#blurred lines series

[acid-ixx]

gets fucking stabbed by damian and my last breath still be like "it's not his fault ! he is ten and was raised to be murderous since he was born ! kid entered a household where everyone ignores my existence, i don't blame him for assuming that to be the norm and acting evil to me so that he assimilates to his new environment ! bro literally went through the worst all his life so of course the way he expresses himself is harmful to others !"

and then i get stabbed again lol

— masterlist !

OH MY GOD PLEASE 😭 the gaslighting yourself is real, i'm telling you.

unfortunately, the reader's toxic mindset of justifying everything your family does is a common scenario for every time one of them fucks up; only in the past though. the present chapters will have you slowly realize just nothing really is ever your fault. that you've never once been in the blame for the actions of your youngest brother.

but right now, i want to focus on why you just seem to let damian go about his own crazy path of targeting you. and it's either it's because you have nothing, nobody else to fight back with you, or it's purely because you allow him to.

to destroy you, to make you suffer, to make you learn that you have no place, or standing in the family. and if you do have a place, it is at the rock bottom.

this is what damian is taught: the weak should be eliminated before they fester into some type of unnecessary cancer.

you're weak, when he first saw you, when you first approached him with your tail tucked behind your legs and an invitation to hang out together with the scent of cookies wafting in the air— he knows that it is you who will make him weak.

you give him temptations to be a child, he's raised to fight against it. he ignores the unwelcomed feeling of wamth that blooms in his chest, those are feelings that gets you killed.

so it's how the story goes: he brings his sword up to your neck, and sways his hands swift enough to make a small cut to ensure that the first thing you associate him with is fear. and for someone vulnerable like you, it doesn't take much before you quickly submit to the prospect of your place beneath a trained assassin like him.

he ignores the sudden pang of his heart and the aching, gnawing dread that chews at his mind at the memory of your widening eyes and the wobble in your steps.

it's already damaging enough to have the youngest be introduced and immediately accepted into the family, but it's worse when he's significantly younger than you, a boy nearly half your age; someone you've always wanted to have, to care for, to help raise and cherish... despises you from the start, before you two even formed a connection.

someone you once called your younger brother, now became an enemy in opposing lines in a place called home.

what would've been fine-tuned jealousy towards him because he was given everything in a silver platter turned into shame that you couldn't even face him, not right after he threatened to kill you, no... and especially not after you've convinced yourself that if you couldn't even prove your worth for a young boy like him, then you really have nothing good to offer.

you give him the autonomy to think it's alright, that due to his upbringing, alongside your naive brain always justifying that your other siblings are right, and you are in the wrong— he was given every opportunity to torment you when you even go as far as being in the same room as him.

and i have my receipts on why you're just like that; all in the grace of low self-worth and self-esteem. past you reasons out that it's because it's always your fault.

you couldn't even find a way to save your mother, you couldn't even establish your place in the manor, you couldn't comfort bruce when he was still not over jason, what more could you be when all you see damian as is a young, broken child like you? that behind that veil of threats and weapons ready to attack you, is someone you knew could've been different, if he was raised right...

if he'd given you a chance to help nurture the softer, more humane part of him.

you've always wanted a younger sibling, not only from back when you were just with your mother, but also when you were introduced to the manor. because not only did it mean that you'll know how your mother felt when she raised you, but because you thought you'd have somebody by your side throughout the silent torment you've went through.

and when you're graced with one, who doesn't even consider you his older sibling; you let it be.

you let him be himself.

damian wayne, demon's granson, the son of the bat.

so many titles he's called, but never one where he's your younger brother.

it doesn't help that you justify his past, because the man you idolize, dick, does so too whenever you try to complain. his excuses are never out of malicious intent to have you suffer further— it's just that he never once actually considered you as important enough to bat an eye on, like how the rest of them treat you.

because you know that even dick has his limit towards the youngest member of the family; he just never reaches it when it comes to you.

so if you have a person allow another to act terribly towards you, but have another, a friend or family, who teaches you that it's not right, who fights by your side; it wouldn't take long for you to also learn how to defend yourself then. you'll gain confidence that you're at least not alone, that your actions are completely valid.

... but if you have an entire family that couldn't even scold the boy for leaving a scar on your neck, who brushes his mean comments about you aside, who isolates you even further with malicious words that you know becomes crueler when targeted at you—

then you have no basis for what is right, and what is wrong.

and that makes your authority, your trust in yourself dwindle like your already crumbling relationship with all the others the further you try to fight back.

that's when you learn what it's like to give up, all over again. if you accept his vidictive insults, if you know your place to turn back if you see him in the same room, if you knew from the start that sometimes trying doesn't equate to succeeding; then it'll at least numb the pain that comes after.

for the entirety of your life from when damian was introduced, that was how you coped—

but your life after the manor, after damian matures and learns softness, about empathy (that he's buried long ago during his training from when he was all but a toddler) on your situation; reading your journal entries because he still felt entitled to due to some hidden, twisted trait of possessiveness... that's an entirely different story.

would you still be as understanding as you were back in the past towards him? would you still force yourself to love the demon you saw as just a little boy? or would damian finally understand that it's too late to turn back time, to correct all his mistakes?

either way, if you were capable enough to change (at least, in his eyes), becoming an independent person (you think, huh? your place is at the manor), then maybe you could give him a chance too, to fix your relationship and build a bridge to an even stronger one.

one where you could finally baby him, like what you've desired. one where he could feel vulnerable, when he learned that it's valid to feel weak— it cuts back to the previous points: you make him weak.

and when he's out to find you after going through every single diary, every entry, after deducing that there's still a small spark in your that'll forgive him if he tries; he refuses give up any sooner if it meant replicating the same warmth he felt when he stood by your presence.

so... you wouldn't want to leave your youngest brother waiting for you, don't you?

after all, it's just like what your entries told him, right? this is what you always wanted, right?

a/n: everyone is entitled to their own feelings about how i portray damian and mc's relationship!!! i love how all of you guys have different conflicting reactions to this. it's all so complex for me, how damian sees you as someone who's weak and makes him weak (he's just a stubborn little guy), and you, who sees yourself in damian, alongside the added desire to just have someone to care for (because you want to so badly honor your mother's memory), and that person also caring for you is ARGH!!?!

i apologize for my long rambles (if anyone wants me to cut back on posts like this, just tell me), i'm sure everyone is anticipating chapter 5 and possibly (soon) chapter 6 (since the drafts, not the final work is becoming too long). but right now, all i could provide are my depictions of the reader's relationship with every member of the family. i love to churn scenarios where it feels like you're actually part of the family so i'm actually manipulating all of you guys to become attached to the characters too, just to add an extra layer of angst, hehe...

[bossthebicon]

"If you’re going to meet a girl, you should wipe the lipstick off first."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: Wednesday already, my dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Sir, I have to go to her," you yank your arm, trying to escape Nick's grasp.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He hisses as he drags you up the metal stairs. His other hand fishes around in his pocket. 

Your heels catch and you stumble up behind him. He doesn't relent. He's taking the stairs two at a time as you struggle to keep upright. Your heart is racing, your head spinning, as Joey's cries stick in your ears.

"Hansen, yeah, Fowler," he holds his phone to his cheek. "Yeah, shut up, I don't got time for that. Hey, hey, you owe me so listen. I need you to send someone out for me. Right now. Shit," he stops at the top of the stairs by a heavy metal door. 

He faces you as his hand falls from your wrist. He slides out a card and taps it on the pad next to the frame. The lock beeps. He pushes down the handle and nods you through.

"Hey, sweetheart," he follows you out into the night air, "what's the bastard's name?"

"Uh," you spin as the air whips around you and hug yourself. "Barber. Andy Barber. He's--"

"Got that. Barber." He says into the phone, then follows with the exact city where Joey is studying. You falter as he hangs up.

"Nick, sir," you near him, "how do you know where she is?"

"It's part of my job," he dials out as he speaks flatly. "We don't got time for this."

"I-- I know," you babble. Your chest twists as your hands shake around your own phone. The line was muffled minutes ago.

"Yeah, need to go. Get someone up here," He demands into the phone. He shakes his head and puts his phone away.

Your teeth chatter as you stand on the roof tarmac, arms curled around you as you gnash your teeth against the altitude. Your eyes wander to the aircraft in the painted circles. You gulp.

"It's cold," Nick says and startles you as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders.

"Oh, uh, thanks," you glance at him and pick at your sleeve.

"I got someone headed her way. A whole squad, alright?"

Your brow knits as you eye him warily.

"I know people," he steps closer and stretches his arm over your shoulders. "Trust me when I say the creep isn't going to get away with it. I'll even let you have a go before I dislocate his jaw."

"Nick," you scold.

"Don't tell me you don't wanna hit the guy. Even you," he growls.

You touch his cuff as his hand hangs off your shoulder, "I don't like violence."

"Hm, always the peacekeeper," he chides 

You're silent. Impatient. You chew your lip, forgetting the gloss painted over it.

"So... is that what happened? The old man was... attacked?" He asks.

You flinch, "what?"

"Your husband. That's who you went to see today--"

"It's not...important right now."

"You never mentioned. Just like the kid." He sniffs.

"It's my life," you shift and draw away from his arm. You sigh, "cancer. It just ate away at him. That's it. Nothing spectacular."

He sucks his teeth, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"No need for that. He's at peace. Let's not wake him."

He exhales. The door swings open and cracks the brittle tension.

"About time," Nick snips. "Come on."

You turn as a man in aerial gear marches across the roof. Nick beckons to you. You follow him to a helicopter near the edge.

He helps you in first. He climbs up behind you and checks that you're strapped in before putting a large headset over your ears. His hands linger on them as his eyes meet yours. He nods before he drops into the seat next to you.

The pilot flicks switches and you brace the edge of the seat. You've never been in one of these things. You push against the back rest and clench your jaw.

"You hear me?" Nick's voice sounds in the headset.

You peek over and nod, gulping tightly. He tilts his head, "won't be long." He reaches over and peels your grip from the seat. He holds your hand in his. "Help's already there. Waiting on us."

Your eyes glisten as the propeller spins and the whole compartment quakes. You frown and look ahead. All you can do is trust him. All you can do is hope that Joey's okay.

Why didn't you answer earlier? Why were you so concerned with yourself? It's your fault. All your fault. 

You turn your hand and clasp onto Nick's without thinking. You squeeze and hang your head. You just want her to be safe. That's what you promised.

🔷

The quick car ride isn't fast enough. You don't even bother with your seat belt. As the car brakes before the building with the sign Barber and Associates, you're already opening the door. You search around the building. There aren't any cop cars...

You trip over the curb as Nick calls your name. He catches you before you can crash to your knees. You huff and pull away from him, lifting each foot to shed your heels. You clamour across the sidewalk as he follows.

He opens the door for you and you sprint through. You can't focus as you search for the floor number on the sign. He finds it first. "Third."

You flit onward and slam your fingers into the elevator button. He stands beside you calmly, "she's fine."

"No, she needs me, Nick," you hiss as the doors open and you hurry inside. "You said you had people on their way. Where are the cops?"

"I didn't say they were cops," he hits the three button before you can. He grips your arm firmly, "I'm telling you to calm down. Your daughter doesn't need you like that."

You blanch and look at him, then at your reflection in the doors. He's right. Joey doesn't need you panicking. You take a deep breath and steady yourself.

The doors open and you stride out. Men in black stand right outside the open door with the golden letters etched in the wood. Nick keeps pace with you and approaches.

"Hansen?" He asks.

"Sent us," one of the men confirms. Nick nods and struts through the door. You trail after him.

You peer around him, your chest pounding, and you see Joey drinking from a bottle of water as she sits on a leather chair. More men stand near another door, this one shut. 

You rush to her with arms open, dropping your shoes behind you. "Josephine."

She squeezes the bottle and quickly puts it aside. She stands to meet you as you scoop her into a hug and lock her in as tight as you can. She embraces you just a desperately.

"Baby, are you okay?" You rasp. "Please, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

You rock her and she gently pulls back to look you in the face. Her eyes are glossy. She nods.

"They... stopped him." She peers over your shoulder at the men. "How..." she flicks her lashes and looks at you, "mom, who are they?"

You keep one arm around her and turn around to face Nick. He watches placidly. He bows his chin slightly.

"His friends. My boss," you gesture to him. "I'm so sorry," you turn to her again, "I was at a work thing and I--"

"A work thing?" She eyes you up and down and squints, "wow, mom," her eyes bulge, "you look hot."

You could laugh if you weren't still terrified. You shake your head. "Joey, really, you're okay?"

"Yeah," she exhales, "yeah, I was scared but... when they got here..."

Nick sidles past and speaks lowly with one of the men near the other door. He glances back and clears his throat, "excuse me, Josephine," he says, "do you mind if I borrow your mother for a minute?"

"Sure, uh," she looks slightly distressed as he waits by the door. "I'll... be here."

You caress her arm and leave her reluctantly. You near Nick, "she prefers Joey."

He hums but says nothing. One of the men reaches to open the door for him. He ushers you in ahead of him. You squeal as he snaps the door shut behind you.

A man sits behind the desk, his nose bloodied, a cut on the ridge. You gasp as Nick puts his hand on your back. "What's the matter? He's a fucking creep."

"Nick!" You cover your mouth as the man's wrists are cuffed to the arm rests. It's him. Barber. The man you heard.

"Wasn't us," the only other man in the room comments from behind the lawyer. "He was bloody when we showed up."

Your lips part and you look at Nick. He snickers, "your girl did all that."

"I..." you shake your head and drop your arms. "She used to box with her dad but... that's only exercise."

"Seems like he taught her something," Nick smirks.

"Oh my god," you utter and look at Barber. "You can't... what's going to happen?"

"Well, he's going to be a good boy and pay out her internship, write her a good review, and we're going to keep this little incident to ourselves," Nick walks up to the desk, "aren't we?"

He bends over to glare and Barber nods weakly.

"And if you wanna get a few licks in, I can give you two the room," Nick suggests.

"No, I told you," you murmur. "No violence."

He sniffs, unimpressed but backs up. He spins and approaches you again.

"Go. Spend the night with your daughter. Hell, spend the day. I'll send you a ticket back to town." He says.

"Sir?" You say.

"Look, you've taken care of me more times than I can count. She needs that right now. She needs that soft touch," he tucks his hands in his pockets as he faces you. "I can survive until you get back."

You nod as your skin speckles in relief. You can't help yourself as you throw your arms around him. You're just so happy that your baby is okay. He did that for you. You hug him snugly. He runs his hand up your back.

"Alright," he nudges you away with a chuckle. "Go, before I change my mind."

"Thank you, sir," you clasp your hands together, "thank you! I owe you."

His lips slant and his eyes drift down for just a moment. "I'll get you a room. I'll send the details."

"Sir," you put your hands over your chest. His cheek ticks. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Mm, don't thank me yet," he tuts. "You did cause quite the scene at my work party."

You deflate just slightly, "yeah, I'm... I'm sorry."

He nods to the door. You try to smile then turn. You hurry out of the room. Joey has your shoes in her hands as she waits.

"Baby," you latch onto her arm. "Let's get out of here."

"Mom," she leans into you. "I was so scared."

"I know, hun, I know," you usher her out of the room of dangerous men. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you're not entirely certain Nick won't do more than he says. You shake off the thought. "I'm here. I'll always be here for you."

[z0mbiew00d]

Southlands polycule but noones really sure who’s in the polycule and who isn’t

[artbyblastweave]

Many years ago J. Michael Straczynski wrote a miniseries for Marvel's MAX imprint called Supreme Power, which was itself a spin on the classic Marvel Faux Justice League The Squadron Supreme. And in this miniseries you've got a Flash Expy, The Blur, who in a very compelling way is like the inverse of A-train from The Boys. They're both black speedsters from impoverished backgrounds who use their powers to become walking billboards instead of going directly into conventional superheroism- at least in part because there isn't actually a lot of call for conventional superheroism. They even share a color scheme.

But unlike A-Train, whose moral core is thoroughly corroded by celebrity, Blur's apparent crass commercialism ends up being thematically linked to the fact that he's easily the most moral and considerate of the entire first wave of superheroes, because he's literally the only one of these people who's ever had to work any kind of day job, and thus the only one who's really in any way beholden to the logic of human society and its associated common courtesy.

[markofcastiel]

I was sick for 3 weeks in December so I call this my fever dream series

[lights-at-night]

if i was coherent i would write so many essays dude you should see the shit i have in my brain

[daz4i]

analog horror has becone kinda stagnant in its delivery of information i kinda want to see a series that is essentially full-on comedy or like a saturday morning cartoon with little weird details that add up to horror if you think abt them or you have to look for them carefully. no jumpscares no instruction videos no news casters. flip it around a little

[phlebaswrites]

Blurring the Lines (Between You and Me)

Summary:

The Uchiha and Senju have a long history.

(But context is everything.)

Rating: Teen And Up Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Senju Butsuma/Uchiha Tajima Word Count: 483 (Complete)

Entry for @butsutaji-week

Day 1 - January 9: War of Attrition | Temple | Samurai AU | Power Play

Part 2 of Life and Death (In These Four Walls).

Butsuma looks up at the moon that hangs low in the sky, avoiding the gaze of the man who sits next to him on the steps. Full and round, it seems pregnant with possibilities, a silver fruit dangling from the branches of a heaven that is forever out of reach.

A lie, in other words, and one Butsuma is far too old to believe.

Read the rest on AO3.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: Let's get through Monday yall.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You follow Nick back to his house. It's a long ride. You're so caught up in your anxiety that you don't even turn the radio on. The silence feeds into your nerves. 

When you park, you notice your phone light up. It's Joey. You want to answer but you can't. You're not sure you can keep your cool. 

Nick's cryptic behavior worries you. If you lose this job, you're not sure the next one will be enough to keep Joey in school. You don't put in the long hours because you enjoy scrubbing floors, you want to do the best by your daughter and your husband. 

You get out and catch up to your boss as he struts inside. He has the garment bags over his shoulder.  

"I could take those--"  

"I think I can handle it," he scoffs. 

"Sir, uh, about, er..." you stumble over your words as your thoughts tangle. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. When you sent me home--" 

"We're past that. You're back now." He opens the door and lets you through first. "So do what you're told and stop worrying."  

He shuts the door behind him and strides up to you. He dangles a dress bag on one finger. You take it as the tension strangles out any protest.  

"Go get ready." 

"Ready?" You echo thinly. 

"Big dinner. Pull yourself together." 

He sidesteps you and struts off. You look after him, confused. You sigh and carry the dress to the half-bath behind the staircase. 

You shut the door and hang the garment bag. You put your purse on the counter and sift through it. You have a tube of gloss and some mascara. Oh, some old liner that might do if you wet it. You're good stuff is at home. 

You do your best. You just need to be presentable. It wouldn't matter if you had your BB cream or some blush, you can't get rid of the wrinkles or the spots. 

Your hair. There's a comb but it's not much use. You use your fingers and find some pins in your bag. Again, nothing special, just something. 

The door handle clicks and you spin around. Nick wears his new suit. It's perfect on him. The jacket is perfectly cinched and the pants hemmed just so. 

"Can I get a bit of help?" He smirks and wiggles the paisley tie at you. 

You stare at it and take it. Your cheeks are taut. He steps into the bathroom and unfolds his collar. You loop the tie around his neck and focus on knotting it. 

"I should've asked if you needed anything else." He says. 

"The dress is very nice, it will do," you assure him and tighten the tie. "There. You're all put together." 

"And your not," he challenges. 

You meet his gaze, "I'll be quick." 

His brows flick up and he turns to unzip the garment bag. He takes out the dress and feels the fabric. He faces you again and holds it up. You gently grab it by the sleeves and pull it away. 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Nick. For tonight, call me Nick." He insists. 

"Yes, s-- Nick," you repeat as you turn and examine the velvet. 

You wait and he lingers. Finally he backs out and shuts the door.  

You ignore the mirror as you change. The dress is no better the second time. In fact, it feels tighter. Your chest is compressed beneath the fabric, your cleavage bursting. You wish he'd put an end to this already. 

You find the shoes in the bottom of the garment bag. You sit on the closed toilet and put on the heels. You haven't worn those since Joey's graduation. You don't miss the painful arch. 

You stand and tidy up your clothes. You fold them and stop before the door. You contemplate the other side before you open it. 

You step out and find Nick waiting.  He comes close and you watch him senselessly. He takes the clothes from you and sets them on the bench near the wall. 

He returns and offers his arm. His mouth is slanted in a silent taunt. Your lips pinch and you put your hand in the crook of your arm. 

He guides you down the hall and into the entry way. You feel as if you're making the walk down a plank, about to jump to your fate. Earlier when you pulled up to see your husband, you couldn't predict any of this. 

"You look good, by the way," Nick says as you reach the door. "Really good." 

Your cheek twitches. You get it. You know what he's doing. He's reminding you that he's in charge. 

"Thank you, Nick." 

He opens the door and angles you through. You focus on your feet, on not letting your ankles bend. That small task is much simpler than the unknown you find yourself wandering into. 

🔷

You enter the room of finely dressed people. Despite the new attire, the price tag that made your stomach drop, you feel out of place. The men are in ties and brocade and velvet, the women in satin and silk. The latter are all at least a decade younger than you and many sizes smaller than you. 

Nick touches the middle of your back and drags his hand down. He slips around your hips and pulls you against him, urging you across the room. A man greets him, beckoning him over with a wave of his large hand. 

You catch his stare, the question mark in his forehead as you approach. He's taller than Nick, broader too. His jaw is speckled in dark stubble and a thick line of hair covers his upper lip. He's handsome with his bold blue eyes and cleft chin. 

"Walker," Nick greets him. You glance at the woman with curly black hair on the man's arm. She's gorgeous and sips daintily from a stemmed glass. 

"Fowler. Late. Again." 

"Always here exactly when I'm needed," Nick banters. 

"Sure, we'll see what Pine says about that." 

"Pine's head is so far up his ass, I doubt he'll notice," Nicky rolls his eyes. "Aliana," he turns to the woman, "I still don't see a ring." 

"Fowler," Walker warns. 

"Forgive me. You'll get there, in time. Like me," he winks. "Oh, and this is..." 

He introduces you and reminds you that you're more than just a spectator. You force a smile.  

"Hello, nice to meet you." 

"August," Nick gestures to the larger man the the woman, "Aliana." 

The woman flutters her lashes. You sense the judgement in her gaze. It's nothing cruel, only reality. She no doubt sees your ages and is asking the same questions you would. If this was real... 

"You finally brought a date to one of these things. Might get Abnesti to shut up." 

"I'm not worried about what he has to say. Not as worried as some people should be about leaving their drinks unattended near the guy." 

They laugh and you suppress a frown at the insinuation. You had that talk with Joey. You can never be too safe. 

"He thinks he's playing spy games," August snorts. 

"Anyway, I should make the rounds," Nick says. "Act like I want to be here." 

He ushers you onward. His name comes from your back and you nearly twist your ankle as he pulls you with him. You turn and face a slender blonde man grey slacks and a checkered jacket. His features are sharp but elegant. 

"There you are. I thought you might play hooky, as you American's say." 

"I told you, I had a thing," Nick counters. "Jonathan," he offers his hand and they shake firmly. He pulls free and gestures to you, reciting your name. 

"Nice to meet you," you say and accept his hand as he holds it out. 

"A pleasure," he turns your hand and kisses your knuckles. "I must say that colour is immaculate." 

You look down and nearly flinch at the sight of your bulging bosom. You want to cover up but that would only make it more obvious. Your face burns. You're not the sort for this. You're too old, too boring. You'd rather be at home with your book. That pairs better with wine than whatever this is. 

"Krissalyn is around somewhere. She was unhappy with the rose so likely she's pestering some poor server," he drawls dully. "Stubborn, though she might let some of that go for a bit of grace." He doesn't look away from you even as he speaks to Nick, "I must ask how you met. He never mentioned a lady." 

"Oh, uh..." you peek over at Nick. 

"She likes to read. We met at a bookstore," he lies seamlessly. "She recommended a good book. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a smarty pants." 

"Ah, and what was the recommendation? I can always go for a new addition to my library," Jonathan says. 

You blink as you stare back at his expectant eyes. His irises are somewhere between jade and aquamarine. Are all Nick's acquaintances this perfect?  

"Oh nothing special, I think it was Odd Thomas," you say. You're not as convincing as Nick. 

"Dean Koontz? Yes, I've read that one. Very unique," he praises. "I am disappointed in his more recent publications." 

"Yeah, I stuck with Odd series," you reply, comfortable to stay on a topic you know well. "Did you read all of it?" 

"A few but I think I've lost track of the story," he replies. 

Nick clears his throat, "if you don't mind, I'll just be stealing my date back. I see Turner's here." 

"I didn't think you were fond of him," Jonathan remarks. 

"Not really but who's really fond of who in this room," he leads you away. 

He approaches another man. This one is flustered as he tugs at a lock of his sandy brown hair. His blues eyes rove over the room frantically. 

"Turner," Nick calls to him. "You didn't bring another mole, did you?" 

"She wasn't a mole." 

"She stole your clearance pass," Nick retorts. 

The other man huffs, "please, I don't want to hear it." 

You feel bad for the man. Nick's teasing doesn't seem in good nature.

"Hi," you interject and introduce yourself. "You work with Nick?" 

"Cole," he smooths his hair then fumbles with his suit button before offering his hand. "Uhh, pleased to meet you." 

"Of course. There's so many people here," you peer around. "I don't think I was prepared for this." 

"Me either," his shoulders lose a bit of tension. 

"I'm the kinda person to find a quiet corner, you know?" You say. "Let everyone else get distracted." 

Nick's fingers curl into your hip. Is he trying to rein you in? Well, he didn't really give you guidelines. 

"Yeah, uh, reminds me of a family reunion," he chuckles nervously. 

"Oh, I don't miss those," you smile. "My husband's family was so judgy. I couldn't even make jello without a full critique." 

"We should keep moving," Nick says. 

"Oh, sorry, I don't want to keep you," Cole says apologetically, "Nick, sorry. I didn't mean to." 

Nick grunts and leads you away. You stop and make him do the same. "You're not very nice to your coworkers," you say. 

He snickers, "oh, I'm not." 

"Well, not really, but I hope you don't mind if I try to be." 

"You do whatever you like, sweetheart," he pets your arm and you wince. Your bag vibrates. Again. You've been ignoring the jittering, hoping it's just your nerves. 

"I'd like to know why you brought me here," you say. 

His grin stays firmly in place, "I told you that. You're my plus one." 

You swallow down his reply. He's not going to say it. He's going to draw this out and make you squirm. 

"Nick, might you point me to the ladies?" 

He squints and his cheek dimples. He points past you, "down there. I can show you--" 

"I'm sure I can find my way," you pat his hand as it lingers on your arm and you step out of his reach. 

You turn and walk away. You just need a moment to catch your breath and to figure out why Joey's still calling. It has to be something important. 

You find the restroom and lock the door. You pull out your phone. Another call comes in as you unlock the screen. You answer and quickly put it to your ear. 

"Hi? Josephine?" 

The speaker scuffs, then it sounds like the phone falls. You turn up the volume. You cup your hand over your other ear and listen. 

"Mr. Barber," Joey's voice is shrill and wobbly, "I think I should--" 

"Shh, shh, shh," the low scratching hushes barely reach you. "It's okay, Josie," the deep voice cooes, "you're doing fine. Have I told you that?" 

"Thanks, but I think... sir, please, sir..." she begs as you hear the struggle in her tone. "Can you just..." 

"It's okay. I just want you to know how much I appreciate you," he purrs. "You're a very smart girl, huh?" 

"Mr. Barber," her words crack. 

"Call me Andy, baby," you hear a kissing noise. "It's okay, just relax." 

"No, no," she grits her teeth. "I'm-- don't, please." 

"I'm not hurting you, am I? I'm being nice, baby." 

You stare into your own eyes as you glare at the mirror, in disbelief and horror of what you're hearing. Barber. Andy Barber. That man she told you about from her internship. Her boss. And you don't need to be able to see to know what he's doing. To your daughter. 

"I'm coming, Joey," you hiss and keep the phone to your ear. 

You twist around and storm through the door. You stride out and through the room full of babbling guests and clinking glasses. Your name comes from behind you but you don't turn back. 

"Where are you going?" Nick latches onto your elbow and spins you around. You have to keep from slapping him as your eyes fill with tear. Josephine is crying. She's crying for you. 

"Mom..." 

His eyes search your face and he wraps his hand around yours. He pulls the phone to his ear and listens. He doesn't look away. His jaw ticks. 

He keeps a hold of your hand and forces the phone away from his ear.  He yanks you after him as he charges for the door. 

"Let's go," he snarls. 

[artekai]

OC-tober (late) Day 1: Fave OC

Here's some old art of my favorite little guy I never posted. You can really date it by my old url, his hairstyle, the artstyle, and the fact that its caption was originally supposed to be "RIP the internet, Artekai would've loved you 💔"

Alt w/o the black and white filter under the cut

[antihibikase-archive]

Guy who is Every Protagonist Ever

[whattadroid]

watched After Yang and feeling absolutely destroyed by the implications of it all !!!!

[whiskeynwriting]

7/3 Update

Hi my babies!

Here's my newest update! I have the links for the pieces that I've posted today, as well as details on what I'll be working on for the next two weeks!

There's also some important info. regarding my ongoing series at the very end, which means I'll be detailing the rest of MBFD, Red String, and Insatiable. As well as the beginnings of Blurred Lines part two!

Today I have for you...

"Love Is a Sin" Part Two

MBFD: Chapter 12 - Promises For the Future

For the next two weeks, I will be working on...

Red String: Chapter 11

And will have one of the below one-shots ready, as well!

"Better Off in My Hands" König x Female Reader

"Recovery" Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC "Bones"

"Pretty Boy" John "Soap" McTavish x Scottish!Female Reader

General Series Updates

MBFD | We are currently at 12/15 chapters. This will be wrapping up quick!

Red String | This series only has two chapters left! I plan on finishing these up in the next few weeks.

Insatiable | Once MBFD and Red String are finished, I will be returning to this series and will not be making moves on any other series until this one is finished!

Blurred Lines Pt. 2 | This series will begin once the above ones are finished. Unfortunately, that's looking like Jan. 2024. But who knows! There's a good chance it'll be here in just a few short months, too (:

Going forward, I'd like to only write one series at a time. Completing multiple at once is just too stressful lol.

As always, I appreciate each and every one of you 🥰 Much love sweeties❤️

[retiredcultistredux]

Prince fluff please be quick kirby and hyness are in danger.

Also, good luck with Ester.

Prince Fluff: "Yeah, I know--"

He rolled his eyes before scoffing, which led into him ranting as he ran down the hall.

[...Yeesh.]

[girlishfrenzy]

say what you will about the genre of "AA/AAA shooter where You Are The Bad Guy. Would That Be Fucked Up Or What" from the 360/PS3 era but at least far cry 2 had the courage to have it end in "you're a worm and worth less than shit. kill all of your friends and then yourself" instead of any real vindication or catharsis