#bthbingo

[skyhighchibi]

crackfic where i ask for a bingo card from the bad things happen bingo and then write all of them happening to oersted in a single fic. and its just wangst the whole way down

(alternate for c!primer mutuals: ctommy)

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 26th-March 3rd 2024

8 days!!!!! Only 8 days left!!!! Until then enjoy these fics!!

Complete

doin' something unholy by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (PWP, TikTok, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit): Eddie makes a tiktok account so he can monitor Chris' activity on the app, and he stumbles across Buck’s profile. It’s a lot of silly trends, a couple with Chris (previously Eddie approved), but when he scrolls to the newest video it’s one of those transition thirst traps and oh yeah, Eddie’s been sucked in, hard.

it’s the tapping on the kitchen’s floor by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (Friends to Fiances | 1K | General): Eddie takes a shortcut to 'engaged' thanks to some stress and little bit of pining.

This Is No Hallmark Movie by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (Hurt Buck, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Buck's impromptu trip to the ICU has Eddie crash-landing into the realization that he's deeply, madly in love with his best friend.

You Are The One by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie finds a drawing of Christopher's from school that sends his feelings careening off a cliff

cause you make life easy by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (PWP, First Time | 2K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck are in love, and it’s so, so easy.

got love-struck, went straight to my head by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Future Fic, Established Buddie, Amnesia | 17K | Teen): The morning of their wedding day, Buck wakes up with amnesia.

too many heartbeats for one ribcage by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 8K | Mature): Eddie's not queer.

Baby, I'm Never Gonna Leave You by I_still_dont_understand_13 (BTHBingo: Distress Call, Post-S6 | 12K | Mature): "Um... You remember that bracelet I bought Taylor?" Buck asked. Unfortunately, Eddie did. That Christmas was memorable... for all the wrong reasons. "Yeah. Why?" "It's been set off," he said, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

🔥 Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): "I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie? You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

🔥 I'm comin' back, don't let me go by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Post-S6, Angst | 7K | General): Buck's post-lightning breakdown takes him on a drive through the country, fighting not to give into his dark thoughts - a phone call from Eddie might be all he needs to lead him back home.

We Were Never Meant To Be Someone's Secret by DeadlyChildArtemis / @aroeddiediaz (Madney Wedding, Secret Relationship | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie have been trying to keep their new relationship secret until after Maddie and Chimney's wedding, but strange events keep conspiring to expose them before they're ready. The final straw is when they discover their hotel room at the venue only has one bed...

he speaks the languages of love by glorious_spoon (PWP, Established Buddie, Phone Sex | 4K | Explicit): "Buck. It's been almost two weeks since I've been able to get my hands on you. I'm going out of my mind. Yeah, I want you to tell me how you thought about bending me over the weight bench when I critiqued your gym selfies, or whatever." Or: while Eddie is out of town, he and Buck revisit an old fantasy of Buck's.

you were never meant to carry it on your own by artificalsirens/ @fortheloveofbuddie (Established Buddie, Hurt Buck, Smut | 5K | Explicit): During sex, Buck has a bad chronic pain flare up but wants to continue. Eddie stops him and takes care of him.

🔥 when you know, you know by asteriasera/ @asteriasera (Post-S6, Friends To Fiances | 11K | General): “How did you know you and Karen were ready to get married?” Hen blinks, clearly taken aback by the question. “I didn’t know you and Natalia were so serious.” “We’re not,” he blurts out, face red. “I’m not– I don’t even have a ring, and we haven’t really talked about it, but I was just curious. I mean, you should know since you two got married like, twice, right?” “That’s true.” Hen hums, then huffs out a laugh just the right amount of soft for this sweet pre-dawn moment. “As cheesy as it sounds, I guess that when you know, you know.” OR: After eight months of dating, Natalia begins dropping hints for their future together and Buck begins to question if this is what he really wants. One day later, a proposal is made in a kitchen over tiramisu

i'm thinking we should cross the line by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (Canon Divergent, Post-S2, Not Firefighter Buck | 12K | Teen): Following the ladder truck bombing, Buck can't return to firefighting, having to find new passions while maintaining his bonds with the 118. Enter Eddie Diaz, his replacement, and May's scheming takes hold. But that's fine; two can play that game.

i found love where it wasn't supposed to be by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (Season 2, Buck&Bobby | 12K | Teen): It’s not until the earthquake that Eddie figures it out. He’d be the same if Chris was there; probably a little more overbearing, but Chris is only seven, so he figures that’d be why. But it makes sense, how focused on Buck that Nash is right then, the similar frantic energy that Buck’s got focusing on the Captain. He’s a little surprised that the LAFD allow a father and son pair to work together OR: Eddie makes some assumptions when he joins the 118, he'd like the record to show he's not entirely wrong.

we can find shelter and peace by chromatophorica / @chromatophorica (Post-S2, 3K | Teen): Following Eddie's graduation from probie to firefighter, the gang talk about their graduations... Until they get to Buck.

like the peel clings to the pomegranate by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Post-S6E10: In A Flash, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Or, Buck recovers and doesn't quite realize what he means to others.

hey now, hey now by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Canon Divergent, Post-S5E10: Wrapped In Red | 10K | Teen): Or, after returning to the 118, Eddie becomes a full-time paramedic and Ravi becomes Buck's partner. Eddie absolutely doesn't feel anything about that, not at all.

happy at home by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Post-S5, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Or, the one where Eddie sees Buck with a small kitten, realizes he’s in love, and spontaneously combusts, but not necessarily in that order.

we made it (knew that we would be alright) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7 Spec, Buck&Maddie | <1K | General): Maddie asks Buck to walk her down the aisle.

this lovesick thing by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): or, buck is buck: best friend, klutz, star of eddie’s every lovesick daydream. which is to say, things are the same, except maybe what eddie’s willing to ask for

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 52/54 | 95K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

50. Happy Holidays to the Clown Car (Christmas | Teen) 51. Maybe We're All Sluts Here (PWP | Explicit)

My Worried Mind That You Quiet by giselleslash (Christopher POV, Getting Together | 3K | General): or, Buck and Eddie through Christopher's eyes.

send a flare up in the dark (and i'll come find you) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S6, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Buck and Natalia are hanging out at a bar, with Natalia watching in amusement as Buck pines. She gets distracted when Lucy shows up so Buck starts drunk texting Eddie and eventually Eddie comes to get Buck, but not before Buck accidentally confesses his feelings not realizing that Eddie is there. Did Buck just fuck up or do they both get everything they've ever wanted?

you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad by bellabrady (Post-S6, Getting Together | 5K | Not Rated): Or: Eddie is annoyed with Buck for being so very kissable but his drunk self isn't the best at phrasing things.

what to do when evan buckley breaks into your house at 3:17 in the morning by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): After a night out drinking with Maddie, Buck (kind of) breaks in to Eddie’s house.

Orange Peels & Coffee by bibuckleyforever/ @bibuckleyforever (Post-S6, Getting Together | 2K | General): Eddie finds out about the Orange Peel Theory and it leads to some important realizations.

some of it's just transcendental by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Accidental Kissing, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Buck smiles as Eddie leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips, and Buck feels himself grinning further against his mouth and kissing back before Eddie pulls away, too soon and with that same soft smile on his lips. He eases the bags fully out of Buck’s arms and turns to head into the kitchen, and Buck watches him go with such a fond smile that he feels like he’s going to explode. And then he freezes and stares at Eddie’s retreating form, his heart constricting in his chest as his brain struggles to catch up with the events of the last twenty seconds. Because kissing? Is not something they have ever done before.

that green light, i want it by asteriasera / @asteriasera (Post-S6, One Night Stand, Getting Together | 11K | Mature): Buck and Eddie hook up after Maddie and Chim’s wedding, then spend an inordinate amount of time not talking about what it means until the universe decides to intervene.

WIP

i got a bad desire, i'm on fire by diazbegins/ @evanbegins (PWP, Pet Play | 1/2 | 8K | Explicit): Or: Eddie finds that he wants Buck to treat him like a kitty. Buck can make that work.

if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 6/11 | 22K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 120/? | 362K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 4/18 | 25K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 7/9 | 51K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

[mellaithwen]

Ooh what inspired your pneumonia fic? I’m excited for that one!

Well it’s in the lead, anon! so if it wins I’ll have some words for you by tomorrow ;)

I have two squares on my BTHBingo card (fevers and vomiting) and I wanted to try and avoid overlap in terms of symptoms and story etc for each, and then when I was doing research around ventilator use for my other 6.11 fics, I came across the risks of patients developing ventilator-associated-pneumonia, and started writing.

So that’s what Buck will get after waking up, but prior to being discharged after the lightning strike…. 👀

[memoryoflife]

for the fanfic trope thing: dubious morality, body horror and came back wrong :)

Give me a fanfiction trope and I’ll grade it

"dubious morality" trope rating: A

listen... the fact that i had an entire subcategory of ocs in the past dubbed "dubiously blonde" is testament enough. oh my GOD. grey characters are my SHIT. dubious morality is a fucking a+, it's so BORING for it to be completely black and white! give me characters with complexity and dimensions, who do fucked up shit for fucked up or justified reasons! on the subject of dubious morality, i wind up thinking about the "villains" series by v.e. schwab — the vast majority of characters are extremely grey, having their own goals and motivations that are justified to them. and it makes it SUCH a wild fucking ride to get through that book. uh i can';t even say much else i jsut love it. I KNOW THIS IS A FANFIC TROPE GAME BUT I CAN'T THINK OF FANFIC EXAMPLES RN MY BRAIN IS FRIED IM SO SORRY

"body horror" trope rating: B

i! do like body horror a ton! but it's not something i usually go out of the way to get. but god, it slaps when done right. i'm a bitch ass pussy so i actually really like it in fanfic because if you SHOW me body horror in a visual medium, i scream and writhe and cry and die :') not much else to say here except i should probably give it a shot and write some someday!

"came back wrong" trope rating: A

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MAN OKAY i wish i didn't scrap came back wrong off my bthbingo because MAN. MAN. IT'S JUST!! the absolute HORROR of knowing someone for who they were, only for them to come back as not someone, but something else... i can't speak of fanfics for this but i've thrown around ideas with a friend in discord dms (blows a kiss @ lettie) about the trope and it's just. so fucking good. the absolute agony, especially if the person who brought the other character back did it because they couldn't comprehend their passing, couldn't let them go!! (excellent fodder w lilia and silver ngl)

SO YEAH A GRADE A GRADE FUCKING EXCELLENT TROPE

[burtlederp]

BTHBingo Card Pt. 1

Writing Blurb 9! It’s finally here! Sorry about the wait. Introducing our new boy, James! He’s not a box boy, he’s from another world that still has slaves. We might see some more of him, we might now. Who knows! Anyways, this also counts as my first BTHBingo tile!! Only took me, what... A month to get started? Yeah. Well, better late than never!

Outlined means it’s been requested, colored in means it’s been done. Masterlist. @badthingshappenbingo​

---

It was hot. Blistering, even. The air was thick with humidity, the moisture heated to boiling by the sun. Cicadas trilled, some determined butterflies fluttered over the field, but most life had seemingly taken shelter from the direct light. No birds were flying, nor singing, no life in sight. 

Well, there was a man. 

The man's name was James, and he was a slave to a master who had been absent for a week. The master of the house was his newest. His old master had died in his sleep, and all his slaves sold as swiftly as his property. James did not know his new master, Master Theobold, very well: he had been around for a day before leaving. For what reason, James did not know. He was a slave, he wasn’t privy to such information, his old master had made him learn that through a whip. But Master Theobold had left a ‘to-do’ list for the three slaves he owned. Though he had included no deadline, said nothing about getting it done before he returned, James assumed his master expected it to be done by the time he got back. It was a little frustrating to see the other two slaves did not feel the same.

The list had been long, and the week not long enough for it. While Nancy and Hearthom lounged about inside the house, escaping the heat, doing nothing, James was out here in the field, working. He had been the only one working for the past few days, and nights. He had fed the livestock every morning and every evening, bringing in the animals as dark came and letting them out to pasture when the sun rose. He had done the laundry, washed the outsides of all the windows on the house, painted the fence, mucked the barn stalls, tended to the gardens, and many more items that had been on that list his master left out on the counter in the kitchen. He had not read it, he couldn’t read, but Nancy could, and she read it to him whenever he needed. He had not slept or eaten in days, too busy to do so, and could not remember the last time he had had a drink of water. He wanted one, very badly, now. But the thought of resting, of not getting all the list finished, and being punished for it, terrified him. The old wounds on his back often still hurt him when he moved a certain way, reminders of the times he hadn’t finished his tasks in the time provided. The pain just made him work harder. 

He was out in the field south of the house, beginning the tiring job of prepping it for the next growing season. It had been newly purchased after being left alone a long time. It was a meadow now, with tall grasses and wildflowers and all manner of weeds, all with roots that had burrowed deep into the earth. James punched the shovel into the dirt, overturning a clod of dirt, and did so over and over and over again. It did not always come easily. Often he ran into rocks, into taproots, into thick bundles of roots, and he would have to set down the shovel and get down on his hands and knees, attempting to dislodge the obstruction. Flies and gnats, the only other creatures besides the butterflies out here, pestered him incessantly, but he steeled himself to ignore them. They only slowed him down. He had worked harder jobs before, lifted heavier things, ran further distances, swung an axe more times than he used the shovel, but in the heat, he could not compare this task to anything. 

His back was already sunburnt, he knew that well enough. It had been burned ever since the first row of upturned dirt across the field, and had steadily gotten worse. His sweat stung, dripping into his eyes, down his burnt back, into old wounds not quite healed over, and he was thankful it had ceased; he no longer was sweating. He was so hot. He was tired. His arms ached and shook, and every time he raised the shovel, it became harder. His knees were weak, like at any second they threatened to buckle. He was so, so tired. He wanted to lie down and fall asleep until night fell. 

He paused, briefly, sticking the shovel into the dirt and leaning heavily on the staff. His breathing was ragged, his hair still slick with the not-quite evaporated sweat. His eyes stared down at the ground beneath his bare feet, all four of them. His vision was swimming, he was seeing double. He squeezed his eyes shut, wiping his brow on his arm, only to remember he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He only had robes from his waist down that he had long girded up. They were growing too hot as well, but he knew he could not shed them too; it would be indecent. Well, more indecent than he already was. 

He pushed off the shovel handle, going to continue his work, and nearly fell over. The push had been weak, but enough to throw him off balance. He staggered sideways, and managed to catch himself, wheezing, and went back to his place. He lifted the shovel, squinting as he looked down at the ground, trying to aim his next move. But it was so difficult. His vision was blurry, the sun so terribly bright. He felt sick, his head throbbing. He distantly was aware of his arms dropping the shovel, his own stance wavering slightly. Gods, he was so tired. So tired. He just wanted to sleep. So tired. So hot. He had to keep working, though.

But he didn’t. When he had gone to lift the shovel, his body had not obeyed. Instead, his eyes rolled up into his head, his knees buckled, and his limp, overheated body collapsed into the turned dirt. The shovel staff fell, and rested against his heaving sides, his body struggling to get enough air in, to cool him down. Alas, it could not be done while the sun still shone overhead.

~*~

CJ wiped sweat off his brow, cursing. He was glad he was finally going to be home again, but why did the weather have to welcome him back with such intense heat? He felt dirty, no, grimey, with sweat and dust from the road and from the bugs he continually slapped and just stopped wiping off. He probably looked a sight. But then again, how could someone not on a day like today? It was too hot to do anything.

If the slaves aren’t doing anything when I get home, I don’t blame them. He thought, panting hard. As he came over the rise, he raised his head, and sighed in relief. There was his house, the large plantation mansion, a half mile away, past the fields, not too far now. Spurred on by the desire to be home (and in shade), his pace quickened, ever so slightly. Yes, he’d only been gone a week, but it had been a very long week. He hated leaving home. 

So focused on his destination, he nearly missed the progress of the new field he’d bought a couple months prior. He stopped, doing a double-take. It had been a thick meadow before, not ideal for growing or grazing, and he had had plans to have the two male slaves start preparing it come Autumn. But here it was, a third of it upturned, bare dirt mingled with pale roots in the bright sun. But his attention didn’t dwell long on it. He was distracted by the limp form he saw lying on that dirt. 

CJ swallowed. He shrugged his bag off his shoulder and onto the road, running and jumping the old wooden fence, sprinting across the field and dropping to his knees beside the man. 

“Hey, hey! Are you alright?” CJ shouted, trying to shake the man awake, hands on his cheeks, but the man was unresponsive. CJ recognized him as the new slave he’d bought that past Sunday. What was his name? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter at the moment anyway. CJ tossed the shovel off of the slave, and scooped him up into his arms. The slave was a tall, thin, yet muscled fellow, and CJ was not tall, but he was strong. He tossed the poor man over his shoulder and moved quickly across the field, carefully over the fence, and towards the house, his bag forgotten in the lane. 

“NANCY! Draw a bath, a cold one!” CJ bellowed as he kicked open the front door. “Do it now!” Nancy had been reclined on a chair in the living room, springing to life as her master entered, half from her obedience and half from having the daylights scared out of her. 

“Y-yes master!” She answered, running as quickly as she could across the house to the master’s bathroom. 

“HEARTH! GET SOME ICE FROM THE FREEZER, NOW!” CJ shouted, raising his voice even louder, unsure of where the other slave was. 

“Yes master!” A voice called from the kitchen. CJ stormed towards his own bathroom, carrying his third slave, muttering curses. As he entered his bathroom, an inch of water was at the bottom of his enormous tub, the cold spigot spilling water. Nancy jumped as he entered. 

“I-It’s going to take a minute to fill sir!” She stuttered, eyes wide. 

“Fine, help me with him,” CJ growled, and Nancy quickly stepped forward, helping her master lower the slave off his shoulder and into the tub, the slaves' head lolling against the side. 

“Go get ice and whatever else is in the freezer!” CJ ordered, and Nancy hurried away. CJ bent over, pulling his knife from his pocket and cutting off the slave’s garments, tossing them to the side as Hearthom’s large figure came through the door. In his hands was a large bucket of crushed pieces of ice that CJ tore from his grip. He held it under the spigot until water overflowed the sides of it, and he promptly dumped it over the unconscious slave. There was no response, and CJ pressed two fingers to the man’s neck. There was a pulse. 

“More ice!” CJ demanded, turning to Hearthom, who flinched back, and rushed out the door, nearly running poor Nancy over, whose arms were full of bags of frozen food. She squeaked in alarm as Hearthom nimbly danced around her, just barely avoiding collision, then exited as Nancy darted into the bathroom.

“What was his name again?” CJ asked her sharply as he lowered the slave into the rising water level so his hair was getting wet. The water was turning brown already from the dirt and dust on his skin. 

“Wh-who? Hearth--?” Nancy looked at him, confused, placing the bags of food in the tub. 

“No, scab! I mean him!” CJ snapped, gesturing to the man whose forehead he was pressing a bag of frozen peas against. 

“O-oh, I--Um--James, his name was James,” Nancy answered quickly, swallowing, recoiling. 

“Help me, Nancy!” At her master’s harsh command, she leaned forward, holding the ice on the man’s neck while CJ arranged packs of frozen food around him. James’ breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, his lungs struggling, his pallor ashen. His tired, brown eyes fluttered, opening weakly. 

“Ah, good, good, there we go, there you are,” CJ’s voice was soft, reaching up and putting a gentle hand on the slave’s cheek. “Perfect, perfect. James, can you hear me? James?” Brown eyes, glazed and distant, flickered to his master’s face. His brow furrowed.

“M-master…?” His voice was a hoarse whisper, his mouth so dry, it felt like his tongue was swollen, getting in the way. Was… was he lying down? In water? Ice water?

“Yeah, it’s me bud. Keep your eyes open for me, will you?” CJ smiled. “Nancy, get a glass for the poor man.” Nancy nodded and scurried away as Hearthom returned with more ice. The two men gently shifted James so he was sitting up a bit more, and carefully emptied the second bucket of ice onto the abdomen of the slave. James groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut, fingers balling into a fist as his head lolled to the side.

“No, no James, come on, no sleeping, not yet,” CJ shifted James’ head, tipping up his chin so his tired brown eyes could meet his master’s green. Something cold pressed against James’ forehead and neck, feeling lovely. He was so hot, this felt so nice, but unreal. None of it felt real. It was all somehow warped to him, nothing still, every straight line wavering just slightly. He stared up at the ceiling, wishing it would stop bending in, falling slowly towards him.

Something pressed against his lips--water. He let it in, drinking greedily, too weak to lean forward or to raise his arms. They felt like lead, immovable. The hazy form of his master was in front of him, holding a glass to his mouth from which he drank.

“There we go, there we go, yeah, that’s good, good,” CJ said softly, not letting the delirious man drink too much too fast. When James emptied the glass, his master refilled it in the spigot as Nancy returned with more ice, Hearthom gone to do the same. The water level was high enough, and CJ turned it off.

“Hey, hey, James, can you look at me?” CJ asked, and slowly, James raised his eyes to rest on him, though he wasn’t sure if the slave was actually focusing on his figure or not. “Hey, James. We didn’t ever really get the chance to meet properly, did we? I’m CJ, I’m your new master.” James nodded slightly.

“I know,” James breathed. “I remember you.” 

“Well, that is a very good thing. I would be worried if you didn’t.” CJ smiled gently. James didn’t. “Hey, what were you doing out there in that field? You weren’t working, were you?” His heart sank as James nodded again.

“Yessir.” His voice was so soft, so quiet, CJ was glad he’d turned off the water or else he wouldn’t have heard him. “I… I was trying to… To finish the list you left… before you came back.” CJ’s eyebrows knit together. 

“The list…?” CJ puzzled, rubbing his chin. He remembered it, suddenly. The scrap of paper he had scribbled on before he’d left Sunday night, just trying to make sure and remember all the projects he wanted done eventually. Had James really thought he wanted all that done in a week? “Oh, the list.” CJ sighed. “How much did you get done?” He inquired haltingly. James closed his eyes, thinking, slowly raising an arm from the brown bathwater to hold a handful of ice to his neck.

“Half, I think… At least…. Five, six things… I’m sorry, Master.” James croaked, opening his eyes again, looking to his owner mournfully. 

“I, heh, about what?” CJ scoffed. “James, I…” He studied his slave. He had already known he looked terrible, but CJ noticed how tired the poor man looked. “James, when was the last time you actually slept?”

“It’s… been a few days.” James responded. “I was trying to finish the list.” CJ closed his eyes, scoffing, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“James, I am so sorry… That… That wasn’t a to do list. Well, it was, but not like… I didn’t… It wasn’t things I wanted to get done before I got back, it’s things I want to get done by next planting season.” CJ explained. Nancy entered with another bucket as James processed this. A soft, gentle smile turned the corners of his mouth. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

“Oh.” He said softly, barely audible. CJ held the back of his hand to James’ neck. Still warm, he motioned for Nancy to dump the ice.

“I think that’s enough, thanks Nancy,” he said. She nodded, and left. CJ turned back to the quiet man in the tub. His smile had faded.

“I’m sorry.” CJ thought he had heard wrong for a second, but no, James had whispered the apology.

“Whatever for?” CJ frowned.

“I… I assumed--”

“Oh, hush James.” CJ shook his head, smiling. “You… You have done nothing wrong. Foolish? Yeah, you went out and did hard labor in a hundred-degree heat, nearly the same percentage humidity! But… Disobedient? Wrong? Nah. Nah. You’re fine.” CJ patted James’ cheek and got to his feet. “You saved you and Hearthom’s asses a lotta work come spring. Now take it easy. Get clean, get some new clothes, and rest. You’ve earned it.” CJ smiled, standing at the door of the bathroom, James watching him tiredly. CJ knocked once on the doorframe and left the man alone in the tub with his thoughts. His very, very tired thoughts. 

Nancy, at some point, delivered a towel and a set of clean clothes, and left a bar of soap out for him. Eventually, James found the energy (from where, he had no idea) to get the soap and wash himself as best he could, continually jerking awake again. The water was cold, yes, but he was so fatigued. He was comfortable sitting down, with something to lean against, no hot sun beating down on him….

When he opened his eyes next, he wasn’t in the tub anymore. It was dark. He was clean, dressed, in a bed. Not his bed, no, not the comfortable pile of hay in the barn, but a bed. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, in a bed. Beds aren't for slaves, his old master spat in his mind. 

But James couldn't move. He was exhausted, and he had never felt anything so soft as the pillow beneath his head, the mattress under his body, the sheets, down comforter, and blanket on top of him. It was comfortably cold outside the covers. He didn't want to move. He closed his eyes, and let himself slip off to sleep.

[creepyqueer]

I'm doin' Bad Things Happen Bingo to get back into the swing of writing!  

If you’d like to request something, jump into my ask box with the prompt and the character(s) you want.  It has to be Voltron and the only pairings I’ll do is Klance, Sheith, or Punk, but any characters and platonic things are Free Game.  You can also be specific if you want or just leave it vague.  If you are specific, I do reserve the right to go my own way if I just Can’t.

The Collection So Far

[altschmerzes]

so!!! here is my bad things happen bingo card >:3c i am hype to Do Some Damage, please feel absolutely not only free but highly encouraged to send me a message/reply to this with Requests or Suggestions for squares.

[muggle-writes]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Losing a Bet

Requested by @dove-actually​

Most of this @badthingshappenbingo card inspires whumpy happenings, but this fic turned kinda shippy instead.

Content: Anxiety/facing fears, summer shenanigans when they’re all young and innocent, preslash Fremione

unbetaed and barely edited

read it on AO3

High Stakes and Higher Flying

“C'mon, Hermione, we need a sixth,” Ron pleaded. “Three on two isn't as fun.”

“Ron, no. You know I'd much rather watch,” Hermione insisted. She tried to step away, to sit down with her book and read, and keep her feet firmly on the ground.

“Please? you can play Keeper," he offered. “That way you won’t always be in the middle of the action.”

“I’d really rather not,” she insisted. Harry shifted his broom from one shoulder to the other, clearly impatient to be in the air, but also unwilling to leave her behind until everyone agreed that she was staying on the ground.

Ron was still on the ground, half mounted on his broom while holding a second out to her, but the other Weasleys had none of Harry’s hesitations. Ginny was far above everyone’s heads, testing how high she could climb around the edges of the clearing before Mrs. Weasley scolded her, and then diving, so steeply that just watching made Hermione's stomach clench, before climbing again, testing the limits. Although they were flying lower, Fred and George appeared to be trying to tackle each other off their brooms. Neither activity made joining in seem more appealing.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

George’s whoop of laughter interrupted their argument as he made a muddy crash landing. He popped up hardly a moment later, still laughing, before even his mother could worry about him being hurt. Meanwhile, Fred swooped down beside the cluster of almost-fourth-years, grinning triumphantly. “Ronnikins, I think it’s a lost cause,” he said, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “Hermione is scared of flying, but she’s not scared of crashing, she’s scared she won’t be the best.”

“That’s not true!” she protested, trying to quell the guilty flinch at his words. Yes, she was scared of flying and yes, she knew she wasn’t the best at it, but causation went the other way …right?

“Prove it,” Fred demanded, with a wicked glint in his eye.

“I…” Hermione hesitated. She wasn’t exactly one to back down from a challenge, but that mischievous expression made her certain that pranks would be involved, and she was barely willing to fly on a broom already.

“How about this.” Fred paused, and with a quick twist of his wrist, he was hovering ten feet higher, so Ron took the brunt of George’s revenge mud-attack.

Ron dropped both brooms in favor of tackling George back into the mud.

“I bet you,” Fred said from her other side, suddenly flipping over to hang upside down from his broom, holding on with only his knees, and easing his broom downward until his face was even with hers, “that I can ride my broom, upside down, like this, for longer than you can stay in the air riding normally.”

Well, if the prankster grin was going to interfere with Fred’s flying and not her own… “Fine,” she snapped. “What are the stakes?” There was no way he could keep his balance like that for more than a few minutes, especially if he started moving around. She could last on a broom for a few minutes.

Fred’s grin got even wider, though it was hard to tell exactly which grin that was – challenging? pleased? anticipatory? – with his face upside down and turning red. “When I win, you have to let me take you for a ride on my broom.”

“And when I win, everyone has to leave me alone to read when I want to, at least until we leave for the Quidditch World Cup,” she demanded, heart pounding already at the challenge and at the prospect of flying even as high as Fred was.

“Now come on, that’s not fair,” Fred chided. “You’re making a bet with me, you have to demand something from me, not from everyone else.”

Hermione scowled. “I want you…” what did she want? “When I win, you have to warn me before you cause any explosions, in your room or otherwise, for the rest of the summer.” The irregular, loud noises were at least as disruptive to her studying as her friends’ desires to hang out were, and the explosions didn’t have three years worth of fondness built up to encourage her to forgive them.

Fred didn’t even hesitate. “Done,” he agreed, offering his hand, and they managed an awkward handshake that would have worked much better had he been right side up. She was briefly concerned at how fast he agreed, despite how following through might force him to stop experimenting altogether, because she doubted the explosions were planned, but now they had shaken on it. It was too late to back down.

Harry helpfully picked up the broom that Ron had been trying to force into her arms. Hermione procrastinated by finding a safe, dry place to set her copy of The Magic of Theatre: What Muggles Don’t Know About the Bard, but all too quickly, she had no excuses. She accepted the broom from Harry, and swung a leg over it.

Harry mounted his own broom and kicked off confidently, as Hermione rose, wobbly, a foot and a half into the air. She didn’t have to look at her knuckles to know they were turning white, where she had the handle in a death grip, but also she was very deliberately not looking at her knuckles, since that would mean looking down past them at how far away the ground must be.

Harry stayed near her momentarily, but once she was high enough that couldn’t even imagine that she was close enough to the ground that she could stretch her toes and reach it, Harry pulled away and climbed rapidly, quickly getting drawn in to some sort of game of catch-the-apples with Ginny.

Fred, unfairly, kept pace with her, meaning his knees were a few feet above her head, and his face stayed level with hers.

Hermione kept an eye on the trees to judge her altitude, and she stopped rising when she was about even with the lowest apples on the biggest tree.

She came to an unsteady hover, and met Fred’s eyes with her best attempt at a challenging smirk, though it felt similarly unsteady.

Fred smirked right back, and leaned slightly, with the effect that he began circling her. He looked perfectly at ease despite how very red his face was from being upside down so long. Hermione tried to pivot, to continue looking at him, just in case he intended to prank her when her back was turned, but as she tried to turn, her broom jolted downward, sending her heart into her throat.

Ignoring how her hands were now noticeably trembling, and the whole broom with them, Hermione forced her broom back to its previous altitude. She tried to look over her shoulder at Fred, since turning wasn’t working, but that had the effect of her broom shooting upwards faster than she meant, not that she intended to move at all.

She managed to get her broom to stay level again, but she was starting to forget why she was in the air at all. Her vision narrowed in on her hands on her broom, and the ground much too far below. Even the trees around the edges of the clearing seemed to fade into the distance. She was up here to spite someone, but surely she didn’t need to be quite this high. She eased her broom into descending, a little faster than she meant, but feeling nearly in control, and crossed paths with Fred who was still upside down, and climbing at a much more controlled pace.

She couldn’t focus on the look on his face, though he quickly reversed course to follow her down. Why was the ground still so far away?

Except, suddenly, it wasn’t.

She tried to pull her broom level, but she was a tad late, and her feet bounced jarringly off the ground as she leveled out.

But from there it was relatively easy to put her feet down deliberately, if a bit more firmly than necessary. She swung her leg off the broom and found, when she tried to step away, that her knees were shaking too badly to hold her. She collapsed in an undignified heap, but quickly rolled herself upright, scooting backwards out of the clearing to be less in the way. Her back ran into a tree, and she wrapped her arms around her knees. She found herself taking quick, panting breaths, trying to get enough oxygen.

Still, solid ground under her butt was as reassuring as it would have been under her feet, if not more so.

As the adrenaline rush faded, and her head cleared, though her heart was still pounding, she remembered exactly why she had been in the air, and groaned, as Fred came to a perfectly controlled hover in front of her, at a more-than-respectful distance as though she were going to lash out like Crookshanks did when he was cornered.

Fred flipped himself back upright onto his broom almost effortlessly, before landing gently, beaming. “I do believe this means I’ve won the bet,” he said, as though she hadn’t already figured that out. He approached her slowly, watching with just a hint of concern in his eyes as she used the tree to pull herself upright. She had to lean heavily upon it because her knees still wouldn’t quite support her. One of her ankles was sore from her rough landing, but it didn’t feel sprained at least.

“Fair is fair, Hermione,” he said gently, in an encouraging and respectful tone completely at odds with his usual irreverence. “Can I take you for a ride now?”

Hermione got the surprising impression that if she said no, Fred wouldn’t force the issue. But even If she didn’t expect that saying no now would invite more pranks later, she was a Gryffindor, and they had made a bet. On her honor, she would follow through.

She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, but she looked determinedly at his freckled nose as she forced herself to nod.

Fred kept one hand on his broom, shuffling backwards and gesturing grandly with his other hand, clearly inviting her to mount in front of him. She left her own borrowed broom on the ground, next to the tree and stepped forward. As soon as her hand was no longer on the tree she was using for support, her knees were shaking badly again, but she could at least walk the four steps to Fred and his broom, and she didn’t collapse again.

She reluctantly mounted his broom, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, to grip the handle in front of them both.

“Trust me, Hermione?” he murmured into her ear, and she nodded, not quite able to speak. She grabbed the handle in another white-knuckled grip, just below his hands, before he could remind her to hold on.

He kicked off, gently, and they rose more slowly than either of them had during their bet. Hermione found her eyes drifting closed, trying to avoid realizing how far off the ground she was, but that turned out to be a bad decision, and the potential for being terrifyingly high had her eyes snapping open again. They weren’t; they were still well below the plane of Harry and Ginny (and Ron and George now too) playing whatever improvised game that involved throwing apples at each other. Some of the apples were rotten and exploded like water balloons when someone tried to catch them, which was inevitably followed with shouts and good-natured complaining.

She smiled fondly up at her friends. When the broom didn’t feel like a wild animal trying to throw her off, Hermione realized she didn’t hate flying quite as much. She still didn’t love it, but the usual panic, the need to be back on solid ground, wasn’t materializing this time.

Hermione leaned back into Fred’s firm chest, and suddenly realized how intimate a position this was. He was wrapped solidly around her, a pleasant warmth at her back, and she felt her face heating too. She was abruptly glad that her dark skin wouldn’t reveal a blush very easily.

Fred gave her an odd, hug-like squeeze with his shoulder, without affecting his grip on the broom. He must have felt her losing tension, because his mouth was at her ear again, breath tickling as he asked, “are you okay if we try something a little more exciting?”

She hesitated, then leaned back so they were cheek to cheek and hopefully he would hear her answer. “A little,” she conceded.

She felt, more than saw, his grin, as he adjusted his grip to comply. Fortunately, “a little more exciting” turned out to be them doing slow laps around the clearing, still gaining altitude at a snail’s pace, rather than going straight up at a similar speed.

Hermione felt herself relaxing further at the proof that Fred was completely in control, and he wouldn’t let her fall.

When they got high enough to join the others, Ron’s face did something odd when he spotted them, and George immediately started flying towards them, wearing his own mischievous smirk, but whatever look was on Fred’s face must have warned them both off. Ron scowled and turned away, and George, without hesitation, reversed course and dove after Harry who was chasing a trio of apples that Ginny had lobbed the opposite direction from the group.

Fred warned her before every new maneuver (including “can we startle Harry by rushing through his blind spot? I promise we won’t be close enough to touch”) and by the time Hermione’s feet touched the ground again, so gently she almost didn’t notice the transition, she was startled to realize she had actually enjoyed herself, and although her hands were stiff from holding so tightly to the broom handle, her knees weren’t shaking at all. She felt a goofy, breathless smile on her face that wouldn’t go away.

Fred trailed after her, broom slung casually over his shoulder, as she collected the broom she had borrowed earlier, and then her book.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he prodded, though his proud grin made it clear he had spotted her own.

Hermione rolled possible answers around in her mind, before settling on, “I suppose, riding with you isn’t too bad.” Her cheeks were warm again, and she still couldn’t quench that smile, not even to express her discomfort at the prospect of flying in general.

Fred’s smile turned blinding. “Well, I guess I’ll have to take you flying again some time.”

He led her to the broom shed, to put her broom away. “Do I have to worry about you going flying with anyone else?” he asked, as she set her broom gently in the designated corner.

She turned around, and found herself practically in his arms. She took half a step to close the gap and wrapped her arms around him as she’d been wanting to do for most of the afternoon. He returned the hug, and pressed a tentative kiss to her forehead.

She squeezed him tighter, approvingly, since her own beaming smile was hidden in his chest. “No,” she promised. “Just with you.”

[sarkywoman]

WIP Game

tagged by: @hucklebunny​ 

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

I don’t exactly have a WIP folder as I have scribbled notes for my active WIPs that I bring together into a document when I’m at a computer and ready, but here’s a general gist with rough working titles. All Umbrella Academy, as other projects aren’t exactly what I’d call ‘in-progress’. Majority Klau5 (or Klive, as fandom calls it), but there’s other pairings in there too, so if you follow me for the OTP, be warned this is all a bit russian roulette XD  Ask away!

Crisis Catch and Carry for BTHBingo

S3 Hookup AU

Power Swap Storytime

Don’t Touch Me

Higher vs Lower Selves

Five’s Daughter

Asylum

Rehab

Hanging Out

Keeping You Up Nights

For the Aesthetic, Babes

Not so Soft

Lifeblood Given Freely series

Witchhunt series

Passion Over Consequence

ESO AU

tagging: anyone who wants to play!

[signelchan]

Akane is a character that I don’t ever have a reason to write, but I kind of wish I got to write more. Also...it was nice to be able to get back into writing bthbingo prompts with something a lot less sad.

that being said, I’m out of prompts again so hit me up!!

AO3 | FFN

[mythgirlimagines]

@saiharakaedes said: ooh can i get a uhhhhhhhhh momoharu backhand slap for bthbingo

Uhhhhhhh absolutely

Fandom: Danganronpa

Characters: Kaito Momota, Maki Harukawa

“Why did you want me to come if you were just going to ditch me?”

Maki’s hard gaze bore into him, but Kaito didn’t mind- much. If he looked past her hardened stare, her eyes were really pretty, not that she would appreciate him saying so. For a moment, he couldn’t find words, but Maki rolled her eyes, going to close her door. “Wait, no!”

“Look. I only came because you told me that we were going to have fun together. I came on the condition that you wouldn’t leave me alone in a crowd of people I can’t stand. If you aren’t going to answer my question, I’m going to go right back to doing what I was doing- ignoring you.”

But a grin spread across his face. “Ignoring me, right. That’s why you answered the door. Seriously, though, I meant what I said, just give me a moment to explain, okay?”

“You have one minute. Starting now.”

He had to admit, he panicked a bit. He couldn’t form an explanation that fast! It wasn’t exactly his fault that their friends dragged him off, though maybe he shouldn’t have said he’d “be right back” given that it took over a half hour. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know that they would drag me away, I didn’t know that it was gonna take that long, I didn’t know any of that was going to happen. If I had, I wouldn’t have made you come.”

She hesitated for a moment, like she was considering his words. “Whatever.” Her door closed before he could stop it this time. She really was mad about this, and he can, for the most part, see why. He knew very well that she wasn’t comfortable in super-social, crowded places. He just thought he’d be able to help her have some fun there.

“C’mon, Maki Roll! Let me make it up to you!” He rang her doorbell over and over once more, sure he was going to break it.

The door opened again. “If I let you, will you promise to leave me alone, at least for another hour?”

“Fine, whatever you want! I’ll make it up to you, your choice. I can take you out on a date, or you can hit me.”

She blinked. “You want to let a trained assassin hit you?”

Yeah, he had a feeling she would choose that one. Before he could respond, she slapped him across the face with the back of her hand. He didn’t dwell on how she’d even reached, given her short stature.

“I’ll take the date, too.” Her door shut for good this time. His cheek hurt, and was probably all red. She hadn’t even flinched.

Worth it.

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Congrats on your BTHBingo card!! I don't know who your characters are, but can I request "lifted by the neck" for a boy oc of yours? :)

Ahh thank you! And yes, the drabble will be posted tomorrow and I’ll be sure to tag you in it. Thank you again for the request :D

[blackberry-bloody]

Holy crap!

When the heck did that happen?! Thank you all so much! I will definitely try to do something for this milestone! If you have any ideas or requests, let me know!

(yes I am still working on the BTHBingo card. Life has just been hitting me in the face repeatedly)

[burtlederp]

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

—

I GOT IT Y’ALL :D

ASK AWAAAYYY~ THIS IS WHEN THE FUN BEGINS

@badthingshappenbingo THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU

[altschmerzes]

just got my bad things happen bingo.......... would anybody be interested in seeing it to possibly make suggestions/requests

[muggle-writes]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Sleep Deprivation

suggested by @dove-actually

This vignette has actually been sitting around for ages, and I was trying to write more of a follow up showing the effects of sleep deprivation more than the insomnia itself, but with such a broad cast as the Weasley family, when I usually focus on 2-4 characters and not 7+, I’ve been stalled on finishing later scenes. And this stands alone pretty well, so I decided I’d post it now. If I ever finish the later scenes, I’ll add them to the version on AO3, but not to this post

content: Ginny Weasley, and the aftermath of her first year. Depiction of PTSD

My wife no longer has a tumblr, so I can’t tag her in thanks for beta reading

read it on AO3

To Flee From Morpheus

Ginny jolted from asleep to alert almost instantaneously. She scrambled upright, frantically trying to get her bearings. It was dark. Home. She was in bed at home. As her breathing settled and her heart slowed, she could hear Percy snoring through one wall, and the gentle creaking of the house. She’d only been asleep.

She muffled a groan — if Mum realized she was awake again, she would force Dreamless Sleep down her throat which would make everything so much worse; Ginny hadn't been able to explain that nightmares weren't the problem (she might even prefer them) — and glanced at the clock beside her bed. It was 4:03 in the morning. It had been almost three hours since her eyes had finally drifted shut staring at it. That might be a record for this summer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to sleep, necessarily. It was just, realizing that she wasn’t aware of what had happened, or what she’d been doing for the past few hours, was a horribly familiar sensation, and she couldn’t shake the instinct to check herself for blood.

She checked. She was clean. She was in soft, clean pajamas, soiled with nothing worse than the cold sweat she had woken in. She hadn’t been wandering about in her sleep, and all of her time was accounted for before bed. There was no hint of Tom.

Still, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep again tonight.