#bthb prompts

[lauronk]

What's next for bthb?

my plan (we shall see how it goes) is to start on “cradling someone in their arms” next! this one i’m excited and nervous to write - the idea was given to me by my friend @stillboldlygoing, who gifted to me a whole plot and even some written sections that she was not going to use, and so i wanna make sure i do it justice 🥹

(and y’all will be very happy to know that it will have a happy outcome because she has been very insistent and i will not disappoint her)

it’s gonna be on the longer side (and i wanna get the final part of bus fic up soon too) so it might be a little bit before it sees the light of day

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Let the Sun only shine on me through a falling sky- prompt: concussion

Cliff gets a concussion after Morgan accidentally has him punched in the face.

Read it here!

[renegadeknight]

Since somebody was asking about the cards, what is "you're too late now" in the bthb one about, if you don't mind me asking? Seems intriguing and I wanna know some of it, but don't need to spoil of couse👉🏼👈🏼

I actually got three requests for that prompt and I haven't decided which one I'm going to do yet but they are loosely:

When Ellie and Tommy find Joel in the barn, she tells him "too late" and opts to go with Tommy, obviously this goes off without a hitch

Tommy recognizes Ellie's knife and Anna's name and realizes that he might be Ellie's bio dad but it's "too late" because she has Joel

Ellie and Joel are more substantially separated by the fireflies, they didn't expect Joel to come back but he does, so when he catches up they tell him he's "too late", obviously he takes it well

BTHB Card

[depressed-sock]

Alright I've been holding onto this because I thought I was gonna do a fic with it but that's not happening lol

So I'll go ahead and take prompts for this. For the time being I'm sticking with dragon age, mass effect, fallout 4, and assassin's creed (Desmond centric prompts only). For whatever left over prompts I have after a few days I'll open it up for Fallen Hero and Wayhaven prompts. (For pc's I'll either default to nuetral or my own oc's)

[dick-the3rd]

If you’re still accepting prompts for bad things happen bingo *fingers crossed* BruJay “Just get it over with”???

Oh yes anon I'm pretty much still accepting prompts!!

I'm sorry it took me so long, life happened and tbh I wasn't really sure how to approach this, but it's here at last!

Where we left, Rated T, Brujay

And the masterlist is here

[boxfullaturtles]

And Donnie didn’t let him go. He kept holding Mikey. He hissed at the rest of the family to go away when they came running at the sound of Mikey’s loud crying. He rubbed Mikey’s shell and leaned his cheek against the top of Mikey’s head. He held Mikey until Mikey had exhausted all his tears and was gasping and hiccuping and taking shuddering little breaths.

Little scene from the end of Another Man's Poison.

I've been struggling with digital art recently; just haven't been able to finish anything I start and I'm not happy with anything I work on. It's been kind of frustrating... But the traditional art's been fine. Scratches the itch. So I've been making do.

[homerforsure]

Title: old heat of a raging fire

Rating: T

Word Count: 8076 apparently. Oops.

Summary:

"Breathing hurts. Buck’s lungs search for oxygen, drawing too deep breaths from the dregs of his tank until they wheeze and exhale, still half empty. Eddie keeps coughing and coughing, barely seeming to breathe in between, and Buck’s fingers itch to press an oxygen mask to his face except there isn’t one. There never will be one if the hand he’s tracing along the wall never hits the ladder."

BTHB Prompt: Trapped in a Burning Building

[katsmtmsdoodles]

Reblog for bigger sample size! Based on this post by @rigorwhoring

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

[ultracreativelywritten]

A bad things happen bingo for the Elite trine?

Thundercracker petted Starscream’s wings as his trine leader laid next to him. On the other side of Starscream, Skywarp was snoring away. It was a rare moment of peace for them. There was no Megatron to worry about, no blasterfire aimed at them. Starscream’s optics shuttered off and his vents slowed. It was almost impossible to get Starscream to recharge at night. Most of the time, it was just him and Skywarp.

Well, he made it look like him and Skywarp were there all night. He was sneaking out to a hideout most nights to give Jazz information on upcoming raids. While he looked like one of the more loyal members of his trine, it was far from the truth.

He knew that Megatron was behind the bombing on Vos, and how he was manipulating the other seekers with doctored evidence of the Autobots doing the deed. Ever since then, he had been working as a spy. Being the trine mate to the second in command gave him access to information the no other spy could acquire easily.

One thing he didn’t expect to do was get attached to Skywarp and Starscream. At first, he found the two annoying and screechy. Overtime, he saw their behavior for what it was worth. Starscream had been hurt so badly by everyone and everything around him, he was trying to save himself from being hurt again. Skywarp’s pranks were him just trying to cope with the horrors of war.

It would break both of their sparks to know that their trine mate was a traitor. That he was always an Autobot. That every secret they confessed to him could be in some Autobot report. It would break his spark as much as theirs when he was forced to betray them. Maybe he could convince them to join him, join the Autobots in creating a new and better cybertron.

___________

Soundwave scowled at the monitor. At this hour no one was awake, except for himself. There should be absolutely no one roaming the halls. Most mechs knew better than to break curfew. Switching to a camera with a better view, the cassette player could make out a pair of blue wings.

Thundercracker was the only one who matched the description of the mech on the monitor. Soundwave silently wondered why the blue seeker would be out this late. Nothing good, but was it a late night flight or treason. The cassette player had to find out.

"Ravage: eject." Soundwave said. The cat cassette jumped out of his loading dock, glaring at her creator. Soundwave knew that she didn't appreciate being woken up.

"Ravage: follow Thundercracker." Soundwave in structed. Ravage let out a little hiss but ran off. Soundwave started to right up a report for the cassette's recon mission. If the blue seeker was betraying them and not going out for some late night excursion, then this had to be by the book. Treason was not something to be taken lightly.

[kaufmann-6]

Okay, I'm actually committed to finishing @badthingshappenbingo this time.

Here's my card:

Feel free to send me Batfam requests!

Here's my AO3, in case you'd like to check it out. If you're interested, I have a whumpy Jason Todd & Tim Drake fic I posted back in february. (link to the fic on ao3)

Also, if you want to get to know my other fics, go to this post, where there's a masterlist of all of my works from my favorite fandoms like TUA and PJO.

I'm thinking of writing some of these prompts with Jason Todd but I'm not sure which ones yet so I'm open to suggestions. (yes, I'm a big JT stan)

Hit me!

[lonelychicago]

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing

buck/eddie | teen and up | 5.5k words

After a few bites he starts to heat up even more and it might show on his face because Eddie shoots him a couple of confused and concerned looks but otherwise doesn't say anything. He shakes his head and coughs around the tickle in his throat that wouldn't go away, that is only getting stronger. Buck reaches for his drink again and coughs into the cup, unable to take the long drink he wanted.

"Baby, are you okay?" Eddie is now resting a hand on Buck's cheek and it feels cold against his heated skin. His boyfriend is looking more and more concerned by the minute and his parents join, looking at Buck with knotted eyebrows and pursed lips.

Fuck. This night was supposed to be perfect and Buck is ruining it with his stupid cough. or: In which Eddie's parents come to visit, Buck is an idiot and as always, a family dinner goes wrong. BTHB Prompt: Allergic Reaction

read on ao3

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Love, Actually- Prompt: Barely Conscious

Fandom: That '80s Show

Pairing: Corey Howard/June Tuesday

Corey and Tuesday are both sick with the same cold. Tuesday is handling it like a champ, but Corey? Well, he's... he's handling it. Barely.

Requested by my bff @pollencoveredman

Read here or below the cut!

Chin in the palm of one hand, the other wielding the remote of the Howard family’s ridiculously oversized TV (I mean, God, it must weigh a ton), Tuesday flicks through endless boring channels in an attempt to find something to distract her from how she’s feeling. It’s a task that won’t be completed easily, given the frequency of her congestion-laden sniffs, but she’s convinced that if she zones out watching Super Password for long enough, she’ll forget she even has a stupid cold. 

Katie peeks her head round the corner from the kitchen, brow knitted with sympathy. “Can I get you some tea with honey?”

Tuesday does her best to smile, even as her sinuses feel so utterly blocked that moving her face is borderline painful. “That would be great, thanks.”

“I’ll make some extra just in case Corey comes down here too.”

As Katie disappears back into the kitchen, Tuesday pulls the woollen blanket she’s kindly been lent over the tops of her tented legs and shivers. She’s lucky she’s here, really. She can’t imagine spending days laid up with a cold in the Arctic Circle that is her apartment, lacking central heating as it is, with only a scratchy old blanket for warmth. In gaining a boyfriend, she also managed to gain access to somewhere unquestionably better to be unwell in. A good thing, too, given how often its inhabitant appears to be under the weather. 

Some old game show appears on the flickering TV screen, and she sets down the remote, relaxing into the back of the couch. It’s an old trivia competition that’s probably aimed at 80 year-olds with extensive knowledge of old musicians, but it’s good enough background noise at least. 

Tuesday lets the distant hum of smarmy hosts speaking and the tinny sound of applause fill her ears, and closes her eyes...

“H-hey.”

She nearly jumps out of her seat at the sudden greeting, head turning so quickly she’s certain she would startle her interrupter if he weren’t so dazed as to make startling him impossible. 

“Corey... Christ, you scared the shit out of me. Why the hell are you out of bed?”

He blinks groggily, shrugging from where he’s stood at the foot of the stairs and nearly toppling over in the process. His hair is even more of an unruly mess than usual. 

“You okay?”

For a moment, he just stands there, the duvet he dragged down the stairs with him wrapped like a cape about his shoulders. When he blinks again, his eyes remain closed even longer than last time before opening at last, bloodshot and bright with feverish delirium. “Uh...mhm... just needed to.... jus’ needed to check...”

Tuesday tilts her head, unused to the way her un-spiked hair doesn’t weigh her down even further in the direction she moves. “Check what?”

He frowns a little as if he’s already lost the flow of conversation, then sighs deeply and rubs his eyes. “Oh... right.... yeah... um, the gnome. ‘S he bothering you?”

His expression is so genuine Tuesday doesn’t know how to respond. She chokes down a laugh and schools her own face into seriousness, paying extra attention to make sure her voice doesn’t wobble with amusement when she replies, “The gnome?”

Corey nods, eyes closed. He tilts forwards a little then pulls himself back upright with effort. “Yeah, the... the gnome upstairs ‘s been... yeah, he’s been kind of... giving me grief, y’know? Wi’the... the curds n’all.”

At this point, Tuesday can’t help but smile. “Oh, of course. What’s he been doing with the curds?”

Her boyfriend sighs, beleaguered, and wanders slowly towards the couch, throwing his hands up as he speaks like he’s Reagan addressing a particularly unfavourable trade deal. 

“He’s- the guy... the guy keeps tryna sell them to me f’r... for way too much, it’s like... its ridiculous. Don’ even... don’ even like curds tha’ much.”

“No?” 

He shakes his head with a frown. His duvet cape drags sadly along behind him as he teeters ever so slowly into the living room. 

“Wish he’d fuck’n... leave me ‘lone... bu’ tha’s not the point.” He announces suddenly, directing his heavy-lidded gaze to her. “I was... was checking if he’s... if he’s, um, bothering you?”

Tuesday feels an unexpected warmth at his words. Sure, he’s speaking absolute gibberish, but at least his gibberish is directed towards the goal of protecting her from... fraudulent gnomes?

“He... he hasn’t been bothering me, no.” She reassures him, barely containing her smile. 

It’s at this point that Katie emerges from the kitchen, a mug in each hand. She screeches to a halt when she sees Corey, though, an expression of sisterly frustration on her face. 

“Core, why the heck are you out of bed?” 

“That’s almost exactly what I asked him.” Tuesday responds coolly, arching a brow at her boyfriend who is most definitely not equipped to be facing off against two women. He barely seems able to stand.

“I had to... had to check...” he trails off, eyes slipping closed for a few seconds longer than can be considered a blink. He waves a hand around vaguely as if to explain his point, then clearly gives up trying to articulate the jumbled mess that is his drug-laden mind and only sighs again, lifting his hand instead to rub dejectedly across his face.

Katie hurries over to place the mugs down (one on the coffee table, one in Tuesday’s cupped hands) then redirects her attention to her brother, fussing over him just like she has been ever since Corey was struck by the same cold afflicting his girlfriend.

She takes him by the hand, muttering gently under her breath about him being ‘silly’ for even attempting the staircase while he’s on so much cold medicine, how he could have fallen and hit his head, all while the recipient of this admittedly soft lecture continues to blink dazedly like he can barely follow her words. When they reach the other side of the couch, Katie tells him to sit, and he does so more out of exhaustion than anything else.

“Now, I made you some tea with honey if you want something to drink, but are you going to be able to hold it without spilling it all over yourself?”

Corey hums, cheeks blazing with embarrassment. “M fine, Kates... But maybe, um... maybe’ll have it in a little while.”

“Alright... it’s just on the table if you change your mind.”

“Th’nk you.”

He shudders, resting his weight against Tuesday and nuzzling into the crook of her neck, eyes slipping closed again. Her arm moves around him to pull him closer, hand brushing gently against the curls tumbling over his forehead in that way she knows he likes. Katie, meanwhile, fusses with the duvet around him, tucking it in here and there and making sure it’s properly wrapped around his slightly shaking shoulders. Tuesday doesn’t miss the way she sneaks a quick forehead kiss into her assessment, nor the sleepy smile on Corey’s face immediately after.

As her fingers tousle his curls, Tuesday frowns. “You really do feel warm, Princess. When was the last time you checked your temperature?”

Her boyfriend’s response is nothing more than an incoherent mumble. Katie rolls her eyes fondly and disappears in search of a thermometer.

Corey shudders again, this time burying his face even deeper into her neck and mumbling something else that Tuesday doesn’t catch in any other way than the ticklish vibrations it elicits in her skin. She runs her fingers through his hair and tilts his chin up from where it rests on her shoulder, gazing into the hazy blue eyes that look lovingly up at her.

“Hm? Didn’t catch that.”

“Said... don’ feel well.”

The piteous remark coupled with the pout that ensues is enough to melt Tuesday’s icy heart (or at least, the one she pretends is icy). She strokes her thumb along the curve of his jaw.

“I’m sorry... if it’s any consolation, I feel like crap too. My head, it’s like somebody’s- shoving an ice pick into my eye repeatedly.”

This time, it’s Corey’s turn to frown with concern (or at least, as much expression as he can muster given how drugged he is).

“Y’r head? H-here...”

He pushes himself up slightly and reaches over with one shaking hand, the thumb and forefinger of which he places tenderly on the bridge of her nose. The contact initially makes her hiss from the pain, but the following gentle ministrations instead elicit a low groan of approval.

“God, Corey, your hands are like magic.”

When she opens her eyes, having closed them with the pleasure of his touch, he’s smirking like a schoolboy. It’s clear that he’s trying to conjure an innuendo of some kind about the other uses of his hands, but his wit has been dulled beneath too much cold medicine to produce any results. Tuesday slaps him gently on the wrist anyway, knowing what he’d say if he could.

Katie re-emerges with a thermometer in hand only a few seconds later. She smiles giddily at the sight she’s met with.

“Oh, you two are so adorable!”

Before Corey can retort, she’s placing said thermometer in his mouth and holding it in place with a triumphant grin while he glares in her direction like a cat having his nails trimmed involuntarily. It’s more sweet than anything, given how close he looks to falling asleep at all times.

When she withdraws the device following a beep, she frowns.

“101.2. Not good.” She shakes her head. “I really ought to get you one of those gel pads for your forehead.”

Corey whines, burying his head yet again against Tuesday- this time, her shoulder.

His girlfriend meets Katie’s eyes. “I think that means no.”

“Mm... apparently... God, he’s a nightmare when he’s sick... Fine. If you’re not going to follow my advice on that front, the least you can do is drink that tea. Why don’t we put a movie on and you two can relax in here?”

Tuesday nods, and Corey follows sleepily after.

“Alright... any suggestions?”

Another incoherent mumble from Corey against his girlfriend’s shoulder, onto which he’s now drooling a little.

“What was that, Princess?” Tuesday asks with a chuckle.

He raises his head blearily, swaying a little. “Said... nev’ending story.”

Katie groans. “Corey, it only came out this year and you’ve already watched it five times.” She pauses, sighing, but trudges over to the VHS player, crouching down to press a single button: play. Evidently, ‘nev’ending story’, as Corey so eloquently puts it, was the last thing to run. When she stands up again, Katie offers Tuesday a sympathetic expression. “Let me get you some more tissues.”

Tuesday frowns. “Why? I’m not really that congested, this tea is actually-“

“Not for congestion. For Corey, when he starts crying. He does every time.”

Buried beneath his duvet mound pressed up against Tuesday, the culprit huffs.

“Do not.”

**

Artax sinks in the bog, and Corey is a wreck. It’s a good thing Tuesday helped him finish the tea by holding it for him before the scene began, otherwise there’s no way he would have been able to drink- he’s crying too goddamn much.

“Y’gotta fight the sadness, Artax.” He slurs, shoulders shaking with sobs. “Y’gotta fightit.”

Tuesday rubs his shoulder, unable to contain the smirk on her face as she does her best to comfort him. He’s distraught, and if she isn’t careful he’s going to burst a blood vessel in his eyes from crying so much. How the hell is she going to explain that to him when he’s well?

“Core, it’s okay. The horse isn’t real, you know that, right?”

He doesn’t remove his eyes from the screen, voice hoarse as he continues to urge the fictional horse through the bog, seemingly unaware that he has no influence on the course of the plot. His pleas grow weaker and weaker by the second, drowned beneath yet more cries. By the time Artax finally sinks for good, he’s exhausted himself, and Tuesday is left to hold his quivering form and watch him fight against the pull of sleep.

“S’not... s’not fair, T’sday... he’s a... he’s a good horrrse.”

She runs her fingers through his hair, shushing softly. “I know, bud. I know.”

“Idon’t know how... Atreyu’s gonna... carry on withou’ him.”

Tuesday frowns, snorting. “Babe, you do know, because you’ve watched this movie five times before.”

It’s impossible to reason with him, though. Corey’s eyes are by now completely closed, and he’s leaning all his weight against her shoulder, drooling mercilessly. The last thing she receives from him before the sadness and the meds and the undeniable sickness catch up to him is a pathetic,

“Horse.”

**

It takes quite a lot of effort to get Corey up the stairs and back into bed when the night draws to a close, but Tuesday’s stronger than a lot of people give her credit for, and with only a little help from Katie, he’s successfully deposited beneath the quilt on his own mattress. He’s snoring softly, a clear sign that he isn’t well, and his cheeks and nose are beet-red with fever. Still, as Tuesday curls up next to him, exhausted from her own experience with this stupid cold, he inches towards her like he’s freezing.

She lets him seek out her warmth despite the rational part of her mind screaming at her to keep him cool, her arms instinctively wrapping around him. Tonight, just like most nights, he’s the little spoon.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” She murmurs, congested, into his wild curls. “Your temp’s gonna shoot through the roof in the night.”

Corey snores in response, shaking a little within her embrace.

“Mm... very true... very true. You raise some good points.”

His hot breaths chuff against her collarbone where he’s pressed to her, the occasional flaring of his nostrils and twitching of his nose giving her goose bumps. One of his legs is resting atop hers, the hair of it scratching uncomfortable against her skin. His forehead is far too warm on her neck.

And yet... despite all these little discomforts, just laying here with him and stroking his sweat-damp hair is something she could do for the rest of her days. She could soothe every inch of his feverish skin with her lips and never grow tired of it.

It’s love, she realises. There’s no other explanation for it. There don’t exist any other words in the English language to explain the way he makes her feel when he smiles, or when he reaches out a shaking hand in an attempt to ease her own measly headache while he’s suffering tenfold.

She doesn’t do taking care of people. She doesn’t do being taken care of.

With Corey, though, everything is different. Isn’t that love?

Maybe. She’ll talk to him about it when he’s feeling better, when the curd-selling gnomes are long forgotten and he’s embarrassed about his tears over Artax.

For now, she’ll just lay here and watch him sleep for a while.

[thegaynessarchives]

MY FIRST BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO CARD IS HERE!!!

Send me requests from here and I will write them! :D God I love these things so much

I will be getting more probably lol

Unrelated/userboxes:

[depressed-sock]

So I'm keeping this open for dragon age, mass effect, fallout 4, and assassin's creed (Desmond centric prompts only). But am now opening it up for Fallen Hero and Wayhaven.

Anything with a dot already has a request/is something I'm going to use for my characters.

[dick-the3rd]

For the bad things happen bingo, brujay and zip ties maybe?

You know, this was supposed to be a drabble, and a lot less kinkier, but guess it had other plans. I decided to post on ao3 bc I came to the conclusion it was too big for Tumblr.

Cutting Ties, Brujay, Mature.

--

Masterpost here

[boxfullaturtles]

I was just thinking about in the aftermath “We Were Made to Suffer and to Love”, if Donnie managed to get away with Raph. And the family maybe had to track them down and bring them home.

Donnie’s probably real messed up about everything--his body’s warped, double mutated by his brother’s DNA, he’s probably in pain, his speech is choppy, and he’s likely confused, scared, unstable, and way more emotional than he’d like. Not to mention how self-conscious he probably is about his size, poor guy. And no one’s even sure about Raph. He looks like a regular snapping turtle and he can only make turtle noises. But he seems to recognize his family, so maybe there’s hope...

Just having thoughts about a fic I will never give a conclusion to :)