#cw home invasion

[jellyghostspace]

ACAB:01.png

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Worbs

Share, ankle, head, or wrist?

Thank you for the worbs by wonderful friend <3

Share from thought i wanted love ('til you showed me what it was):

Four days later, James still hadn’t left.  After that first sleepless night, Jamie came up with a plan—one that allowed him to forgive his father, one Ted would be proud of him for. Jamie offered his house, and as long as James continued to attend AA meetings, he could stay. A change of scenery had helped Jamie; why wouldn’t it help James? His father ensconced himself in Jamie’s spare room, and it was fine.  It would be fine.  He would take it day by day, just like his father said they did in AA.  Jamie spent his second sleepless night debating whether he should tell anyone about his Dad. He definitely couldn’t tell Mummy. Maybe he could tell some of the team, though? Sam wouldn’t judge him, but he wasn’t sure he could handle their pitying faces. But he didn’t have to decide now, did he? He could always tell them later. Maybe his Dad would leave after a few days, and there wouldn’t even be anything to share.

I got 112 words on the sprint <3

Ankle from the home invasion fic:

“We found a safe in the basement. You’re going to unlock it for us.” The two began to drag Jamie towards the wall, only for his ankle to give out on him the first time he transferred weight to it. He would’ve crashed to the floor if he wasn’t being held upright. Jamie could feel where the bruises from their grip on his arms would be.  “There’s nothing in it, please,” Jamie begged. “Please just let me stay here. I’ll give you the code you can see for yourself. It’s just like my birth certificate and shit. A copy of my contract. Nothing worth anything. It’s just fireproof.” “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, mate. Let’s go.” Jamie had one last chance to make a break for it. 

Added 163 words on a sprint!

Head from it makes me mad, it makes me sad, i break in half:

Roy followed closely but went immediately to the tub, turning the knob and testing the water before rummaging for bubbles under Jamie’s sink. Jamie watched with interest as he filled the tub with the bubbles and then added Epsom salts. Roy disappeared, and Jamie slowly peeled his t-shirt off. It hurt to lift it over his head, and Jamie wasn’t sure he’d be able to lift his arm on the side with the bruised ribs. He slipped from his shorts as Roy re-entered the bathroom, holding a cup, a couple of towels and a face cloth.  “What’re you doing, mate?” Jamie asked.  “Going to help you,” Roy said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

And added 193 words via sprint!

Wrist from if i glued myself shut, you would find your way in:

Jamie concentrates on watching Monroe the rest of the match while keeping to his position as best he could. The good news is Monroe isn’t as keen to stay in his position and keeps drifting to Jamie knocking into him at any point or attempting to tackle him. Monroe is angry, but Jamie’s angry and fast, so most of his attempts don’t succeed.  But as the match ticks on, each step jars Jamie’s wrist, and the pain is zapping his energy, Jamie can feel the adrenaline leaving his body as he struggles to keep up with his team and opponent. It’s injury time when Monroe finally catches Jamie flat-footed, and Jamie goes down hard, rolling a few stops. The refs award a free kick, and Jamie struggles to remember to breathe, feeling as if a knife has somehow embedded itself in his wrist and thumb. 

And I added 404 words in a sprint!

[the-crystal-femmes]

One of us had a dream that green, cartoon aliens broke into our house. We have a reason to suspect Peridot influenced this dream, but we don't have any proof.

It was a funny dream and a lot better than the one we woke up with this morning, at least this one didn't cause Lapis pain..

[maeattemptsateverything]

Arrest

Émile was running, leaving others teachers in awe and a mess of still ungraded essays in his wake. The headmistress would yell at him later but it didn't matter; he would never have left his job if whatever was happening wasn't important. He ran as fast as he could when he saw the troop’s movement.

The only thing in his mind was the Angel.

He still was too slow, when he saw that the heavy forces had already broken down his front door. The neighbors were already peeping through their windows; surely one of them called. His front yard was a mess, nobody minded to have kicked mud and pebbles into his living room.

The bathroom had the cabinets wide open, his medication on the floor while both the kitchen and his bedroom were being ransacked by armed soldiers. Émile was trying and failing to rescue his mother's delicate china and the clothes his sister chose for him.

The soldiers didn't seem to be getting anywhere near the bookshelf; a hidden entrance his father built long ago. A great relief but a useless one. His breathing was almost erratic and that was not helping his case.

"Could you be the owner of this house?" Asked a blond man standing in the middle of the living room, the Captain, with a smirk on his face but a bored look in his eyes.

“What is this? Are you a policeman?” Asked Émile, the same tone when some student causes mayhem on the back seats.

“I do the questions here, mister” The Captain keept a nonchalant attitude but was clearly tired, not wanting to spend more than necessary with yet another civilian.

“You need a permit to enter a person's house; otherwise it is a crime of trespass” the man let out a surprised chuckle, but quickly fell back to composure.

“Aren't you a funny one? But I suggest you mind your tone”

A small noise came from the basement; the boxes falling. His angel friend tends to knock off things with their antlers, especially if they can't calculate the space when they move. If someone checks the bookshelf…

"What do you want?" Émile feigned annoyance, shielding his rising anxiety with anger.

"Nothing much, just want to check around"

"Well you already did! And destroyed my stuff in the process. So. Get. Out!”

“Sorry mister, but I'm the authority here. Most neighbors had reported suspicious activities coming from your domicile” The living room started to fill with soldiers, at least twenty. Émile tried his best to hide his dread "So if you can be so kind to tell us if you are a thief or a drug manufacturer...”

“That’s bullshit you are talking about! I'm literally a middle school teacher, I couldn't be dangerous if I wanted to!”

“Do you also use that language in front of your students?” Laughed one of the soldiers, the rest followed like hyenas.

“I´m sorry, you seem like such a weak opponent that it's usually one of those two options.” he was not going to lose his temper to people that were a head taller than him.

Émile bit his lower lip, trying to not get paralyzed “You already checked and found nothing”

“Why does your bookshelf have hinges?” he froze in his place, watching how the soldiers inspected the hidden entrance.

And finally went down the basement.

“Wait! You can't go down there!” He tried to reason with the captain, grabbing his armor to slow down his pace.

Only for the captain to slam his head against the ceramic floor. Émile was so astounded by the sharp pain in his temple he almost didn't register the taste of his own blood in his mouth.

“‐nestly”

“W- at?” The captain's voice was deafening, but almost drowned by the high pitch whistle at the same time. He was breathless.

“Answer honestly now” the Captain looked bigger, even if he could only see him over his shoulder by the tail of his eye. The other thing he saw was his left elbow held over the captain's knee. One wrong move and it was going to be bent backwards.

“that may save you from future problems”

“"I ca- I can't” I can't breath

“You are talking, you are fine”

The whole weight of the captain was over him, feeling his own ribs threatening to break and puncture his lungs. He was not fine, he was feeling lightheaded and needed to run away. The noise coming from the basement was growing louder in his ears, screams; his eyes burned and itched, and could not make out the blurred figures that hurried back.

Émile's eyes were frozen on the single soldier that cried while climbing up the stairs. She was all confident when her troop invaded his home, not expecting to find a treath. But she collapsed right in front of him. Her helmet was torn to shreds, the sight of her milky white skull against the bloodied tissue of her eye. Multiple slashes and holes ran through her face; wounds that were fast, angry, desperate.

Scared.

“What. are. you. hiding?”

The commanding yet terrified tone of the Captain above him was a stark contrast.

The house was suddenly silent, the soldiers no longer approaching the basement. Instead they formed a defense around their captain, weapons pointed steadily and fully charged. Émile could only see its boots. Émile already knew what was coming when the creature emerged from the dark. The captain stood at the sight of the antlers and drew out a rifle, pointing at the open mouth.

These creatures are naturally meek, Émile knew this. So the sight was enough to make him crawl away to a corner and hide, instead he was frozen in place when faced with the Angel. Its pose was akin to a claim of surrender; hiding its wings making itself seem smaller, eyes wide open. It was scared, repent; He knew it was not going to attack again.

Maybe the only reason the soldiers were able to empty their cartridges.

An ear-shattering yell reverberated through the room. The Angel was taken down, crawling towards him with a body pierced entirely. It cried in pain still, sounding primal and anguished. Émile was always successful in calming it down, soft touches in its hair while humming calm reassurances.

Now Émile could only watch his friend suffer while himself was paralyzed; not even able to move his face.

“Don't let that thing move an inch! Cut the feathers, tie its hands, I don't care! Just wait for reinforcement and call the director! Don´t kill it yet!” the Captain was shouting, the only sound anchoring him to reality.

“And this one-” he was at the verge of panic; the Captain last order only tipped his balance.

“Throw this bastard in the truck”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Can you hide a feral creature that is at war with humanity in your basement and expect no consequences?

[tasia-reader]

i went to look up a clip from family guy and took a good 5 minutes to figure out why "meg home invasion" was bringing me rooster teeth videos

[twosentencehorror]

Home alone, you enjoy a nice book and some peace in an old rocking chair.

Glass shatters.

[mrsoharaa]

cw; stalking, home invasion(?).

there is something just sooo erotically enticing and thrilling when you begin to go around your empty one bedroom apartment to shut off all the lights, locking the front door and just mindlessly at peace, thinking you're alone...when you're really not. There's a looming presence deeply masked into the shrouded darkness that covers majority of your quaint home. Leering eyes carefully watching you - studying you, from the mystery depths of the inky darkness.

And when you feel a piercing shudder run all over you, your shoulders tensing and your back slightly arched from the sudden chill grazing along your tender skin - you couldn't help but frantically gaze over through the darken living room. Feeling something, creepily, trickle at your tense skin.

[voidselfshipp]

[cue the proxys trying to break into a house]

Masky: this is the moment where Googly eyes over here tells us they brought a crowbar or something

Observer,who always has a tool at hand: I didnt bring one

Hoodie: Wait wha- why didnt you?!

Observer: because where I would hide it? Up my ass? Yall should do stuff too!

Masky: so how do we break in?

Hoodie:

Observer:

Masky:

Observer: I do have a set of brassknuckles

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For Wednesday words, Tonight, Breath and/or Step

Thank you my kind friend :)

Tonight from Dear Leslie:

Leslie wasn’t his father, and he prided himself on that. He would never treat his children the way his own father treated him, but Jamie was a tougher nut to crack. Higgins wasn’t sure Jamie would be open to his usual brand of parenting. Jamie’s sharp edges could cut through even the strongest metal, whereas Leslie’s edges were soft and moldable like Play-Doh. But maybe Jamie didn’t need a parent. Maybe tonight Jamie just needed a safe place, a friend and a dog to snuggle.

Breath from the home invasion fic:

Jamie fell to a painful heap on the floor, willing his breathing back to normal and to ignore the new level of pain, but his breath just came in painful, short huffs. A boot connected with his midsection then, and Jamie’s vision went white before he curled in on himself, wheezing heavily in pain.  “Get him up.”

Step (a bit long because I wasn't sure where to cut for context) from you inherit the sins, you inherit the flames:

Her first instinct was to blame Rupert—and then her father. If her father hadn’t treated her mother like less than an equal, would she have been blinded by Rupert’s attention? If Rupert hadn’t made her feel so little, would she have tried to make herself feel bigger by playing with the lives of others? Maybe those were all fair questions, but her actions were still her own.  Divorce is hard. Hurt people hurt people. Rupert is a horrible man who built an ivory tower he kept you captive in, but you climbed every step of that tower on your own. She climbed every step, but the man who locked her in that tower wasn't the one she climbed it for. Still, if she wanted to end the hurt, end the cycle that started within her on that dark day in September, she had to take accountability. She could blame her father, she could blame Rupert, she could blame Jamie’s father, and she did, but as she sat there and looked at the devastated face of Jamie Tartt, she didn’t want to blame anyone else.

She wanted to take responsibility. She wanted to be the woman she was before she lost her father the first time. Before she gave in to a married man's advances.  She wanted to be the person Keeley Jones thought she was. She wanted to be the person Sam thought she was.  “I tried to destroy a monster, so I became one, and I didn’t care if I fed you to a different one to destroy mine."

[tau1tvec]

Yeah, brush your teeth in their kitchen sink, that'll teach 'em.

[cult-of-the-eye]

I had 4 nightmares in a row today and most of them were tma themed...I've never found it that scary but I guess now I am?? I'm gonna tell you them now:

(these are slightly unsettling btw so check the tags for trigger warnings)

You know desecrated host and confession? Yeah it's just that except I am experiencing what father burrows experienced. Except I kill and skin my little sister and I feel the absolute horror of waking up and realising what I'm doing and somehow it's worse when I realise that I've made my twin sister distraught. Cut to next dream where

I'm running from a burning hilltop house and through some sort of death trap maze thing made out of hedges and while I'm running for my life, terrified, it occurs to me that hey I think I might've listened to a tma episode about this, so I try to remember what happened so I can either avoid/follow that fate. I can't think of anything but for some reason I find a dragon shaped hole in the hedge so I run through that towards another house which is suspiciously similar to hilltop house. It's like a white clinical version and the family is smiling at me and they take me in and make me share a bed with their son. I am extremely uncomfortable and hyper vigilant so I just lie there awake and run away as soon as it starts to get a bit lighter. Cut to next dream where

I'm at home, it's like 9 pm and my dad has called me downstairs. Every day he checks everything is locked before going to bed after I've checked everything is locked cause hes kinda paranoid. Hes about to tell me off cause the front door is unlocked. The door slowly creaks open as we're standing there, showing a humid, dark street, backlit by an orange glow. It's very unsettling and I turn to my dad and shout SHUT THE DOOR SOMEONE MIGHT GET IN!! I then turn around into the house and it dawns on me that someone is already in the house. I know it's a man with a ratty top hat and an even rattier black billowing cloak, hiding in the shadows of our house and I know when I'll find him, he'll be pointing at me. Because of this knowledge, I tell my dad to stay put, because I'm gonna find him and potentially sacrifice myself. He lets me. I comb through the house, looking behind furniture and in every saturated, dark corner and I find him. Hes just as I imagined, pointing at me, with an open mouth, as if he's just about to scream. Cut to next dream where

I am still in my house. It's morning. I am entrusted with the care of a small child (around 7 or 8) and I am told that people are trying to kill her. People are baying at my open front door trying to see her and I tell her to run upstairs, while I block the staircase using my whole body. They're pushing against me and I see the girl peep down and I shout at her telling her to get away, they're gonna get you. The dream cuts away to the next morning. I wake up, feeling hollow. The girl is gone. I know in my heart that she's dead and probably has died a painful death and that I failed but instead all I feel is a sense of relief that I don't have to take care of her anymore.

Yeah so I'm gonna spend the rest of my life thinking about that.

[peridot-tears]

A former German friend of mine accused me of only supporting Palestine because I wish I had been there to prevent imperialism in China.

Um. Yes? So you agree? This is an imperialist project that's needlessly taking Palestinian lives?

(Personal rant, feel free to scroll past.)

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

A Well-Tempered Blade

Chapter 6: Smoke and Mirrors

Summary: Katherine has a lousy quirk. At least, that's what everyone says. After all, who would want to be able to mimic any sound they hear? That's no quirk for a hero. But Katherine's quirk is not mimicry, but something worse; something that would get her labelled a villain the second she revealed it. So to keep her family she hides her quirk, not even telling her closest friends her secret. But secrets must eventually come into the lights, and Katherine's are no exception. 1.8k/16k, no romance, angst? oc

A/N: Yay! More canon characters! Well, one specifically. I'm coming to realize that I didn't do the best job at incorporating more character interactions between the main cast of villains and Katherine, which I'm choosing to chalk up to writing this a while ago and setting the story up to move too fast to take time to see those interactions and relations. But with my excuses out of the way, hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings (will be announced by the chapter): Home invasion, I think? Let me know if I missed any.

Katherine spent the next two weeks more afraid than she had been since she first heard her parents speak about her quirk. Everyone who walked into her cubicle was an officer coming to question her. Every creak in her floor was a team of heroes waiting for her to come home so they could bring her in. She could barely relax enough to sleep.

“Heroes have caught the newest Stain copycat. Thanks to police collaboration with an anonymous source and the Rapids hero agency-” Katherine shut the news report from the day before off. She had seen the news explain the evidence used to track the villain, and the hero efforts that went into his capture. It was a lovely feeling, processing his paperwork.

The fear was beginning to wear off. If she had made it this long without being caught, it would probably be okay. That didn’t stop the guilt, though.

Sure, the man had tried to assault her. But what if he’d had a family? Had she taken him away from them? Were they worried? She’d never know. She’d cut his life short.

But she also felt a cold satisfaction in her achievement. She had kept herself safe. She had stopped an unchecked monster. And she had done it using her quirk. It wasn’t hero work, but how many young women had she saved by using her quirk? How much safer would people be, with that man gone?

She was lost in those thoughts, as she had been since her actions. A small chime went off on her still open computer, bringing Katherine back into the present. It was five o’clock. She had to go. She had another order to fill, and wanted to get started right away: the designs she had discussed with the customer were gorgeous, and impossibly intricate. She’d need all the time she could get for them.

She grabbed her bag, checking that she hadn’t left anything that needed to be brought home, before leaving the cubicle and starting the walk home. The setting sun painted the skyscrapers in a gorgeous orange hue, making it look like the buildings were burning, but without pain or fear. Her phone rang, much to her surprise. She dug the device from her bag and answered, holding it to her ear.

“Hello, Soroyan Katherine speaking, how may I help you?”

“Katherine, please, you’ve got to help me!” Lily practically screamed into Katherine’s ear through the phone. Katherine jerked it away from her ear for a moment, slowly bringing it back as she paused on the sidewalk.

“Please, Lily. Calm down. What happened?” she asked. She could hear Lily taking a deep breath on the other end of the line. Then another.

“Okay. So, you know those files I was supposed to sort? About the recent arrest?” Lily asked, anxiety clear in her shaking voice.

“Yeah, you were telling me about how you were happy to have such a big assignment.”

“Well, I brought them home earlier to work on them at home, so I could get it done early, and I brought them on a USB that I planned to bring back, but on the way some guy bumped into me and I dropped it and then he accidentally kicked it into the road, and-”

“Lily, hey, calm down. I’m on my way. What do you need me to do?” Katherine asked as she turned around, walking back to the agency. She was in for a late night, she knew. But she couldn’t just abandon Lily to do this on her own. She was supposed to be showing the new girl around, and she couldn’t say to herself that she’d done that if she walked away right now.

Shigaraki had done his job well enough, Dabi thought. Could have been a little less obvious about destroying those records, but it would definitely slow Katherine from coming home. That would give him plenty of time to get set up.

He, Toga, and Twice had been watching Katherine for two weeks now. Never again had they seen her use her quirk, even in her own home. She must have really trained herself out of using it. Dabi began planning how to get her to use her quirk. After all, she was of no use to them if she wouldn’t use it.

He signaled Kurogiri that he was ready to go, and the smoke-covered man opened a portal. Dabi stepped through, hands brushing against the rag and jar in his coat pockets. His foot hit the wooden floor just inside the front door, and he took a moment to look around.

 He’d seen the place from a distance, but had never actually been inside. He was standing in a small hallway. Two steps forward to the left was a small, clean bathroom. Across the hall from that was the bedroom. He quickly discounted both as hiding places for now.

A few paces past the bedroom the hallway opened into a large room, split into a neat kitchen on the left by a counter and a living room that led onto a small balcony to the right. Past the kitchen was a small table with two chairs. Up against a half-wall across from the table was a rolling chair and computer desk, missing only the laptop.

Traveling straight past the kitchen, dining table, and living room, Dabi came to two closed doors. One stood ahead of him, the other to his right. He opened the door in front of him, his hand coming away from the knob slightly dusty.

It was a guest bedroom, complete with a large window, double bed, and small dresser next to the bed. There was an attached bathroom with a conjoined shower and tub, as opposed to the bathroom in the entry hall with only a shower. It was the perfect place to hide, though Dabi wondered why Katherine hadn’t just taken this bedroom. It clearly didn’t see much use.

He walked out of the guest room, checking the last door he’d found. It was just a laundry closet: Washer and detergent on top, dryer on bottom, ironing board tucked into the little room on the side. With no more rooms to discover, he decided to do one last bit of research about Katherine.

The best place to start would be her actual bedroom, and he strolled right in like he owned the place. He was surprised to be met with an unmade bed and drawn blinds, seeing as how organized and bright everything else had been in the apartment.

Aside from the bed, pushed against the right wall with room on either side, there was a nightstand on the left side with a lamp, charger cord, and alarm clock. Across from the bed were two closets, and Dabi opened the nearest one quietly. No one might be home, but neighbors could still hear things through thin walls.

The first closet held nothing but clothes. A few business suits and casual outfits, two pairs of shoes, and a small dresser with three drawers. A small label on top simply labeled it as ‘UNDERGARMENTS’, and Dabi felt no need to look further. The second closet, though, was more interesting.

He opened it and found several sheaths for different kinds of blades, not a one of them empty. There were throwing stars, daggers, and swords of various cultures. Each one looked exquisite, and bore a tag near the hilt. They were all made by Katherine’s company, Sunēkuai Blades.

He picked up a sheath with throwing stars. They were shaped like a peach blossom, and barely sharp enough to cut butter. He set them down, intrigued by a long box held on a shelf above the other various weapons. He reached up, careful not to move things out of place too much, and pulled the box down.

Inside were photos upon photos. He saw images of a smiling girl with dark hair, clearly Katherine at a young age, and two others: a man and a woman. Her parents. They were all smiling, young Katherine holding a sign that read “It’s my first day of school!”

There were other things in the box, under all the photos. Dabi carefully moved the contents of the box around until he unearthed two katanas. One was in a simple brown sheath, the other in an intricate green and silver one. They had notes tied to them as well, and a picture. 

He picked up the plain katana, seeing a picture of a teenaged Katherine and her father in front of a smithy. Katherine looked sweaty in the photo, grinning and holding the very katana in Dabi’s hands. Her father was smiling behind her in pride, a hand behind her back in support. The note simply read “My first blade.” When Dabi opened the katana, he found it as sharp as anyone could ask for, if a bit clumsily made.

The second one was slightly lighter, and seemed to glint even in the dim light of the bedroom. He opened it to find it just as sharp as the first, but with some kind of green streak through it. Opening it the rest of the way, Dabi saw a green snake winding its way down the blade, seeming to spit the point from its fanged mouth. He carefully resheathed it, not wanting to leave a trace of himself if all of this somehow went south.

He glanced at the picture attached to the sheath. It was a picture of teenage Katherine, not much younger than the other photo, with her arm draped over another girl’s shoulder. This new girl had snakes for hair and unnerving yellow eyes with slit pupils. She was smiling alongside Katherine in a park, both dressed in a middle school uniform.

The note simply read, “For Sunēkuai. I think you would have liked this one. Rest well.”

Dabi put everything back almost reverently. A part of him wondered why he would bother. It wasn’t like she would notice, even if he somehow didn’t manage to get her. But he couldn’t bring himself to treat her memories with anything but respect. Perhaps it had something to do with the person herself.

As Dabi had looked through file after file on the young woman, everything had said that her quirk was mimicry. There were no files, or hints of files, that said otherwise. She had hidden her quirk from everybody, and doubtless faced ridicule for it. It spoke to her patience and resolve that she had never revealed herself, even when attempting to get into the hero course at various high schools.

Dabi shook the thoughts from his mind. He had a job to do. A job that would be made much easier if he got on with looking for information and preparing his hiding place. He closed the closet and strode from the room.

[ash-isnt-writing]

Whumptober Alternative Prompt 10, “Shaking”, 2023

Character(s) Used/Mentioned:

-Christian Ramirez (OC)

-Madir Ahearn (OC belonging to @v-3-ll-1-g-0-r-3 )

A/N: Me omw to write every single whumptober prompt i missed in 15 hours.

=====================================

Chris had just gotten home, closing the door behind him and letting out a heavy sigh, his spare hand clenching his scythe tightly. His hands were shaking from the things he’d seen.

He hated Madir for this. He hated Madir for putting him in this position, even if it was his own choice to do so. He couldn’t think about Madir anymore so he chose to return to a job that traumatised him just to distract himself.

Reaping souls was a haunting business with the things you have to see. You’d be lucky to find someone that’s died in their sleep, especially in a city like this one. It made him feel sick.

“Aww, you’re shaking. That’s adorable.”

Chris’s eyes shot up at the sound, taking a startled step back as he met Madir’s eyes, raising his scythe into a defensive position as if fully prepared to attack him. To attack the man that had caused him this much grief.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Chris questioned, his voice just as shaky as his uncertain hands.

“I still have the spare key you gave me” Madir responded, knowing with full confidence Chris didn’t have the heart to attack him - which was true, all things considered. He stepped closer, watching Chris take a step back.

Chris was trembling all over, still breathing heavily from the things he’d had to do and see just that day alone. It was rather cute, really, at least to Madir. watching fear mix with frustration in Chris’s eyes like sugar in coffee.

“Get out of my fucking house-“ Chris tried, but his voice didn’t quite have the impact he wanted it to, Madir laughing in his face, which made him grit his teeth in frustration.

“No can do” Madir chuckled, before his hand shot iut to pull Chris close, grinning darkly. “We have some things we need to.. catch up on.”

=====================================

[marleysfinest]

my ass is so predictable when it comes to dreaming, last night I had a good calibernus planning sesh and what did I dream about? giving birth

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Words for you:

Combine, medication, bed, and/or concussion

thank you my incredible friend <3 There were A LOT of these to choose from so hopefully you enjoy the ones I picked :)

Combine from the home invasion fic:

An hour later, or at least he thought it was an hour, Jamie sat on the floor of his closet, wrists tied painfully behind his back, ankles tied in front of him. The darkness of the walk-in, his likely head injury and the anxiety of being held captive combined to rob him of any ability to deduce the length of time that’s passed. 

Medication from thought i wanted love ('til you showed me what it was):

Dad arrived shortly with a cheese toastie, medication, water and an ice pack for his ankle as promised. Jamie watched wearily as his father gripped his ankle again, fright shot through him at his father’s hands on his vulnerable limb. But James’ touch was gentle as he wrapped the ice pack around his son’s injury and it should have relaxed Jamie but only made him more leery. His Dad was always suspiciously caring after an outburst after all. As he sat there being the dutiful patient under his father’s watchful gaze, every one of Jamie’s synapses were firing at him, telling him one thing: run.

Bed from earlier in the same fic:

Had he fucked something up? Is that why he was all alone and left to fend for himself and lick his wounds? Jamie shifted in the hospital bed, and agony flared from various parts of his body. His head ached, his jaw, but also just the general pain of a concussion like his brain was being squeezed in a vice. His ribs ground in his chest, sharp and tight. Overall, his entire body was painful, and his shallow breaths came faster as he tried to breathe through the pain. He tried to remember what happened, but it only caused the vice to compress tighter.

Concussion from False Confidence:

Jamie hadn’t made much sense since his concussion, his words the mumbles and slurs of someone with a signifigant head injury. But one phrase came out loud and clear. One phrase slapped Ted harder than a brisk Chicago wind in February.  Precious moment. 

Fudge. 

So Jamie had heard that and apparently been carrying it around since then, the hurt of the careless joke growing with him like a tumour.