you are. Let’s get you to bed and later we’ll have a long conversation about self care and boundaries, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, already half asleep. He didn’t want to but it was unavoidable. Now he would focus on the gentle sway as he walked, the thrum of his heart in his chest. “Hey dad?”

“Hm? What's up, champ?”

“I love you.”

Bruce chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of his hair. “I love you, too.”

[asidian]

North Star

by: Asidian

Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives

Event: @charles-rowland-week Day 5: Earring @badthingshappenbingo: Needles

Pairing: Charles/Edwin

Warnings: needles, piercings, child abuse, Mr. Rowland's A+ parenting

Excerpt:

The earring's a bloody awful idea. Charles knows the second he lays eyes on it.

He knows in about the same instant he's gonna do it anyway, cause he never stops and thinks, does he? His dad's always saying so.

[defectivehero]

Bad things happen bingo enemy turned caretaker (villain if possible 😈) PLEASEEUUUHHH🙏🙏🙏

Okay, so my first instinct for this is to go with a villain caretaker, because duh. Then I thought... let's reverse it. Then I thought... nah. Let's make it a bit... interesting. Heeheehee..... Hee...... Heehee.... It may not be exactly what you expected, but I hope you enjoy!

@badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Enemy Turned Caretaker

The hero's hand blurs as they attempt to reach for the doorbell of the far too familiar building. They completely miss and groan, instead attempting to clench their fist and knock on the door itself. The effort is strangely difficult, but they manage to make it work, because within moments the door swings open.

"Oh, hello." The villain says, blinking at the injured hero on their doorstep. "Fancy seeing you here." They don't sound particularly surprised, only annoyed.

"...Hello." The hero manages to respond through the haze of pain. They blink and the villain's teeth grow long and sharp. Another blink and they're gone. The hero must be losing it. Maybe they have a concussion, on top of everything else.

"I assume you need my help." The villain states dryly, nothing but disinterest present in their voice. They cross their arms over their chest.

The hero doesn't bother sugarcoating it. "Yes." They agree. "Please." They add on, if only to appeal to the villain's somewhat masochistic tendencies. And with perfectly awful timing, the hero lurches on their feet, blindly grasping at the doorframe so they don't face-plant into the ground.

The villain lets out a long-suffering sigh, clearly annoyed. "Fine, fine." They drawl. "Can't have the city's favorite hero dying on my doorstep. It would certainly raise questions." The villain sidles up to the hero and throws the hero's arm around their shoulder, guiding them into the room and onto the nearby sofa. There's already some sort of towel over it, the hero notes dazedly as they're gently guided down to sit. Their enemy must collapse on this piece of furniture, bleeding and exhausted, rather often.

The villain works quietly and methodically. They must be practiced with this sort of thing. After all, the hero has inflicted injuries upon them before.

The hero is silent for a while, before their curiosity gets the best of them. "You know, you're supposed to ask, 'Who did this to you?'" They say with slight amusement. Indeed, the villain has been almost uncharacteristically speechless as they've patched them up.

"Ah, I suppose I should." The villain says with a smile of recognition. They finish with the bandages, a deceptively gentle gesture that leaves the hero almost struggling for breath. "But I already know."

The hero's chest lurches. Something doesn't feel right all of a sudden. The world swirls and blurs around them, and all they can see is their enemy looming over them with that knowing smile on their face. Fuck. Fuck. "You do." They say skeptically. The past hour flies before their eyes in quick glimpses: beaten to a pulp, abandoned in an alleyway, the villain's far too opportune appearance...

"Yes." The villain confirms with a hum, sitting on the opposite arm of the sofa and looking down at them. "I must say, it went rather well. Exceeded my expectations, really." They grin.

"How...?" The hero chokes out, despite already knowing the answer. They're not even bound or restrained, but they feel so incredibly powerless. The fatigue eating at their bones is enough to leave them practically immobile underneath their enemy's gaze. Their wounds still burn, their muscles still aching from the exertion.

"Oh, you know," the villain waves a hand flippantly. "I just got a few of my men—the rather brutish ones—to ambush you. Leave you for dead in an alleyway, conveniently located near my headquarters."

...And the hero fell for it—hook, line, and sinker. They could've gone anywhere else, yet they went right to their enemy. What the hell compelled them to run straight to the villain's doorstep? They've made a grave oversight, assuming the villain's treatment came for free. Their enemy never does anything out of the good of their heart.

"Too easy, really." The villain continues, a smile on their face. "You fell right into my arms, just as I planned." They rest their chin on their hand and stare at them.

The hero feels like they're going to throw up. "...And now?" The hero whispers, their heart racing. They are not safe here—that much is abundantly clear.

"Ah, yes, now." The villain hums. They tap their fingers against their chin, before letting their arms fall to rest on their knees. "Well, there are nearly infinite possibilities."

"As much as I'd hate to destroy all my hard work," the villain trails off, dragging their finger up the hero's bandaged ankle. They suddenly strengthen their grip and the hero hisses at the uncomfortable pressure. "I quite like the idea of cutting you up again."

The hero stares at them with a mix of disbelief, frustration, and horror. Their enemy only laughs.

©2025, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

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[giddlygoat]

i remembered this post existed and frantically drew this at 1 am last night

[kaciart]

@badthingshappenbingo Severed Tendon for Mimi

-

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[tansyuduri]

Art by @kairennart for "Nine Lives" Based on the Five Of Swords Tarrot Card.

Arthur smoothed Merlin's hair again, trying to calm his own breathing. “He’s not waking up,” Arthur’s voice cracked.

“Give it a moment. His body has been through a lot,” Gaius told him. Arthur nodded and tilted Merlin's face upward again. “You’re alright,” he whispered again, “you’re alright. Everything is alright.” Except it wasn’t, and Arthur had no idea how the curse would strike next. 

He watched Merlin, trying not to hyperventilate as he cradled the other man’s cheek. His thumb stroked it gently. “Come on…” Arthur begged, “wake up… You’re alright…” He had to be alright.

Finally, Merlin’s eyes slowly flickered open. The blue that reminded Arthur of a night sky flicked around the room quickly before meeting Arthur’s own eyes and focusing slowly. It was the most beautiful sight Arthur had ever seen. 

It was all he could do not to kiss him right then and there. Let him breathe, he reminded himself. Let him breathe. His thumb continued to stroke Merlin's cheek. He bent forward and kissed his forehead again. Pulling back, he discovered Merlin's eyes still focused on him. 

“Merlin…you can hear me?”  Arthur asked.

Merlin gave a very slight nod, eyes still staring up into Arthur’s. 

“Good, it's about time you woke up from your beauty rest.” It was all Arthur could do to keep his tone even and his voice from cracking as he spoke. 

Merlin’s gaze instantly switched to being utterly incredulous. His eyes practically screamed “you ass”. 

Arthur started to laugh hysterically, and he leaned down, embracing Merlin with both arms. Taking a few deep breaths of his own before pulling back, he sat on the end of Merlin’s bed and pulled the other man close. One hand rubbed up and down Merlin’s back while the other caressed the nape of his neck and the bottom of his black hair. Arthur’s lips pressed over Merlin’s skin wherever he could reach.

Internally, he continued to panic, because this could never happen to Merlin again. And it would if he didn’t do something. An idea struck him, perhaps he could plead with the witch— convince her that her revenge was better if the victim of it was him. 

Fic found here!

[onesmolhurts]

And from that day on he never spoke (over anyone) ever again. 🥹💖

Rendered mute / @badthingshappenbingo

[dangerpronebuddie]

I Am What I Am Cause You Trained Me (5k)

"So it's all my fault Christopher’s first instinct is to run?" Eddie protests. “And Shannon's?” "Eddie, you enlisted," Helena says gently, but there's nothing gentle about it. "And Shannon ran off to LA," Ramon adds, oh so helpfully. "And I was ten years old when you told me to step up and be the man of the house because you weren't around," Eddie says, jabbing a finger towards Ramon. Ramon does at least look a little guilty about it. Helena, as always, is undeterred. "He was angry at you, Eddie. He needed his space." "Which I was giving him," Eddie hisses. "You didn't have to take him away for him to get a little space or time or whatever he needed." "He asked us to come get him," Helena reasons. Buck, who'd been quiet so far, steps beside Eddie and speaks, his shoulder brushing Eddie's in silent reassurance. "And you didn't think to at least consider trying to mediate first?"

[read on ao3]

For the @badthingshappenbingo prompt: verbal abuse

[perfectlysunny02]

in the dead of the night, you are my guiding light.

“That’s the thing though,” Evan said, looking at him all soft and as if Tommy had hung the moon. “About Orpheus and Eurydice. He was never going to make it. He loved her. Hades himself wouldn’t have even made it. I wouldn’t have made it either if I were with you.” Tommy had frowned at Evan, the thought was not pleasant. “So you would doom us to an eternity of hell?” “It’s not like that,” Evan said, taking his hand, with a light chuckle. “It’s like you’re in the wrong part of town, the scary, unsafe part, and you’re behind me. I’m checking behind me to see if you’re okay if you’re safe. Even if I know you can take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. You’re everything.” And suddenly, losing the ability to breathe, Tommy understood what this was. This was love. 

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