#bthb 2020

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Here is your card for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Happy writing!

---

BLOCK “KAT’S BTHB” TO AVOID SEEING THIS

Requests for my bad things happen bingo card are now open! Anyone is free to request a character + prompt, and you may include a larger plot/more details if you want to! Keep in mind, your prompt may not always be chosen.

To request, just send in an ask!

Fandoms I’ll be including are: Ninjago, DuckTales 2017, Lego Monkie Kid, Rise of the TMNT, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, Sonic live action movies, ZOMBIES (specifically Wyatt but potentially open to others as well)

[twi-writes]

Here is your card for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Happy writing!

-

finally, FINALLY i am digging this thing out of the drafts after three years of having it (??!! holy shit lmao) since i have a fic for one of these squares that is very close to being published soon 👀

[orionares]

BTHB: Make an Example of Them

BTHB: Make an Example of Them

NCIS: Los Angeles

@badthingshappenbingo

—----

A/N: This takes place during episodes 12x07 "Overdue" through 12x09 "A Fait Accompli."

—-----

December 2020- Brunswick, Georgia

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” 

Ex- NCIS Supervisory Special Agent and FLETC Trainer Benjamin Lowe pulls off his glasses in disbelief at the cadet file that sits at the top of the pile on his desk. He briefly rubs his eyes as he sits at the mahogany desk in his study, hoping that the name of the cadet and more importantly, that the operations manager and office of origin listed is either a mistake or his imagination. 

Applicant Office: NCIS- Southwest: Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles

Operations Manager: Admiral Hollace Kilbride/ Henrietta Lange: 

Applicant Name: Deeks, Martin Atticus 

What in the absolute hell? One of Hetty’s little pet projects got into FLETC? 

Lowe leans back in the chair and pulls the file into his lap. Henrietta Lange is a name he hasn’t heard a lot since retiring from NCIS and opting to teach at FLETC. He’s found it to be a gift, not having to deal with the woman who’d damn near got him killed in 1998 during an investigation in Djibouti and interrupted four of his investigations during the last fourteen years with her little team back in Los Angeles. 

And that  little pet project- the motor mouth had rambled incessantly during every bloody  investigation. When Lowe opens the file and sees the blue eyes, the cocky smirk and the messy blonde hair of Marty Deeks, he remembers his eye twitching during the last investigation while thinking- someone needs to chop off your damn hair.

Lowe’s eyes flicker over to the man’s age and he’s immediately tempted to break open the twenty-six year old scotch sitting in his bookshelf at the obvious gap between the cut off age and Deeks’ age.

“What kind of strings did that little psychopath pull to get you in?” Lowe mutters as he scans the recommendations from LAPD and various members of the Navy, Marines and even Interpol. “Blackmail? Money? Because my God- I’m not wasting time on-”

Reason for termination- Liaison position cut; budget cuts at LAPD

A small smile grows on Lowe’s face at the line at the bottom of the first page. “You sound like a desperate man in need of a job, Detective.” 

He flips the page and scans the first two paragraphs of the interview that had taken place a week prior. Nothing stands out at him- nothing screams out at him to give him answers to the question he needs. 

How did you get into FLETC- no, how did Henrietta get you in?

Lowe glances over to the remaining pages in the file and decides to shut the case and exhale. He replays the last time he’d crossed paths with Henrietta and her merry band of agents. 

“You screwed me, Lange. This is my-”

“Walk it off, Lowe. This investigation is mine."

He huffs in frustration again and makes his decision- Alright, Marty Deeks. You are going to be the shining example of what a FLETC and more importantly, a federal agent shouldn't ever look like. 

Lowe glances back over to the scotch and sighs, thinking- And I’m going to make sure everyone knows that everything and everyone Hetty touches is poison.

—-----

Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, Glynco- Brunswick, Georgia- January 2021

"So you're doing Advanced Interviewing? Cool, cool, cool- look, Deeks- there's something you need to know."

Fatima's warning, coming in the form of a nervous, rambling phone call, brings just fabulous news. 

Marty Deeks winces as he gingerly walks behind a group of cadets walking to classroom 226. He inhales and exhales every few steps as he fights off the pain from his sprained ribs and shoulder strain from an overzealous cadet during sparring. 

And now, Deeks thinks as he pauses in front of the classroom, I'm about to be taught by someone who hates me and Hetty. Great.

Deeks pushes the classroom door open and finds the room to have four rows of three desks each, all facing a broad shouldered older man writing something on the board. Deeks slides into the closest available seat in the back row. 

“Sit down,” Lowe grumbles. He continues to write out the full class name- Advanced Interviewing for Law Enforcement Investigators- on the board as he continues, “I only have you lot for five days and there is a hell of a lot to cover.”

And hopefully you don’t spend half of that picking on me, Deeks thinks. He quickly glances over to the other cadets, recognizing the arrogant ex- soldier mirroring Sam in his early days, the ex- FBI agent going through retraining and two cadets that could be twins scattered around in random desks throughout the room.

“So, let’s begin,” Lowe states. He steps towards the first row of desks and he begins to scan the group of students. “You all already have the basics for interviewing victims, witnesses and suspects but now we’re going to refine it with more techniques, more opportunities to practice those techniques and-”

Lowe stops just as his eyes fall on Deeks. The ex-detective looks down to his desk and waits for the impending comment. 

Briefly, after a few seconds pass, he has hope that Lowe will be professional. 

But of course, Lowe doesn’t. 

“But before we start,” Lowe says with a grin. He walks around the furthest corner desk and towards Deeks. “We have a unique case as a cadet here. A police detective who got in over the age limit."

Goddamn it, Deeks thinks. He sneaks a glance over to another cadet- Jameson or Johnson if he can remember correctly- who eyes him suspiciously. Lowe stops in front of Deeks’ desk and smiles down at him as if looking at a child. “Ladies and gentleman, I’ve worked with this man and he thinks everything is a goddamn joke.”

“Knew something was off,” the ex-soldier mutters under his breath. 

Deeks shakes his head and looks back up to Lowe. “It was a pleasure each time,” he replies through gritted teeth. 

“There’s that sense of humor,” Lowe counters and turns on his feet. “So let’s start this class with you all learning on what not to do when interviewing. Learn from someone who shouldn’t be here, by any means.” 

“And how is that…..sir?” 

Lowe pulls out a chair from an empty desk and turns it towards the class. “By answering a few questions. Sharing your own experience as a ‘liason’. Let’s go.”

This can’t be a thing, can it?  Deeks wonders as he rises to his feet and starts walking up to Lowe, feeling every pair of eyes on him. It’s a stark reminder- a flashback- of his sixth grade teacher who had paraded him up to the front of the class to try to catch him for not paying attention.

He had been paying attention and easily vindicated.

Or the time a Lieutenant Compton had paraded him in front of officers on his first day in the undercover unit as an example of ‘lawyer turned cop wannabe’. 

“Take a seat, superstar,” Lowe orders. He leans against his desk with crossed arms as Deeks sits in the chair. He opts to look straight ahead instead of on the crowd or Lowe.

He wants me to look uncomfortable. He wants to feed off of the power. 

“I’ve crossed paths with you four times, Detective-” Lowe states, “and every single time, you've seen to take things as a goddamn joke. Every time . And that proves that you've skated through this job without a scratch."

He’s underestimating me. Just like so many others have. Deeks shifts in his seat but keeps his eyes glued on the door. "I disagree…sir."

"Really now?" Lowe challenges. He kneels on Deeks' left side and scoffs, "What's the worst thing you've seen on the job?"

Deeks can’t tell what shocks him more- the unprofessionalism or the questions in itself. Even in the sessions with Nate and the NCIS psychologist Kilbride had required the team to go to a few months after his arrival, no’s ever asked that question. 

So Deeks opts for the only thing he can think of. “No.”

"Excuse me?"

“I’m not- I can’t answer that,” Deeks replies, “Your question is leading. Law enforcement officers are usually asked questions like that in therapy or intimate moments. My instinct with a question like that is to recall cases that were traumatic to me physically and or emotionally. So-"

"You got here on special treatment, " Lowe sneers. "What could possibly qualify-”

"You haven’t- Fine." Deeks leans forward and cups his hands together. "You need a cognitive restatement when doing a cognitive interview- think back to such and such and tell me what you hear, see, feel. I have to pick a case first."

In the corner of his eye, he can see a few of the cadets exchange looks. "Do you want something from the years of me going undercover in the LAPD, knowing that no one cared if I lived or died? I could recall the time where after being beaten for hours, my Lieutenant threw me an ice pack and threw me on another case right after? I did that for years- it'd take me a minute to pinpoint one."

Lowe holds out a hand to stop him but the ex- detective continues, as if on autopilot. He's numb as he continues to recall every traumatic moment that comes to mind. “I could do the times I’ve gone overseas to places like Syria and Iraq and put my life on the line to protect this country?" 

Behind him,  Lowe mutters, "You didn't- You never-"

Deeks feels himself shaking with anger but can’t bring himself to move. Instead, he takes a breath and says as calmly as possible, “I could recall the injuries myself and my team have experienced- the helicopter that nearly killed my wife and took her leg, the TBI I had from a rocket blowing us up in Mexico?”

Deeks drops his shoulders and finally looks back to Lowe. “Or do you want to hear the time when someone took me, tied  me down and drilled in my mouth! Because if you want a memory to start the conversation, I could focus on the sound of the drill or the feel of blood drying on my mouth and my neck from sitting in a room for hours after!” 

“Jesus,” a cadet in the front mutters under his breath. It pulls Deeks back into reality and he lets out a shaky breath. “Most importantly, in cognitive interviewing, you do not overwhelm the person you are interviewing as it will cloud the rapport and their recall. So am I done?”

After a few moments of silence, Deeks looks up to see Lowe staring him down blankly. He’s pale and unnerved as he takes a few steps back from Deeks and rubs his chin. 

“Fine. All of you can go. That’s it for the day.” Lowe mutters. He waves off and turns his away and Deeks doesn’t take another second before calmly rising from his chair and walking back towards the door. He’s the first one out of the room and takes an immediate beeline towards the closest empty classroom. 

Shutting the door behind him, Deeks puts his hands on his knees and mutters, “What the hell was that?”

He slides down to the ground and feels  his body continue to shake. What the hell just happened? What did I just do?

[whumperofworlds]

So I have a very old card for BTHB that I haven't finished. I had it since 2020. It's on my main that I moved it to here.

My brain is making me want to do another card. 😫 Like let me finish this 4 year old card first before I do it!!!

[whumpshots]

Fàilte - A whumpy Masterlist

Thank ye for visiting my wee little whump blog! I gathered the majority of my writing in this master post, so if ye are interested in reading some whumpy shite, feel free to open the list under the cut!

The lists include: Whump Snippet Saturday, Whump ABC, BTHB, and Whumptober(s)!

Whump Snippet Saturday - weekly to bi-weekly snippets of writing

Whump ABC I - polls posted on Wednesdays

Whump ABC II - writings posted on Mondays

Bad Things Happen Bingo - asks are always welcome!

Whumptober 2023 - completionist

Whumptober 2022 - completionist

Whumptober 2021 - completionist

Whumptober 2020 - participant

Whumptober 2019 - completionist

Whumptober 2018 - participant

[ao3feed-spinaraki]

"Stop Hogging The Blankets!"

by BuffPuffLyrick

In the middle of the night, Shigaraki curls the comforter around himself, leaving Spinner to wake up shivering. ~~~ Day VII of Flufftober 2020 BTHB: Bundled Up In Blankets Spinaraki Week 2020:: Day IV: Late Nights

Words: 801, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko

Relationships: Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko

Additional Tags: Spinaraki Week 2020, Spinaraki Week, Fluff, Cuddling, confessions of feelings, slight angst, Much Comfort, all fluff, a single sex joke is made, Shigaraki is sure, but - Freeform, Spinner is insecure

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/26872858

[whump-me]

Hello again, whump community!

I’ve been gone for... um... a while. (Aside from occasionally popping in to reblog a few things.) But I’m hoping I’m back now, and with a new URL (I was a-whump-blog).

I apologize for all the BTHB requests I never answered (honestly, guilt over not getting those finished was half the reason I stayed away for so long). I also write fiction as my actual job—or at least I’m trying to make it profitable enough to be an actual job—and got overwhelmed trying to keep up with both. And then there was 2020, and... yeah.

But I’m back now, hopefully for the long term, and even writing whump again! Like... a lot of it. My soul has been starved of character suffering for too long. (Speaking of which, would anyone be interested in excerpts from a long and whumpy project?...)

If you didn’t know me before, nice to meet you! I’m Zee. They/them pronouns, please. I don’t write fanfic—I’m fundamentally incapable of writing other people’s characters/worlds—but I write a lot of original stuff. The way to my heart is through ice-cold whumpers, defiant/stoic/too-noble-for-their-own-good whumpees, interrogations!!, mind-breaking, and really good death scenes. Comfort? What’s that?

It’s good to be back.

[mosswolf]

Kidnapping for the bthb with Skyjacks + the pcs?

here you go, anon! 1.5k, travis & jonnit & gable, cw for big evil prisons a la the one in the flashback eps! 

(send me bad things happen prompts here!!)

As much as he hates to admit it, this is probably Travis’s fault. Jonnit’s a smart kid, sure, and more perceptive than most— hah— but it’s Travis who has the experience, and the experience with this specifically. He should be more than skilled at spotting and avoiding church officials with something to prove by now. 

But here he is, in the back of a cart, a bag over his head and a terrified fifteen year old breathing fast by his side. The sun had only set less than an hour ago, that was why he’d been sent into town with Jonnit to scout out a place for the crew to stay in the first place. So, roughly eleven hours before he was conveniently the wrong shape for handcuffs. 

That’ll probably be fine, right? He’s survived worse. He tries very hard not to think about how much the Church would love to get their hands on Jonnit. 

The cart is full of people, all murmuring quietly to themselves or each other, so it isn’t too hard to lean in the vague direction of Jonnit’s ear and whisper “Wouldn’t be a Matagot party unless someone gets arrested.” 

“It was a shopping trip, Travis!” Jonnit responds, muffled through the bag on his head. Travis isn’t sure why the Church doesn’t want them seeing where they’re going. Maybe it’s something more serious than the normal town lock-up. 

Travis shrugs before realising that Jonnit can’t see him. “I like to multitask.” 

“No you don’t. You don’t even like to task, singular.” 

“Well, what can I say?” Travis begins, “I’m just—” 

The cart rattles to a halt, and Travis stops, despite himself. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine! 

When the back is wrenched open and someone grabs him and wrenches him away, he can hear the anxiety in his own voice when he says “Jonnit!” 

“Hey, stop it!” Jonnit says, from somewhere to Travis’s right, as they’re marched across cobblestones. “I can walk myself!” 

Eleven hours, they can handle that. 

— 

“Ouch,” Travis says, less than half an hour later. They’d had the bags pulled off them once they’d got inside, and the building is huge and old, old stone. It’s not the worst prison Travis has ever been in, but it’s not— it’s not good. The air has the telltale smell of blood. The cells are far enough apart that you can barely hear the screams, but they’re definitely still there. And he’s broken enough bones to know that his leg is definitely broken. 

The small mercy had been that they hadn’t tried to separate him and Jonnit. They’d tossed them into the same small, windowless cell roughly, roughly enough to jostle Jonnit’s bandana out of place. 

The man’s eyes had widened. “What the fuck?” he’d said, gripping his spear tighter. 

“Uh oh,” Jonnit had said, stepping backwards, and Travis had stuck his leg out to trip the man as he tried to follow. It was a stupid, panic driven response, a trick that he plays on Gable more rather than a genuine attack, but it had worked and the man had fallen, hard. 

When he’d got up, there was a look of murderous rage on the man’s face that Travis was so very familiar with. But he still hadn’t been able to move fast enough to avoid the man cracking his spear down on Travis’s leg, and he’d crumpled immediately. 

If he’s being honest, Travis doesn’t really remember what had happened next. But he knows that now the man is gone, the cell is locked, and Jonnit is kneeling anxiously by his side. 

“Are you okay, man?” Jonnit’s saying, “He hit you super hard.” 

“Yep,” Travis manages. “He sure did.” He gestures at Jonnit to help him sit up against the wall. “Well, you know what I always say…” 

“Not a Matagot party unless someone gets their leg broken?” 

“You know it.” 

Jonnit just shakes his head, and reties his bandana. Then he flops beside Travis with the leggy awkwardness of teenagers that Travis is so glad he outgrew over two hundred years ago. “What are we gonna do?” he says. 

“We’re gonna wait till I change in the morning, then we’re gonna escape,” Travis says, wearily. 

“Do you really think we have that long?” Jonnit says. “Before they…” 

“Before they…?” 

Jonnit gives him a look. “C’mon, this is a Church of the Slain God prison and we’re… you know, weird.”

“Speak for yourself,” Travis says, but Jonnit’s right and he knows it. “It’ll be fine. Gable knows where we went.” He’s grasping at the one other straw that isn’t his ten and a half hours distant transformation. Gable will, probably, maybe, realise that they’re late returning and something must be wrong. 

“Yeah. Yeah!” Jonnit says, perking up a little. “They’ll bring the crew and it’ll probably be really cool!” 

“And maybe they’ll even trip over their own feet coming in,” Travis says. “That’d be funny.” 

Jonnit shakes his head at him, and that’s good, because while he’s frustrated he’s not scared. And the only thing worse than getting captured by the Church with a magic kid would be getting captured with a scared magic kid. 

— 

Travis is good at pain. That’s like, his whole deal. But by the time the sound of distant shouting echoes into their cell, he is well and truly tired of his leg hurting. 

“Oh, good, that sounds like Gable,” he says. “Better late than never.” 

“Can you walk?” Jonnit asks him. 

Travis tries, experimentally, and hisses through his teeth. “I would rather not.”

“Here,” Jonnit says, offering his arm, and together they hobble over to the door. Jonnit looks at him judgmentally when he produces lockpicks from his sleeve and proceeds to pick the lock. 

“Could you have done that this whole time?” he asks. 

“Well, yes, but we couldn’t have gotten past the guards,” Travis says, tugging the door open. “And I didn’t want to draw more attention to us than we already have.” 

Now they’re out in the corridor, it’s easy to follow the sounds of chaos. The building is grimy and unpleasant. Travis doesn’t look too hard into any of the cells they pass, or at the stains on the floor. He’s starting to think this place is worse than he’d initially thought. Jonnit is uncharacteristically quiet at his side. 

They come out to a huge, central room, and Travis hears Jonnit gasp. There are soldiers and guards everywhere, some in Church regalia and some clearly red feathers— but mostly, they’re all just dead. The air smells of smoke, and Gable’s standing in the centre of the chaos, sword held high and wreathed in fire. Their eyes are deep, pure black. 

Travis just sighs. “Come on, Jonnit,” he says, and together they hobble across the room. The few people left alive make noises of shock and terror as Travis reaches over and grabs Gable’s sleeve. 

They don’t respond, eyes darting between the people who are still scrambling away and muttering, so Travis tugs their sleeve. “Come on,” he says. “Time to go.” 

“Are you insane?” some brave soul blurts, shuffling out of the room as they speak. “That— that thing killed everyone in here!” 

Travis rolls his eyes, and pulls harder on their sleeve. “We’re going,” he says, taking hold of their wrist firmly with one hand and readjusting his grip of Jonnit’s shoulders with the other. 

“Yeah,” Jonnit agrees, and together they lead Gable back through the prison complex and out into the courtyard. There doesn’t appear to be anyone left to stop them. 

— 

It’s dark outside, dark and cold. They can’t go back to the ship, not with Travis’s leg and Gable’s… whole situation. Jonnit’s shivering already, and trying to pretend that he isn’t. 

Travis does the only thing he can think to do, and leads them towards the forest. 

They’re barely out of sight of the town when the shouting starts, loud enough to be audible even from this distance. 

“I think they’ve found out about…” Jonnit says, trailing off. He gives a worried look to Gable, who still doesn’t seem aware of them, eyes snapping to movement on the horizon. 

“This isn’t going to work,” Travis says, glancing down at his leg. They’re going too slowly. “Gable, you need to carry me.” 

He thinks, for a long moment, that they’re too out of it to hear him. But then they blink, and with surprising gentleness, scoop him up. 

“Okay!” he says, from their arms. “Jonnit, you good?” 

“Yeah,” he says, but there’s a waver in his voice. Gable looks down at him, and then kneels on one knee so he can climb on their shoulders.

“Can you carry both of us?” Jonnit asks. 

“I wouldn’t question them,” Travis advises, nodding back at the town. There are lights illuminating the sky orange now, like people are being roused from their beds. Travis knows the early signs of an impending witch hunt only too well. They head for the treeline. 

It’s darker still under the trees. It’s a pine forest, thick and heavy, Gable’s feet sinking into the soft ground every time they take a step. Travis closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths, listening intently. There isn’t a sound. He takes that as a good sign. 

The Queen may be unpredictable, but she keeps her word. No one will follow them into the woods. 

They’ll be fine.

[makeitbluue]

Hello hello everyone!!! I wrote a bthb prompt fill for @queenangst! They requested Hagakure and falling through the ice!! So! I hope everyone enjoys!!!

@badthingshappenbingo

[bloodytimelady]

hi! sorry if i this is stalker ish. I saw an ask of yours from a prompt blog asking for advice on a fic and i got interested, i was wondering if you had an ao3 where you shared your writing? sorry if not! thanks for reading :D

Hi, don't worry, it's not stalkerish at all. I'd been meaning to talk about it anyway so I'm glad you asked!

I don't have AO3 for now (I mean, I do but I haven't posted anything), but I've gotten my hands on a BTHB card and on the list of whumptober prompts and I was thinking about taking part in both of the challenges and then use NaNoWriMo to edit/translate whatever comes out and eventually post it on here and on AO3.

I've always written for myself so most of my fics are self-indulgent or feature an OC, and I don't know if you'd be interested in reading them, but I want to try posting something and see the reaction it gets.

If you're referring to the BNHA fic, though, that may take some more time as it is basically an AU with my OC, and there will be more to it than just the whumpy bits, so I might post it bit by bit.

In any case, these are my intentions. If I'm able to fulfill them, I will surely post the link to my account on here and maybe some of the fics too and I'd be thrilled if you checked them out!

[breannacasey]

You know what's funny? That by the end of this month, I will have posted 15 fics this year and will still be under the word count I had at the same time last year when I had posted just one fic.

[hermitreunited]

🎉🎉Happy Anniversary to me!! 🎉🎉A year ago today, I posted my fic tua fic, which started off a really productive creative year, and helped me make a bunch of super amazing friends. I wanted to post a new fic today in celebration, but I just don’t have anything ready for that yet (it was a really productive year, by which I mean 5 fics. I am quite a slow writer).

BUT I thought I could still share a bit from a multichapter fic I am currently working on - my stab at a prospective season 2 fic, that I’ve been referring to as the 1963 fic because it takes place then, after they hop back in time at the end of season 1.

Hopefully I can get it written before an actual season 2 comes along and makes the whole thing moot, but for now, here’s a piece from the first chapter, wherein 23-year-old Dave is working as a rookie bartender when two weird looking guys come into the bar late at night. One is covered in knives and the other is wearing dog tags and his big green eyes are looking at Dave like he really does think that this drink will change his life...

It flows off his tongue so easily. Calling this other man ‘dear.’ It makes Dave notice how the collar of the shirt underneath Klaus’ vest swoops so low, so revealing. His loose posture, the thick dark lines bringing out his eyes. The spark shining in those eyes when they slip slowly from the whiskey swirling in his glass up to meet Dave’s gaze.

Dave flushes. Suddenly his palms are sweaty and his mouth is dry. He grabs a towel to wipe down the already clean counter, needing it more as a prop than anything else.

Klaus takes another sip. He takes an expectant inhale, but hesitates, just blows the air out in a sigh. The Penguins are doing a poor job of filling up the otherwise empty bar.

A good bartender is a good listener, can team up with the alcohol to get a heavy story out of a burdened man and send him on his way lighter than before. But Dave hasn’t even been here for four whole months. He’s not that good.

Klaus picks up the slack. “Nice fellow like you, probably you’ve got a girlfriend.”

Dave nods. “Annie.”

Klaus nods too, like he was expecting this. “But you’re planning to propose to her soon.”

Yes. Dave doesn’t know how something like that can be obvious to an outside observer. There’s no rings, no actual proposals have happened yet. But it’s true, what Klaus is saying.

“That’s what you do when the girl you took to prom stays with your sorry ass for this long, right?” he says.

Klaus looks thoughtful. “You’ve really got to be sure that it’s the right thing to do, when you do that.” His gaze cuts to Dave, much more piercing and clear-eyed than he’s used to seeing in this place.

No one could accuse Dave of not devoting enough thought to popping this particular question. Most of his classmates didn’t wait near as long as this to get married, actually. A couple of the guys from marching band are fathers already.

Annie is nice. She’s lovely. She’s got a beautiful singing voice, and she’s kind to everyone. Kind enough to go to prom with Dave, and to stay waiting for him for this long. There’s being a gentleman, and then there’s whatever Dave is doing.

What he’s doing is nothing. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve the credit he gets for being ‘such a respectful young man,’ since it’s not like he is responsibly overcoming his baser desires. He just hasn’t felt like that about Annie. Not yet. So he hasn’t proposed yet, either.

He knows he’s supposed to - he’s known that, for a while, but it’s been weighing on his mind even more lately. Since his dad’s accident. Life is short, and his mom could really use some good news now, and Annie is nice, and somewhere buried in all of that must be the reason why it’s the right thing to do.

He really is the worst bartender. This conversation is all turned around. He tries to get things back on track. Be conventional. “Do you have a girlfriend, then?” His voice comes out sounding odd, for some reason Dave can’t place.

He’d be shocked if this guy was single. Not with a smile like that.

“No, I’m - ” Klaus’ voice is strangled and strange, too. “I was close with someone. But he - we couldn’t make it work.” He’s looking at Dave like he’s wishing for an answer, but it’s not even a question. Then he blinks the suspended moment away, and grumbles off to his side, “I get that.”

Dave didn’t miss the pronoun. He shouldn’t focus on it, Klaus was quick to correct it. But he can’t stop hearing it. There’s only the three of them in whole bar, but something about the close weight of the air makes it seem like they are enclosed in the same small space.

“She made me want to be a better person,” Diego says into his empty glass, “because she was just a good person. Now I’ll never see her again.”

Klaus smiles wryly. “You never know, it’s 1963. Depends how long you stay alive.”

[potterandpromises]

Trying to avoid real life like if I start tomorrow I can have all my bingo squares and prompts finished by Christmas

[whumpsday]

Can vampires intake blood though injection?

sure, why not!

if you want some of that content, it's featured prominently in chapter 8 of @whumping-every-day 's ash & callum! it's an unfinished series though (blog hasn't updated since 2020)

this specific bthb piece for that series actually heavily inspired the kane's captivity arc of my series! it is absolutely one of the most brutal whump pieces i have ever read in my life.

[you-go-kaboom-i-go-kaboom]

End of the Year Creative Wrap-Up

Thank you very much @holbytlanna for tagging me!! <3

1) What is your favorite thing you created? Which work are you the proudest of?

My favorite thing I did this year never got posted because it’s goofy, but basically Mac falls down a well and breaks his leg while trying to help a young girl out. I think I’m probably proudest of Arowana + Honeymoon + Trafficking Ring because I remember putting a lot of work into that one.

2) Is there anything else you are proud of that you achieved this year?

I finished NaNo successfully for the first time ever. My record in past years was somewhere around 25k, but this year I wrote 90k+ words (most of it unfinished/unposted fics)

3) Did you explore anything new this year? (A new way to be creative, a trope you didn't write before or an idea you hadn't thought of earlier, etc.)

I did a lot of stuff for myself this year, which surprised me. I have a lot of fics that I finished and then just never posted mostly because they’re really goofy or self-indulgent. Maybe I’ll work up the nerve to post them, but for now I’m happy keeping them to myself.

4) Which work gave you the most difficulty? What was your biggest creative challenge this year?

Bad things happen bingo. I think I only finished two of the prompts from my card this year. I started two of the others, but I haven’t finished either of those yet. Those prompts and I have gone ten rounds at least, and we’re still fighting 😂

5) Which work brought you the most joy?

All of comfortember made me very happy. I had taken a short break from writing prior to the event and decided to return and write whatever nonsense I wanted. (And I swear I’ll get to responding to the kind feedback I received, I’m just shy as hell about responding to that stuff 🙈)

6) Which of your works do you think people should check out?

Whatever floats your boat, man, most of them are whump or h/c with found family throughout. My ao3 is Sapless_Tree

7) Do you have creative plans for next year? Is there anything exciting you are currently working on?

I have so so so many wips right now. I’m only actively working on twelve of them at the moment, but there are plenty others in rotation for when my motivation wanes. Currently, I’m very excited about two in particular: my bthb fill for the prompt “missing and presumed dead” and a fic about the season one finale.

8) Lastly, any words of wisdom or anything else you would like to share?

Save all your scraped stuff somewhere. That paragraph you loved but couldn’t keep? That fic you only wrote 100 words of and then gave up on? That random idea you had at two in the morning and jotted down? Save that, you can use it later. I have a personal discord for myself where I keep and organize those things along with random excerpts of dialogue I didn’t use, concepts I tossed, and brainstorm sessions. That stuff seriously comes in handy if you get stuck on a scene (I’m still cannibalizing scrapped bits from whumptober 2020 for stuff haha)

I’m gonna tag @rosieblogstuff @whumpflumpthump and like anyone else who sees this and wants to do it can say I tagged them, I love seeing this kind of stuff :)

[psychic-timetraveler]

WIP Title Tag

Oh gosh, so @avrablake I have too many. Like. Way too many. One shots, drabbles, unfinished drafts 1-3, it’s baaaaaad. but like, okay haha

No context, lets go;

Action Movie

dying college loser

Sick Boi

taren’s first kill

Taren’s new friendos

bthb

Changes

Changes rewrite ‘17

Changes rewrite ‘18

repeat

christmas date

concert

curious

Gettysburg Haunting Nonsense

Halloween Costumes

Heart Surgery

Hidden Talents

Hometown Blues

Nightmare Asylum Thing

Parents

Twins

Untitled

Untitled copy

Wedding

Brotherly Quest

Demons Rewrite 2020

KatDen Parents

Nanowrimo 19

demon shane

more human  holden

ghosties

time traveler novel

time traveler rewrite ‘19

time traveler rewrite 2020

i really don’t want to list ALL of the aus and one shots for my time travelers because OOOOOOF it’s a lot

nano21

wizards!

okay i dropped off and got tired when i hit the time travelers. there’s at least 20 in that folder. at least. it’s yeah... real bad.

I tag whoever wants to do this haha