#jo draws her obsessions

[s0lairee]

"See You Later" and "Last Man In The World" by The Band CAMINO are Milo and Sweetheart coded

-from @redactedbloop

you're SO real for this + thank you for the song suggestions!!

[goldengalore]

Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[mukuuji]

💕Art Fight 2023 Result💕 2/3

Linariel! @apollinariafh

Ralanthir!

V!

Rögnarún! @armentarius

Catalina!

Sunakhai-jo and Cicero! @areggo

Grandma Mimanu and Mukuuji!

Romeave and Bernadette!

Armirion!

Filleanil! @choccy-zefirka

→ to be continued →

[fizzyxcustard]

Covert Eyes (21)

Prologue| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery, abduction, hostage situation.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy is now working for MI-5, after being recruited by Ros. But will her involvement with Lucas cause even more problems and heartbreak?

Official soundtrack list:  here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.

The first day back was quiet, slow and fairly uneventful. Amy remained with Tariq, scouring CCTV footage from a new case that had landed on the main desk of section D. Lucas was in a three hour meeting with Ros, Jo and Harry, discussing the Robert Spiller case. 

“Lunch time in a bit,” Amy said, swivelling on her chair, in her usual child-like manner.

“You are obsessed with food,” Tariq chuckled. “Are you sure Lucas feeds you enough at home?” 

“I know my priorities, and food is one of them.” With that, Amy opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a Mars bar from a multi pack. “Want one?” 

Tariq chuckled again. “Go on, then. I was supposed to be starting back at the gym tonight. Looks like I’ll have to forego another day.” 

“Come on, one chocolate bar won’t hurt you.” 

Once Lucas’ meeting was finished, he dashed out of the room and over to Amy’s desk. He perched on the table next to her, looking down as she smiled up at him from her chair. His heart filled with so much love for her, that he knew he’d never felt anything like this before. Whenever her large, green eyes focused on him, he found himself dissociating from the world around him. He reached out and took her hand, holding it for a few seconds, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. Then his thumb grazed her engagement ring. 

“I’m going to be home late tonight,” Lucas said. “I’ve got a fair bit to do on Spiller, and Harry’s asked me to brief the Midlands team who are going out tonight on surveillance. Will you be okay going home on your own?” 

“Of course I will. I’m a big girl, after all.” 

Lucas sighed. “Aim, I just worry, that’s all.” 

“Come on, let’s go and grab something to eat. I think I’ve driven Tariq mad keep talking about food.” 

“You’ve got that right!” Tariq’s playful voice came from across the room as he walked away, ready to make another mug of coffee. 

***

Amy left the office around 5:15pm that evening with Tariq and Ruth. All three of them ventured out into the cold air, pulling their scarves and gloves on tighter. They separated, going in different directions. Amy continued on towards Lambeth Bridge, crossing over it, weaving between fellow commuters and tourists. The sky was pitch black and littered with silver stars, as if someone had thrown glitter against a silk backdrop. 

Amy took her phone from her pocket and saw a new message from Lucas. 

Be safe. I love you. Xxx

Whenever he said or wrote those words ‘I love you’, Amy still felt a slight pang of disbelief amongst her excitement. Thankfully, that voice which had always boldly told her she would never be enough, was gradually turning into a whisper. 

She looked out across the river at the London Eye, watching the colours change. One day she would come out early, grab a coffee, and sit down at the riverside and draw it; she’d already planned it all in her mind. Maybe even draw Big Ben and Parliament. Amy had always liked coming out into London when it was early and few people were yet roaming the street. She felt comfortable and safe, being more alone and less likely to be disturbed. 

***

Lucas took the underground back to his and Amy’s flat. For the duration of the journey, Lucas flicked through photos of himself and Amy. A few of them were from New Year up in Coventry, with Amy’s brother in law and nephew photobombing in the background of one, and in another, Amy’s dad had been caught to the side, his eyes closed and his mouth puckered, just ready to take a sip of beer: not the most flattering of poses. His favourite was still a photo of them snuggled up on the sofa together, Amy with her head on his shoulder, grinning childishly. They’d only been together two months or so when he took this photo, and already they both looked happy. 

It was around seven weeks away from their one year anniversary, and Lucas had begun thinking of gift ideas. He had already brought her jewellery for Christmas. And Amy’s birthday was also approaching, being the last day of January. Lucas had been taking mental notes of items Amy had mentioned, like a pair of tartan Converse she been eyeing on their last shopping trip. Then there was Valentine’s Day! It was all coming together in one swoop. However, Amy’s training was due to start the second week of February, so Valentine’s and their anniversary would need to be celebrated over their available weekends. 

It had been strange that she had not text him that evening since leaving Thames House. Normally if one of them was in the office and the other at home, they would text back and forth. Their texts were usually about what meals were planned for dinner and what film they would be watching, with some playful banter in between. 

Upon the walk from the underground station to their street, Lucas checked his phone. No new messages. 

Maybe she had been tired and went for a nap ahead of him returning home. Possibly? But doubtful. It was rare, if not completely out of character, for Amy to not text him while they were apart. 

As Lucas turned his key in the lock and opened the door to the flat, he was surprised to see that no lights were on. Normally if Lucas returned and Amy was already there, she would leave a lamp on in the hallway, which cast a faint light through into the kitchen and dining area. 

Immediately he sensed that something was amiss. It was just past eleven at night, so Amy was probably in bed, either reading, scrolling on her phone, or sleeping. 

Lucas went to the bedroom. Dark and empty. 

He called her name and stepped into the bathroom. Nothing. 

Lucas took his phone from his pocket and found Amy’s number and called. 

“The person you are calling is not available…”

Lucas growled and then called Harry. 

“Lucas? Is everything alright?” Harry Pearce’s professional yet concerned voice came. 

“Have you requested Amy go back in?” 

“No, why?” 

“She’s not at home. All the lights were off and she hasn’t told me she’s going anywhere, which isn’t like her.” 

“Maybe she’s met up with a friend. There are many reasons she might not be home. Try not to worry.” 

“Thanks, Harry,” Lucas said, sighing in frustration. He knew her. Amy would never have left the flat without leaving the lamp on, and certainly would never have disappeared so late and not told him. Even if she had bumped into a friend on the way home, for instance, she would have still text Lucas to let him know she would be late returning home. 

The only other person who Lucas could think of who might have seen her was Debbie from her old work place. But Lucas didn’t have her number to contact. For a minute, he sat down on the bed, on Amy’s side and looked at her bedside table. Her current reading book, an empty mug, a Tinkerbell figurine, a black Moleskine journal for her doodles. 

Of course no one would believe him at this point that Amy was missing; no one knew her patterns like him. He picked up her purple pyjama bottoms and felt dread fill him to the core. Something was definitely wrong. Even if no one could yet see it. 

“Where are you, angel?” he whispered. “Tell me where you are.” 

By the time it had turned midnight, Lucas knew with absolute certainty that Amy was missing. He grabbed his Belstaff jacket from the hallway, and picked up his keys off the small table next to the letter rack. At the front was an electricity bill that had come that morning. Lucas eyed their names: Miss. A. Holland and Mr. L. North. She’d been so happy when their first joint mail had come, giggling happily. 

“One day, not too far away, and it’ll say Mrs. A North.” Something so simple had made her so ecstatic. It was in those moments, when something so simple made her smile, that Lucas fell even more deeply in love with her. 

Back on the Grid, Lucas logged on to one of the computers. Only one or two people flitted past him, disappearing down corridors, until a familiar face appeared from around the edge of one of the computers. 

“Malcolm?” Lucas exclaimed.

“You’re in late.” The middle aged man was shocked to see Lucas in the office so late of a night. “Are you back for the Spiller case.” 

“I think Amy’s missing,” Lucas told him. “She never came home tonight. I got back and the flat was empty and there were no lights on. She always leaves the lamp on in the hallway when I get in after her.” 

“Maybe she forgot…” 

“Malcolm, I know her. I live with her. She hasn’t text me all evening, which is unlike her. We constantly text. Can you run all recent footage in the area and track her phone?” 

Malcolm started by opening Amy’s employee record. Her photo filled the screen, and as it did, Lucas smiled sadly. The memory of her lying unconscious in hospital surfaced. His beautiful Amy. His wife-to-be. The future Mrs. Lucas North. 

“What’s her mobile number?” 

Lucas reeled off her number by memory, and Malcolm entered the number into the tracking programme, whilst he run her photo against all CCTV in London. Amy’s photo remained locked on the monitor in the left hand corner as random faces appeared and disappeared, within milliseconds, hundreds of faces being analysed. 

“Her phone was last monitored by a local cell tower at 5:32pm. Coordinates show that she was at South Bank…”

“Heading for the train home,” Lucas interrupted. “That must have been when I sent her my last text message.”

“Her phone has no reception and hasn’t been used since, not even on the Wi-Fi.” 

Terror racked through Lucas and he eyed the faces which were still flipping, none of them staying on screen for longer than a quarter of a second. A blur of eyes, noses, skin colours and hairstyles. “Come on, angel,” he whispered. “Come on! Give us something.” 

A match appeared on the screen; a scene of Amy walking past a pub enlarged on the screen. An address appeared and the coordinate of the building. “South facing camera from the front door of The King’s Head…”

The rest of Malcolm’s words seemed to dissolve away as Lucas began writing down the address of the pub from the screen. “What time was this?” 

“5:40.”

“Just before she got to the underground station. Did your search then include all the underground lines?” 

“Yes.”

“So she didn’t get on a train because she would’ve been picked up on the cameras. Can you check all the vehicles parked in that street and also within a half mile radius, see if anything stands out? And…” Lucas’ voice broke and he hung his head, resting back on the desk behind him. 

“We’ll find her,” Malcolm reassured. 

All Lucas could see in his mind was Amy in his arms, and blood staining his hands and shirt. He could hear her whimpers as he held her, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. There was no way he could let that happen again. It was his duty to protect her, first and foremost. Fuck everyone else. Only Amy mattered. 

“This has got to be connected with Sarah. Why else would anyone target her?” Lucas asked, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Even in death and the bitch wouldn’t leave him alone. 

An hour later and Harry and Ros had arrived, both with a coffee in hand to attempt to wake them. Harry immediately approached Malcolm, who was sifting through all the vehicle registrations that had been in the vicinity of where Amy was last seen. 

Meanwhile, Lucas was sat at Amy’s desk. 

“Is he absolutely sure Amy is missing?” Harry enquired, whispering to Malcolm. “Could he be jumping the gun on this one?” 

Malcolm sighed. “I wouldn’t have called you in, Harry, if I didn’t feel there was something wrong. Amy was last seen here,” and with that, Malcolm pointed to a map on the screen. “CCTV footage caught her walking past The King’s Head, approaching the underground station. Then she went out of shot. None of the underground cameras saw her. She must have disappeared in that street.” 

Ros stood next to Lucas, remaining silent. She felt sadness at the sight of him with his head held low. Next to the time when Amy had been shot, Ros had never encountered Lucas looking so beaten down. 

“I’m not going to say it, Ros, but you know I’m thinking it,” Lucas sighed. 

“I know you all too well by now, Lucas. Of course you’re thinking it. And you still blame me for recruiting her.” 

Lucas stared at Amy’s empty Winnie the Pooh mug on the desk and felt as if his whole chest were compressing, about to implode. 

“You shouldn’t be here. We’ll take this from here. Go home.” 

Lucas looked up at Ros, his ice blue eyes full of turmoil. “How can I go home? I need to find her.” 

Harry walked over. “Ros is right. You can’t be working on this. You’re far too close to her.” 

“And that’s exactly the reason I should be working on this. I knew as soon as I got home that something was wrong. I know her behaviour, her ways. You need me to be on this. You barely know her yet.” 

“Lucas…” Harry began sternly. 

“No, Harry! She’s almost died once because of me, and now I know in my gut that this is connected to Sarah again. I’ve pulled her too far into my life, and it’s constantly putting hers at stake. I should never have got involved with her. I shouldn’t have ever spoken to her in the café and just ignored that want to get to know her…” Tears fell down Lucas’ cheeks in quick procession, and he put his hands to his face, weeping behind them. 

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @knittastically @middleearthpixie @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @meganlpie @luna-xial @evenstaredits @missihart23 @quiall321 @sazzlep @lemond57 @rachel1959 @mrsdurin @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @bookworm-with-coffee @danzalladaggers

[leianaberrie]

Season 6 pisses me off so bad. The way that season had so much shit introduced to it and just rushed through storylines, never explored them and just dropped others is infuriating. Like why introduced Sarah Salvatore and the flashback about Damon killing her mom if there was never gonna be a resolution to that? That actually would’ve been interesting to see Damon actually be confronted by Sarah. But oh no that would involve a plot where Damon is actually dealing with consequences.

The Gemini Coven

Mama Salvatore

The Heretics

All this shit being introduced and it didnt go any where.

To me Lily should’ve never been introduced.

It’s like they sidelined Sarah for Lily

And the Parkers for the Heretics.

And I have a theory on this.

Sarah would’ve made Damon look like the monster he is.

Whereas Lily creates more manpain episodes for Damon.

Same with the Parkers. They would’ve revolved around Kai and Bonnie. Whereas the Heretics includes the Salvatores. And Plec can’t have that.

It’s kind of amazing that they introduce Sarah with this incredible back story that connects the two brother and their past and their legacy… and put her in a D story with Enzo and Matt. They even model Sarah after human-Elena with the straight hair and jeans and they’re clearly expecting us to draw parallels between her humanity and the brothers being at odds over her … and do nothing with it. It’s crazy.

I completely agree that they shied from giving her story a proper resolution because it would highlight just how horrific Damon is… but that begs the question of why they created the storyline in the first place? And the same thing happened in season 5 by the way: they give Damon this Augustine back story where he’s been systematically traumatizing this family for generations… he murders Aaron, Elena’s newest bestie… and nothing. Crickets.

It’s pathetic how immature the writing around Damon is. The focus should be on moving his character forward, showing him grow and get better… but Julie can’t bring herself to do that because that would mean admitting how horrific he was in the beginning. So we have this kind of Retroactive Redemption where they insert reasons to woobify him:oh look, he was tortured by mad scientists, oh look his dad killed his pet turkey and was abusive, oh look his mom was a bad mom… And a lot of energy is directed towards this retconning of backstory and not moving his character forward.

There could have been room for Lily and Sarah if they were going to use Lily to give Damon a proper redemption arc - where they show that yes, Lily was horrible but he’s grown enough to forgive her, passing on the forgiveness he’s received from so many others. And to reverse parallel this, Sarah doesn’t owe him forgiveness and he never gets it from her and he has to live for that. And it would have been the perfect ending for him to die for her (and Stefan), his family, and not Elena the woman he's been obsessed.

The heretics were such a joke because they introduce them as this frightening combination of two powerful creatures - and the first one dies at the start of season 7 just like any other random vampire. And I can't wrap my head around writing off the entire Parker family. They build up Joshua to be an insidious antagonist in so many subtle ways and he just dies without any resolution with any of his children. His murder attempt of Jo is just swept under the rug.

[beezelarts]

Okay, so I’m posting this already because I have so many other projects that I’m currently working on and I’m afraid that I’d forget to share it if I waited.

I’m a huge fan of every Hangster fanfiction that involves the Seresins and their farm in Texas so I decided to draw how I imagine them (or at least 1 version).

So far, I have Jake’s parents and one of his many older siblings, his only sister. Enjoy!

As you can see those are Jake’s parents Joanne and Oliviero.

Oliviero is Italian so all of his children can speak at least a little bit Italian.

When Jake’s grandparents were still alive they’d visit them every summer and every winter in their little house near the french border.

Oliviero flirts with Jo (only he gets to call her that) in Italian and blushes when she flirts back. (His children understand every word and suffer psychological trauma.)

Since he’s technically European he refuses to call football “soccer”.

When Jake first came out to his family he wasn’t exactly… happy about it BUT his wife refused to let him sleep in their bed (“That includes NO SEX, Oliviero.”) so he caved after one week and refrained from disowning his youngest.

He only started to respect Bradley when the latter wins an arm wrestling match against him.

He gave Bradley the shovel talk.

Now Joanne:

She met Oliviero when she was on vacation in Italy.

The Seresin farm is technically hers (therefore actually the “Grant farm”).

She’s a simp and is obsessed with her husband’s ass. (Again, the Seresin-siblings are traumatised.)

She loves being a momma and grandma.

She’s a great cook and sometimes she cooks some of her mother-in-law’s recipes. (Oliviero has tears in his eyes because deep down he’s a softie.)

She seems like a sweet lady but she’s actually very scary: After Bradley got the shovel talk from Jake’s dad (and Coyote before that) she took him for a walk and showed him an idyllic clearing in the middle of the woods nearby. Then she turned to Bradley and said, “this is where we bury our enemies. Don’t hurt my baby boy.” She proceeded to kiss Bradley on the cheek and went back to the farm. When Oliviero saw them coming back he shot Bradley a compassionate look. Joanne’s father had done the same with him when he had asked for her hand. Don’t mess with the Seresins/Grants !

And here is Jake’s sister Jenn with her husband Björn:

She met Björn when he started working on the farm. They did the deed in the barn and she got pregnant and he asked her to marry him. (Oliviero didn’t like it.) Now, they’ve been married for almost twelve years and have three children (and a fourth on the way). Björn still works on the farm. Jenn is a trauma surgeon.

Okay, phew, that’s a lot of headcanon but I felt the need to share.

EDIT (I forgot to mention):

During Jenn’s first pregnancy Björn gained a little bit of weight “out of solidarity for his wife”. (Back then, Jake might have had the tiniest crush on him. Nobody can blame him. Björn has the perfect dad bod :3)

[gatheringbones]

[“Norwegian academics Cecilie Høigård and Liv Finstad write that the sex worker’s vagina is ‘a garbage can for hordes of anonymous men’s ejaculations’. We once witnessed a sex worker in an online feminist discussion being asked:

What is the condition of your rectum and the fibrous wall between your rectum and your vagina? Any issues of prolapse? Incontinence? Lack of control? You may discover that things start falling down/out when you’re a little older. Are you able to achieve orgasm? Do you have nightmares?

Such interrogation and commentary feels far from sisterly. It doesn’t comfort or uplift sex workers to know that our being likened to toilets, loaves of bread, meat, dogs or robots is all part of a project apparently more important than our dignity. Feminist women describe us as ‘things’ for which one can purchase a ‘single-use license to penetrate’. They gleefully reference the ‘jizz’ we’ve presumably encountered and our ‘orifices’ and tell us to stick to ‘sucking and fucking’ and leave feminist policy discussions to ‘those of us who read the facts’.

Sex workers are associated with sex, and to be associated with sex is to be dismissible. As Jo Doezema writes, within anti-prostitution feminism

the echo … of the pornographic is notable. The prostitute not only lacks … she is lack. What [these] feminists most want of sex workers is that they close their holes – shut their mouths, cross their legs – to prevent the taking in and spilling out of substances and words they find noxious.

Sometimes feminists’ jibes are subtler than calling us ‘holes’, and these responses have much in common with the ways Victorians disciplined prostitutes into ‘appropriate’ modes of femininity and sexual continence. Contemptuous articles link sex workers with ‘trivial’, feminine-coded practices such as fashion, shopping, and selfies, or mock sex workers’ discussions of ‘empowerment’. In an article expressing her feminist objections to the sex trade, one journalist writes that young women who ‘dress like slags’ in ‘tiny skirts’ deserve not to be taken seriously. Rejecting a woman because of her appearance is simple misogyny, based on the idea that women who embody a particular kind of femininity are stupid, shallow or somehow inferior. The focus on feminine frivolities draws on pre-twentieth-century depictions of the prostitute as deviant and degraded in her rampant femininity, obsessed with luxury goods and sex. Through this lens, it’s easy for non-prostitute feminists to portray sex workers as having no political literacy at all. (Indeed, it is likely that a reviewer of this book will report that we claimed the sex industry to be empowering – and a conduit, presumably, to shoe shopping.)

Sex, in these discussions, is positioned as something intrinsically too special to be sold – something intimate reserved for meaningful relationships. Implicit in this view is the sense that sex is a volatile substance for women and must be controlled or legitimised by an emotional connection. One young feminist, for example, writes disapprovingly that sex work is increasingly acceptable to other young feminists because of ‘hookup culture’, adding, ‘It’s old-fashioned these days – almost prudish, perhaps – to believe that sex is somehow … inherently linked to your emotions or necessarily intimate.’ Yet for many people, sex can indeed be recreational, casual, or in some way ‘meaningless’. The meaning and purpose of sex varies wildly for different people in different contexts or at different times in their lives. The sense that sex is intrinsically, always special rebounds on women, who are disproportionately seen as losing something when they have sex that is ‘too casual’.* It is no coincidence that men who sell sex are not the focus of the same kinds of anxieties – men are seen as able to have casual, meaningless, or transactional sex with much less risk to their ‘essential selves’.

In the UK, women ‘rescued from brothels’ are still sent to live with nuns. The ultimate fallen women are sent to ‘restore their dignity’ among the ultimate chaste women. Women ‘diverted’ from the sex trade in the twenty-first century are overwhelmingly taught traditionally ‘feminine’ forms of employment – especially garment manufacture, but also baking, candle-making, and jewellery-making. Motifs of purity are common in the jewellery produced by such projects.”]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

[non-stop-imagines]

“The Absent and The Invisible”- 🐹 anon

Oh, I'm excited about this one!! Here's the little prequel/background story part I have so far 😊

(Hint: Older Brother!Max x Younger sister!Reader)

_______

January 2010 (Yn: Age 7; Max: Age 12)

You poke your head into Max's room at your dad's house, quietly watching him pack his things for karting practice. You were staying with your dad for a week, an agreement made between your mom and Jos that allowed you to see your siblings a bit more often then if you only lived in South Africa with your mom. Half of whatever break that came up in your school schedule, right now being the later half Winter Break.

"Are you getting ready for karting practice again?" You draw out the whine in your voice as you shuffle your way into his room and flop onto his bed.

"Yes. Why are you in my room?" He answers bluntly without looking at you, making sure he has everything he needed, which required extra equipment due to the extremely cold Dutch winter.

"Because. Why are you always karting?" You pick up the book that was lying closed on his bed a flip through it, making yourself bounce on his mattress.

"Because I like to. And I want to be the best and drive in Formula 1 and to do so I need to practice." He zips up his bag and then walks over to you on his bed to pluck his book from your hands. "Why are you in my room?"

"I wanted to play a game." You were unphased by the loss of the book in your hands, still bouncing on the bed.

"Why not ask Victoria?" Now fully ready for practice, Max stood with his arms crossed watching you unamused.

"Because she's on the phone with her friends, like always. And your more fun to play with because you get angry when you lose." You stop bouncing when Max points you off of his bed, straightening up his covers once your off and twisting in his desk chair. He though about it, and the small soft spot he had for his youngest sister kicked in.

"What game?" Max went back over to his bag, giving it a light kick as he waited for your answer.

"Operation." Your answer was bright and chipper, which was followed by the completely contrasting boom of Jos' voice calling Max down to leave for practice.

"Fine, we'll play before bed. Now, out of my room." You happily bound out of his room while he gathers his things and closes his door behind him, responding to the second call from his father.

"Thank you, Max!" You head to your room to pull out the game and practice while he heads the opposite direction to go downstairs and meet Jos by the door.

_____

"Max..." The sing-songy tone in your high pitched voice floats into Max's room, making him roll his eyes when the game box appears in his door. You then appear behind the box, eyes widened and lips in a pout. "You promised."

"I know... Fine. One game and then you go." You happily skip into his room and bring setting up the game on his floor, giving him time to pause the game on his Nintendo DS and mentally prepare for playing the board game that his sister was oddly obsessed with.

"Okay, I'll go first." You slowly, and surprisingly steadily, reach into what you deemed was the easiest, and pulled out the rubber band, dropping it into the tray that was off to the side of the board and handing the tweezers to Max. To be completely honest, you guys never looked at the instruction ls for the game, but merely came to a consensus on how to play that works until someone is losing and then opens up for cheating.

"Of course you went for the easy one." Max attempts to go for the butterfly piece in the stomach, but the irritating beep from the tweezers hitting the edge of the cavity indicated the end of his turn, forcing him to reluctantly relinquish the toy tweezers.

"I had to make it harder for you." You go for the same piece as your brother and effortlessly lift it out of its cavity and drop it into the tray. "And that is why I'm gonna be a surgeon. And your just gonna drive cars."

"Formula 1 is more than just 'driving cars'." Max goes completely quiet as he goes for the water pail piece, successfully pulling it out and dropping it into the tray. "Ha!"

"What are you two doing up?" Jos' booming voice from Max's door made both of you jump and turn towards him. You start to stutter out an answer when Max speaks up.

"I promised I would play a game with her before bed." You hadn't noticed, but Max seemed to subconsciously move his body between you cleaning up the board game pieces and your guys' father's ster stature.

"It's well past your bedtime. And I'm sure once your hard work pays off and your making millions from being the best driver in Formula 1, your sister would've forgotten all about you not playing a board game with her." Jos waved you to him and towards your room, harshly flicking off Max's bedroom light as he leaves the door frame.

You never did quite forget about not being able to play with your brother.

[chthonic-mommy]

wanted to start VtM posting for a while cus it makes me DRAW like nothing before

here she is in her full glory, my Ventrue, Joanne Carpenter, Jo for short. Defence attorney, cane user (she broke her knee in uni and it never healed well), autistic ENTJ-INTJ lesbian (heavily inspired by Miranda Priestley). She is British but lives and works in New York (where our chronicle takes place in 2003). Her parents were obsessively Christian and she will never recover. She hates being untidy, always wears the same gray suits or long skirts (she owns like thousands of them, in a different shades of gray) and somehow fell for my friend’s Nagaraja woman who smells bad and whose hands are always a lil bit bloody.

[pinkandpurple360]

Okay, so for some reason when I started reading your post about octavia and Fizz being opposite but similar 'n' all, I instantly thought about Blitzø and Fizz adopting her, and quickly scrolling down it appeared that it was ALSO the point you were getting at!

And, like, gay dads adopts late-teenage girls from unknowing, bad, families, is a Trope that sound awesome.

And then you got one of those girls becoming hitman while the other becomes librarian/writer or something, and they're besties and spend lots of time together excepted when one got a contract or the other has a tense moment with her publisher or something, but sometime having a hitman bestie is quite useful, and sometime having a decent writer that looks like an ordinary person too.

And you got big sister hitman always here to help, with little sister writer/librarian always here to listen.

And two sad dads that could not believe their girls will end up their lives with another girl. (I don't know enough of octavia to ship her, so I make her aro, but not ace.)

I’ve created this semi dysfunctional half goth half clown family in my head and now I’m so attached to them I can’t undo what is done.

Gay clown dads with unresolved “something” between them adopt sardonic goth girls who have a friendship? Sign me up.

Octavia is sooo writer-coded, she has so many opinions, and I also love the idea that she does digital art on her tablet. If you ever annoy her she draws you really ugly and posts it on her blog, then if you try take it down she threatens to sue and serve you with a subpoena, cites her right to artistic expression (guess where she learned that from)

Via having tension with her publisher could be such an interesting avenue, it reminds me of the scenes in Little Women between Jo and the book publisher Mr Dashwood. Her book is only released on the condition that it end in the main character having a romance, because it was seen as improper for her to be a “spinster” —- it’s misogyny but also, something else called amatonormativity

This way of thinking values romantic, monogamous pairings above all else, and elevates sexual relationships as higher in value than platonic ones when this is rarely the case. It makes people feel they have to endure even toxic relationships just for the ‘normalcy’ of having a monogamous nuclear family. It also encourages attitudes of running off with some romantic interest and leaving platonic relationships behind. Since to some, romance and sexual relationships can save you from your troubles and is the ultimate goal.

Sound familiar?

It’s because this is the crutch of what happened to Stolas, the attitude of what made him maintain the lie, force the toxic relationship to stay together, and seek out sexuality as a way to escape it all. Because he thinks it’s the answer to his unhappiness.

Funny enough actually, Frozen is one of the most famous animated films to criticise this idea and stomp it out. Anna realises her love for her own flesh and blood Elsa is worth much more to her than any romance either with Hans or Kristoff. And this is incidentally where they based much of the Goetia themes (allegedly) especially with Andre being a walking Frozen reference…

Soooo yeah Octavia is now a massive Greta Gerwig stan because I said so, her favourite actresses are Winona Ryder and Fiona Shaw, she is scathingly critical of amatonormativity. Fizz had told her about the Barbie movie and how it “changed” his entire worldview and is deeply personal to him for some reason that he won’t say. Something to do with the dolls theme. She didn’t believe it at first, and was repulsed by saturated feminine colours, but then it awakened something in her as well. Feminism, and more critique of romance obsession.

She is someone who is now valuing friendship honesty, consent, and trust above all else. She and Loona are finally exploring social events together. Making friends. At a party she’s the one she goes to when she’d like to get home, and Loona always does even if she’s having fun.

I don’t want to imply that she became aromantic because of the trauma, so maybe she has always been on the aroace spectrum, which was why she could see through the rose coloured glasses from the start. She doesnt centre her life goals and self esteem on any type of love or male approval anymore, and it would take a significant amount of trust and mutual independence between her and a partner before she’d enter that type of relationship. She might not ever want to marry, and I don’t blame her.

Also she’s a lesbian because. I say so. This show has no lesbians yet and if she’s basically Janis from Mean Girls, that makes her gay. Don’t tell anyone but she has a massive celebrity crush on Glitz from the Twin Glam sisters and can you blame her. Fizz isn’t very happy about that poster in her room but he doesn’t comment.

To be fair I don’t think it was a surprise to anyone that she likes women it was a kindve “that’s great sweetie do you want pancakes or sliders for breakfast?”

So so so cute 🥺 and who knows, maybe there are times where Loona and Via break stereotypes and it’s Via who keeps Loona protected as the “muscle” while Loona becomes more interested in education

Text exchange:

Loona: it’s kinda funny how nobody expects you to be the muscle of the two of us.

Via: well, you know the most powerful muscle is the brain. And I make sure to exercise mine daily.

Loona: “The most powerful muscle is the brain” 🤓

Via: HEY! Well it’s true!!

[wurmwizzard]

Whats your favorite thing to draw? Not like a whole character, i mean really specific like a shape, body part, object, detail, etc

yes YESS I love this question, thank you! I think I go through periods where I hyper-obsess over a very certain detail and want to perfect it before I move on to the next thing. My work is Extremely detail oriented, which is sometimes a struggle bc I have to figure out how I want to draw EVERYTHING. Am I drawing a certain type of fabric? Well, time to focus on that Specific Texture I want to achieve!

With that said, I think I will certainly always love drawing hair and fur. I've always gotten lost in the details of fur and how dramatic and texture I can make it. That love and appreciation actually blossomed into my own creature, the "Jo"

these fellas started out as a random doodle playing with how I wanted to draw dark-colored fur and texture it!! Also, I was deeply inspired by Petscop at the time, and wanted to make a spooky tomogatchi-sim game i then subsequently forgot the existence of a few days later lol..

This of course also extends to my LOVE of drawing hair!! I always get excited when I get to finally block out the hair shape of a character, and them dive in to those juicy little details. I really want to work on trying different textures of hair in the new year, especially with my sweet goose lady Lucille and her green locs!

Now, as of recently, thanks to my freaky alien octopus lady, I've been obsessed with drawing huge, writhing masses of tenticles. With my new cepholpod aliens, I want to master the tenticle 🐙 I think I've gotten a good handle on them within the past few months as well:

So basically this is a very long, rambling way of saying I LOVE details haha I think my art definitely speaks that for itself.

[s0lairee]

i have a whole playlist for vincent so this is probably cheating but

gimme! gimme! gimme! - abba, paparazzi by lady gaga & most of all work song by hozier

oh nygod may we see the vincent playlist perhaps... i offer underwater vamps in return

[frasier-crane-style]

Teevee

The sizably titled Special Ops: Lioness is a well-done military thriller, suspended somewhere between military propaganda and feminine empowerment. Nicole Kidman's Cait is a high-ranking director of such-and-such at the CIA, Saldana's Jo is a CIA case officer working under her, and Laysla de Oliveira's Cruz is the agent that she's running on an assassination mission that pivots on befriending (or perhaps... more than befriending...?) the target's daughter. (Don't worry about Morgan Freeman, he only shows up for two scenes.) Just in case that sounds too girly for Taylor Sheridan, the closest thing Hollywood has to a right-winger, half the cast is beardy military dudes (and one butch military lesbian. Cuz chicks).

It tells a compelling enough story, even if some of the attempts to reach out to the fairer sex come out cack-handed. Points for equality; Jo's husband is the exact sort of "who cares/he's no slob!" medical person as Jack Ryan's wife always is, even if their subplot feels weirdly Lifetimeish. (To quote Parks & Rec: "I watch a lot of Lifetime movies. There was this one, How Far is Too Far Enough: The Terry Palaver Lonagan Story. This woman had agoraphobia and her therapist was obsessed with her. And he hid in her house, and then he attacked her and tried to eat her toes. Also, her daughter was having sex way too young." Swap in some Al Qaeda and that is essentially Lioness)

Kiefer's new shot at 24ishness. He plays John Weir (not Jack, you got that, not Jack), one of those corporate espionage type persons. You know the ones. Always pulling off crazy con jobs with their eclectic band of attractive misfits, having a friendly rivalry with the FBI agent out to put them away, traumatic backstory about his father dying (or... did he?). In short order, he's framed for murder (or... is he?) and all his friends are killed (or... are they?) and there's a plot to assassinate whatshisface. It's the kind of show where not only do people fake their death, but they turn out to have died after faking their death so they're really-REALLY dead (or... okay, enough).

Amusingly, about half the "everyone's in on it!" conspiracy details turn out to be contrived coincidences, like the hotel where John and his ladyfriend shack up just happening to have a perverted landlord who has planted a camera in their room (!). But, once you make peace with the fact that the show isn't even trying to play fair, it manages the high-wire act well and wraps everything up by the final bell.

I suppose I should give points for Kiefer being close with a male friend from childhood and they never make the two of them bi. That's got to take discipline in this day and age.

Although it does this thing that weirds me out in modern media where TPTB seem to feel it's not bad enough that the villains are conspiring to create a dictatorship, they must specify it's a right-wing dictatorship.

This bothered me in Stargirl, where the villains' plan turned out to be brainwashing Americans to believe in a number of liberal talking points (green energy, gay marriage, etc.) and the heroes wondered whether they should even bother to stop the mass mind-rape, so the writers added a line about how the brainwashing will kill a bunch of people too so the JSA was justified in fighting.

Of course, SOP for the Rabbit Hole bad guys is carrying out a number of murders and tortures and hostage situations to further their goals, but that's not bad enough, so they throw in one line about how the head villain is going to make women stay at home and gays go back in the closet.

(To paraphrase Community, "I can excuse murder and tyranny, but homophobia is where I draw the line!" "You can excuse murder and tyranny?")

[maksandart]

Hiya guys! I made this post, because well, I wanna participate in some kind of october drawing challenge.

But I wouldnt be myself if the way of doing this wasnt my obsession related, so here we have Total Drama drawing challenge!

Day 1 - fav character

My favourite character is Jo. She's so funny and I love her killer zingers

[ratwavegamehouse]

Terminal - Stretch Goals

Terminal, a digital pirate action game inspired by The Matrix, managed to fund so for the past two weeks we've been slowly hitting some exciting stretch goals. I've been enlisting exciting guest writers to contribute some small techno-fables, expanding the world of the game.

The techno-fables will be stories about pirates, programs or events, from previous cycles, at least over a century ago.

Their relevance could be related to buried treasure, hidden data, obsolete figures still in play, or something else. They may also be simply stories major characters relate to draw parallels or spook people.

£2500 - Jo Winter - HIT

Jo Winter, @winterymute (she/they) is a writer and designer whose previous works include Your Care Is..., a supplement for Wanderhome, Last Orders!, A collection of fictional beers that ran as part of Zinequest in 2021, and The Fall of Home is a diceless collaborative storytelling TTRPG for 2-5 players, about the home you left behind, and returning there in the wake of a great calamity.

£3000 - Alyssa Ridley - HIT

Alyssa Ridley (she/her) is an independent games writer, teaching assistant and miniature painter living in the North of England and the wonderfully talented editor for Terminal. She spends her time making weird and accessible games as part of Biscuit Fund Games, proofreading everything around her and being a full-time mum to her cat and her ever-growing brood of model bug aliens.

She's dreamt up two exciting techno-fables, one about a doppelganger program posing as the Omen, leading restless sleepers astray with promises of gaming the system rather than breaking it.

£3500 - JellyMuppey/Zach Cox - HIT

Zachary Cox aka JellyMuppet (they/them) runs SoulMuppet Publishing, a RPG press and webstore that produces sad and spooky games for nice folx. Their games are about mental health, workers under capitalism and inescapable cycles. This moon-dazed, wizard obsessed creator created Inevitable, the sad cowboys failing to save the world game that Terminal is a hack of.

Zach is going to write a read-aloud ritual for the first time players plug in to the Terminal.

£4000 - Chloe Montgomery

Chloe is a recovering games designer living in the North East of England. In between having a grown-up job and looking after her cat Holmes, she writes games like Tournament Arc and Goblin Country.

She'll write something involving the ghost of a pirate captain. Spooky!

£4500 - Gormengeist

As well as being responsible for all the gorgeous and stylish art in Terminal @gormengeist is also an immensely talent designer and writer. Her game Bubblegum Vampires was recently recommended on io9. Her work (including Bubblegum Wizards 2, Psychopunk, and Nuclear Knights) revolves around urban life, psychic powers, and wizards who can shoot lightning.

So at 4.5k I'll hire Gormengeist to create a techno-fable, expanding the world of Terminal and I am dead excited to see what she comes up with.

As well I'll dedicate other additional funds to increasing the art budget for the game.

There's 9 days left in the campaign and I'd really love to hit those next two goals (plus, maybe more).

If you're excited about the project please share it far and wide. Tell all your friends how excited you are for a hot slab of digital pirate action.

[supersapphical]

Jo/Lenore Moodboard

A pacifist vampire and an overzealous hunter walk into a bar…

Lenore shows her teeth. Her lips draw back and her fangs descend.

“You’re a vampire.”

“And you’re a hunter, you’ve killed more people than I have.”

For Sapphebruary Day 9: Teeth

Right now this is a fic that only exists in my head but I’m a little obsessed with the idea of a pacifist monster like Lenore paired with early seasons Jo, when she’s romanticized hunting. They’re both just trying to survive and they’re put at odds by the world they live in.