#I am so incredibly honoured to be the first artist to draw them

[shanicetjn]

Shamia & Yasur

Commission for nyokohimechan on BlueSky of her OCs - Shamia and Yasur.

Check out my progress below.

Completed - 26 June 2024

[sortofshea]

On the 19th day of @hprecfest this fandom gave to me...

Day 19: fanart

Artists: @littlewinnow, @slyssnakes, @quail-in-red, @ratkingpoe, @regretfulcorrine

Title: Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic | fanart by @frm9pm

Pairing: Draco x Harry

Explicit | 88.7k words

Summary: Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Why I recommend them:

Winnow is one of my all-time favourite drarry artists. Baby scorp and werewolf Draco were some of the first things I saw by them, and I was immediately in love. The chibi Draco doodles are, quite frankly, some of the funniest things I've ever seen and obligatory mention of their black cat animagus Harry because I love him, your honour.

One | Two | Three

Sly is LITERALLY my most recent obsession. My blog has been taken over by the range of drarry art they draw. Their NSFW stuff is positively steamy, and I'm unhealthily fixated on their pirate AU. I will never not race their blog the second tumblr notifies me of a new post.

One | Two | Three

Quail's little comics are so comedic and wonderful. Her Draco is quintessentially melodramatic, and it's always such a treat to see new art. I'm such a sucker for gender bending, I adore her fem!drarry so very very much.

One | Two | Three

Poe's NSFW art makes me sweat. They draw one of the prettiest Dracos I've ever seen, and I'm so obsessed with him. He gives very Regina George vibes sometimes, and it's positively sickening. Also, Draco in a mini skirt. That's it.

One | Two | Three

Speaking of pretty Draco, Corrine draws such a pretty Draco I've seen multiple people mistake him for a girl, but don't get it twisted, he is just truly the most beautiful boy to exist. And bonus, more fem!drarry because, as I mentioned above, I am so weak for them.

One | Two | Three

Bonus fic rec! Azoth is one of my all-time favorite fics and the art by frm9pm had me absolutely losing it.

The most Honourable of Mentions must also go to the artists who drew the holy trinity of Pinterest shirts Harry has now been drawn wearing:

"Don't bully me, I'll cum" by @slyssnakes

"Hard to kill, easy to fuck" by @basiatlu

"Come in me bro!" by @the-forbidden-forest

There were so many other phenomenal artists I wanted to mention, but this post would be approximately 70 miles long, so I'm gonna stop here. If you want to see a multitude of other incredibly talented artists, scroll down my blog or visit my drarry tag!

[lulzyrobot]

First and foremost, I am an artist myself. I love your work, and I can feel the love you put into your art. You are one of my favorite motherfuckers I've ever had the opportunity to see online. You are a major inspiration, I admit it's mainly due to the fact you share several of the interests that I do. I have not yet begun my journey doing digital art, but know that when I do, your style will certainly be assimilated into the amalgamation that is my art style—as I'm sure has happened in your art journey too, at some point or another with other artists. I wish you the best, thank you for being awesome, and being creative, especially. I find creativity in short supply, especially in other people. And, of course, thank you for sharing your work and ideas. It's safe to say I've been majorly inspired by them.

Perhaps, in another time, by another name, in another life, I will be back. But for now, that's all I have to say.

— C

I dont even know where to begin... ANON?? Thank you so much for the kind words. You have no idea how much this means to me at this particular moment in time. This past month especially has been really hard for me for a bunch of reasons and these incredibly kind words were not something I ever expected. I am so honoured to be considered one of your favourites. <3

Well I certainly look forward to you starting your digital art journey! It will absolutely be rewarding, but it will be a struggle too. Dont let that discourage you when you start. I know when I first started using a drawing tablet I almost gave up on it because it was hard to get used to. Overcome those obstacles and your skill will grow in leaps and bounds!

Thank you C, you've made my day.

[creampill]

May I request reader prompt 25. for Bayverse Optimus, please?

Bay!Optimus/Reader Prompt Fill: ”Were you drawing me?”

Being one of the first humans on earth to interact with an alien life form was not mentioned in the job description.

That being said, you were a government agent: you were not expecting normalcy from this kind of career. But you had been trained for crime rings and nuclear threats, not whatever sci-fi movie bullshit this was.

Your entire unit had been ordered into a military hanger at an ungodly hour, and what you’d expected was some sort of national terrorist attack or something normal, but no, it was robots.

Giant, completely sentient, super cool looking robots. And up as close as you were, sitting just behind your superior as he negotiated with these goliath metal aliens?

You just had to draw them.

Your little note-taking clipboard had become and easel in a matter of moments, your pen twirling in your hand as you tried to make sense of all the intricate shapes and plates these beings were made of.

Your current subject identified himself as “Optimus Prime”, a very grand name befitting somebody of his stature. He had the kind of voice and manner of a leader, one that could pierce through crowds and rally armies. There was no question that he was the head of his crew, the Autobots, the symbol for which you were trying your hardest to try and recreate but from the angle you were at it was very difficult to get the details right.

Eventually conversation hit a lull, and the your superior went to converse with other members of your group. As you were off to the side, you weren’t noticed and you didn’t notice either, leaning on your side of the balcony and refining each of the scattered sketches you’d covered your page with.

Then suddenly, came a voice deep as pitch and very close to you, “Excuse me, human?”

One would think that a fifty-foot man made of metal would make a bit more noise when he walked. You fumbled with your clipboard, and, spurred by the burst of adrenaline, you blurted out that previous thought (with a lot less eloquence than I’ve written it with)

The regret hit as hard as the shock did, and you faced him to apologise, “So sorry, uh, sir, you just startled me. Sorry.”

You looked up (and up and up and up) at him, and were surprised to see what almost looked like mirth glittering in those blue-LED-like eyes of his.

“It’s alright, human,” he said, “And please, call me Optimus.”

“Well, Optimus, hello. What… brings you here?”

(Very smooth. A+ for effort.)

“I was curious. You haven’t looked up from that data pad in a while, and you look incredibly focused. I simply wondered what you were doing,” then he frowned, “apologies if that is rude to ask.”

“Oh!” The ‘data pad’ must be your clipboard, the one you held loosely with your doodles fully on display for the mech behind you…

Quickly, you pressed it to your chest and tried to laugh it off, “you aren’t being rude, and it wasn’t anything important, h-hah.”

He quirked a brow at you (how were his expressions so readable when he wasn’t even human!?), “Were you drawing me?”

(Ah, shit.)

Your words escaped you, and you floundered for a bit before he seemingly took pity on you and spoke up again;

“I am not offended if you were. I’m rather honoured that you’ve deemed me fit enough a subject to draw me.”

“Oh, yeah. I was,” you answered, barely keeping a red flush down at his sweet words.

And then he asked the question every artist had been asked whenever they had the gall to draw in public, “could I see?”

Could… could you say no? Speaking truthfully, this guy could crush you in an instant if you said something he didn’t especially vibe with. But something about his face, and the tone in which he asked made you kind of want him to see.

So you obliged, turning your clipboard around to show him. He crouched down to be eye level with it, and you watched those eyes flick over the page for a few moments longer than felt normal, then they flicked to you with a soft smile.

“Wonderful. You are very talented,” he said, his already pleasantly deep voice dipping down and almost rumbling through your body in his sincerity.

That red flush was unstoppable now. “Thank you, Optimus.”

[levi-supreme]

Who are your favorite mutuals? And why?

Hi anon!!!! I'm so sorry for getting to this so late!!!!

Before I start I just want to make a disclaimer that I love all my friends, whether or not you follow me only on my main/this blog, or both. I love all of you equally and I apologise if you aren't mentioned here ;~~~~;

Also, I have some friends who only follow me on my main blog so I will not mention them in this post to be fair.

And lastly, I prefer using the word 'friend' over 'mutual'. I consider us as friends even though we aren't 'mutuals' <3

In no particular order of preference (long post ahead):

Anon/Honesty Hour

1. Fern @levi-lover

Fern's my twinnie and they're the reason why I started this writing blog. We used to share thirsts and headcanons of Levi privately and Fern actually encouraged me to start posting my own writings, and here I am!! Levi-supreme wouldn't exist without them and I am so so happy to have known my amazing twinnie. From an internet friend to irl penpals that exchanges parcels, I love Fern so damn much and I hope I'll have the chance to meet them someday.

2. Maple @thehouseofmaple

Maple's one of the first few friends I've known from tumblr and I love her. We've been through a dark time together and I am glad I was there for her during one of her toughest times. She always poisons me with a lot of Erwin and Mike thirsts (see my Thirsty Thursday master list XD) and the things that she requests from me are all top quality thoughts. We share a common love for the Rengoku men (and also Giyuu HAHA) and I love my onee-san so much.

3. Joey @axoxtxhxh

Joey is honestly one of the biggest gifts I have from joining tumblr. We share a common love for The Veterans and we have so many common interests and preferences. Joey's an incredible writer and I love all of her works. She also gives me great advice with regard to writing and also in life. Joey is the older sister I never had and I love and look up to her so much. Her dedication and passion for writing motivate me to be organised and to be better as well. Joey is also the only person I will gladly call Mrs Zacharias.

4. Mia @ack3rlady

Mia is also another precious jewel I treasure close to my heart. We are so similar in many ways and somehow we always have this unspoken and unexplainable chemistry between us. We share the same love for The Veterans as well, and she's the one and only Mrs Smith I will ever acknowledge. I poisoned Mia with the concept of self-shipping and now she fuels me to write potentially embarrassing and self-indulgent self-ship writings. I love her and I will never ever cease the self-shipping fun with her. We are the Smiths vs Ackermans.

4. Tsuki @hashaneeee

Tsuki is the yin to my yang, and my source of Levi poison. She's an amazing artist and an even greater friend. She listens to my thirsts over Levi every single day and she returns the favour by poisoning me back. She also gets my undying thirst for Eren and embraces my inner Eren hoe. Tsuki is incredibly patient and draws my commissions with so much love. I love and appreciate her for being such an important friend.

5. Suz @ackerpotato and Michi @peachysimp

My two darling younger sisters deserve a huge shoutout from me!! The story of how we became friends is nothing short of an unplanned and unexplainable coincidence. The three of us are of the same ethnicity and speak the same language. We even have the same experiences growing up even though I'm halfway across the globe from them. Suz gets my love for durian and Michi and I have mirroring dimples. I love them like they indeed are my younger sisters.

6. Sorcha @deludedimagines

I've admired Sorcha's writings and her blog for a long time but I was too shy to approach and talk to her. Somehow a miracle happened and we became friends and started talking to each other. Sorcha is an angel and one of the kindest and sweetest people I ever had the fortune of meeting. I am so incredibly honoured to have a friend like her and I treasure this friendship so much.

7. Anlian @anlian-aishang

Like Sorcha, I've been a silent reader of Anlian's work for a long time as well. And by a twist of fate, we became friends too. I had such a major 'senpai noticed me!!!!!' phase when we started talking to each other and even till today, I am still in awe that I can call such a talented person my friend. Anlian is amazing and dedicated in everything she does and how I wish I had a tenth of her talent in writing.

8. Hera @katsuhera

I love Hera and she's my beloved younger sister as well. She's such an incredible writer and I love all her works, including those that are not written for SNK and Genshin Impact. I squeal all the time I see Hera calling me 'unnie' and how I wish I had a dongsaeng like her too. Hera shares my thirst for the men of Genshin Impact and I love her so freaking much. I am manifesting for Childe to materialise and hit her up in the club.

9. Jo @wortverlust

Jo is godsent. Her artwork is god tier amazing and she is so friendly and sweet. She embraces all of my embarrassing and horny tag screaming on my reblogs of her amazing work. Another person who made me channel the 'senpai noticed me!!!!!!' vibes when we became friends. I love Jo and everything that she does, and I am so thankful to have such a talented and amazing friend.

10. Kat @ryukatters

Kat is a sweetheart. She's the first person I ever commissioned a drawing for and the art she drew was fantastic, it left me screaming and crying. I love Kat's artwork and her writing. Kat's writings satisfy my inner Eren hoe all the damn time and I love her so much. I'm stealing her away from Eren and we'll live out our cottagecore life eating bibimbap and listening to BTS and SHINee.

Also a shoutout to some of you whom I haven't been talking much, I'm sorry and I will drop by all of your inboxes soon!!!!!! <3 @alert-arlert @starstruckkittensweets @peace-for-levi @lacheri @astridthevalkyrie @cherrykamado and a lot more whom I'm too shy to mention (>//<) xoxo to all of you!!!!

[thecrofttomb]

TR25 | Reimagined Covers: The Angel of Darkness

Back in February 2021, Crystal Dynamics debuted a special project that aimed to reimagine the box art of the mainline entries in the series. Each one features a different artist and their unique take on the game they were assigned with and is set to be released throughout the anniversary celebration.

For Tomb Raider: The Angel of Darkness (2003), after a few setbacks, the team finally unveiled this stunning gold leaf and oil painting designed by the incredibly talented Stephanie Rew, an award-winning artist specialised in figurative painting who had her work displayed in various exhibitions across the world.

Below you can find what the artist had to say on the making of this piece and download it in various sizes so you can customize all of your devices.

"When I was first approached to make this 25th anniversary artwork for Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness, I felt the work needed to have the look of an icon. This stage in Lara’s story is a darker one and I felt that the fallen angel motif fitted the design perfectly.

I began by engraving the game’s symbol into the gesso before adding raised texture to define the cogs and wheels. I then laid 24ct gold leaf on top of the pattern and polished the gold to reveal the design. I added more detail with a jewellers’ punch and dry brush to create illusion of movement. I then started painting the figure in oil.

The portrait of Lara was a challenge, as painting a fictional character is very different from painting a model. I wanted her to look like the original Lara, with the wide set eyes and angular face, so a lot of tweaking went on to find the balance between a traditional oil portrait and a digital one. I added the black wings last and used blackbird wings as reference. I wanted to create the feeling of flight so added some loose feathers. The final designs of the symbol are painted in 24ct shell gold. The pattern surrounds her and begins to consume the whole figure, signifying the fusion between the game and the hero.

I am honoured to create this work of art for Crystal Dynamics to celebrate 25 years of Tomb Raider, as I loved playing it when it first was released. She has come a long way since then."

The team has also released a neat fan kit with the artwork packed with wallpapers, social assets and even a printable file for those who wish to revamp their cases. If you do so, please share them with us on social media by tagging @thecrofttomb and @tombraider in your posts along with #TR25!

DOWNLOAD

» Previous Covers «

Tomb Raider by Brenoch Adams Tomb Raider II by Babs Tarr Tomb Raider III by Paul Kwon Tomb Raider IV: The Last Revelation by Andy Park Tomb Raider V: Chronicles by Megan Lara Tomb Raider: The Angel of Darkness by Stephanie Rew | Community: #1, #2, #3, #4 Tomb Raider: Legend by Nagu Tomb Raider: Anniversary by Brenoch Adams Tomb Raider: Underworld by Laura H. Rubin Tomb Raider (2013) by Yoshitaka Amano Rise of the Tomb Raider by (TBA) Shadow of the Tomb Raider by Ross Draws

Explore the TR25 web portal where the Tomb Raider community team will be posting some fun articles and exciting announcements along the year. For all the news regarding the 25th anniversary of the franchise, be sure to visit our dedicated TombRaider25 tag.

[starsstruck]

cloudbusting; part six.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. midnight confessions, cozy closing shifts, and new lovers. 

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, mentions of anxiety, sexual content words: 21.3k

series masterlist

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be)

a/n: thank you for everyone’s patience as i wrapped up the series 🥺 the final part is here ! very bittersweet for me, i am both very nervous and excited to share this with everyone ! tina @sunflowers-styles i truly cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done to help me out ily to the moon ! 💞❤️ as always please share and let me know what you thought ! happy reading to everyone 🍊💞

The last time you spent a long time analyzing paintings was when your mom came to visit you in the city and the two of you went to the MET together.

There were walls and walls of art that you didn’t really know the context to – ranging from the medieval period to the surge of postmodernism – things that you had remembered but didn’t really know what they meant. At the time, your mother had been the one excited to go, but the more hours you spent at the museum, the more you found a liking to the art.

That said, that was the last time you really went to a gallery. That was until this past month.

You didn’t really know how long you had spent inside the small gallery.  

Harry lingered by your side for a bit, telling you that if you had any questions about the art or if you wanted him to stay by your side, he could do just that.

You had told him not to worry about you, luckily just as Aleena came by your side and gave you enough of a reason without telling him to go away.

You didn’t want him to go away, you actually did want to stay by his side. But you felt so incredibly guilty and overwhelmed that you knew that you would babble all of this in one breath if you were to stay by his side.

So instead, you stayed at a safe little distance. Walking around the space of the gallery, taking in every small detail of his work. There were sunrises and coffee cups, brushes of fingertips and shut eyelids – everything was so intricate and so beautifully planned that if you weren’t in a room full of people you would probably cry.

You always seemed to be not that far from Harry, once and a while catching his eye from across the room. Time seemed to have flown by, and as the night slowed down and people filtered out, you soon started to realize just how late it had gotten.

Harry had told you after, after what? You felt almost silly, waiting around. You didn’t even know what you were really waiting for.

“My husband is coming to pick me up,” Aleena squeezed your arm from where she stood next to you. “Did you want a ride as well?”

She watched from next to you, as your lips were bit together with nerves that never really seemed to leave your system. After thinking over her offer for a second, you smiled at her. “I’ll be okay, thank you though.”

“Okay,” she returned that warm smile she always had, offering you some ease. “Let me know when you get home, yeah?”

Just as you were nodding and promising that you would get home okay, you saw Harry with his eyes focused on you and a quick pace in his step as he walked towards you.

Nerves bubbled over inside of you, grateful that Aleena hadn’t left just quite yet as he turned to talk to her. “Have you had a good evening?”

Aleena’s eyes drifted over to you, where you stood more or less frozen with your hands woven together, trying to not think too much about how intoxicating it was to be standing close to Harry once more.

“I have – thank you for inviting us,” she shot you another look before turning back to Harry. “Everything looks great.”

Harry nodded with a smile playing on his lips, a little humble nod of his head as he accepted the compliment. He seemed to be about to say something else, when Aleena’s hand gripped your arm once more as she glanced down at her phone. “Oh! My husband is here – I’ve got to head out.”

She pulled you in for a little side hug, waving goodbye. Once again reminded you to let her know when you got home safe and her eyes flicking between you and Harry as she spoke wordless things to you.

As she walked away with her coat hugged around her frame, a small moment of silence passed between you and the honoured artist of the evening before you even dared to look at him again.

“Did you have a chance to look through everything?” Harry directed all of his attention to you once you did look at him. You laced your fingers together nervously and played with the ring on your pinky. The both of you knew that you had seen everything twice, but he needed to say something.

Nodding, you cleared your throat. “I did.”

“And?” He had his own hands fidgeting with each other behind his back as he watched you.

“I love it. All of it.” You offered him a smile. You saw a light pink tint his cheeks, eyes flicking away from yours for a moment.

“Did you have any questions, or…?”

You paused at his question, looking around the emptying room. “I mean just,” you met his gaze once more. “How?” The word was a breath of air past your lips, as you were still so completely incredulous as how he had done all of this. “How – how did you do all this?”

One side of his lip curved higher in a smile, dimple popping as he watched you sheepishly. “Spent a lot of time at the café, sunshine.”

Your heart sped up at the use of the little pet name he had graced you with. “We need to talk. I – I want to talk to you about everything.”

The words were blurted from your mouth, drawing his attention to focus solely on you as his chest visibly expanded with a deep breath. “Yeah, we do.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head, voice dropping. “Good. I – I wasn’t fair to you Harry.”

He was quiet for a moment, nearly a moment too long but he looked at you with that little half smile and gave you a little hum, before nodding his head at painting to your right. “Which was your favourite?”

You were a bit caught off guard from the way he changed to conversation, but you felt yourself melt a bit closer to him. He took a step towards you to stand next to you, both looking at the paintings in your vicinity.

“All of them,” you said quietly, a truthful answer to his questions. “All of them are my favourite.”

You felt his gaze on the side of your face, meeting his eyes when you looked back at him. His lips were drawn into the biggest smile you’d seen from him all night, a breathless laugh emerging from you at the sight of it. “Not too good at making decisions, are you?”

“Not usually,” you hummed, all the ‘I don’t know’s’ that you’ve spoken coming to mind.

“That’s okay,” he murmured quietly, eyes catching with someone as they waved goodbye to him from across the gallery before he looked back at you. “Can I show you my favourites?”

You smiled. “I thought you said that this one –” you pointed to the smaller frame you had both worked on, “– was your favourite.”

“Mhm it is,” he hummed. “But there are just too many of them that I love.”

A small laugh sounded from you, nodding before he motioned for you to follow him. “I really like this one,” he angled his head to a canvas filled with warm tones, brushing of fingers and peels of mandarin oranges littering the surface.

“I started eating so much more citrus fruit after I met you – is that weird to say?” Harry laughed, a bit nervously in your opinion, as you joined his light humour at the confession.

“I don’t think that’s weird,” you told him, observing the painting again.

“Good,” he mumbled, only briefly stopping with you before he started to move across the gallery once more to another painting.

“This was one of the first one’s I made,” he explained, stopping in front of a large work. There were only unmarked figures and bright spots of colour over the frame, warm toned browns and oranges overpowering the entire thing. As you looked closer, you saw the majority of these unknown people were interacting with each other: small shows of affection of held hands and arms over shoulders.

“It was after sitting in your coffee shop for so long the first time. I knew I felt warm, and comfortable there – just didn’t fully realize why yet. Went home that day and started this one.”

You had no idea what to say. He had started these the first time he had gotten coffee at your work? You wanted to wrap yourself in the canvas and live in the peaceful world he had created within the frame.

“I love the way you paint the café, makes me want to live there.”

“Me too,” he laughed, his arm nudging yours lightly to keep guiding you along. It was the first real touch he’d given you all night.

“This was the first time I painted you,” he stopped in front of a medium sized canvas, splashes of blue mixed into his usual warm tones as a seemingly far way figure was mostly turned away from the viewer.

Although there were no distinct features, there was a certain likeness to yourself that you had no idea how Harry had managed to capture. You looked as if you were almost floating above, other figures around you not as detailed or pronounced.

“I didn’t realize…” you spoke, more so to yourself as you leaned in closer towards the thick canvas.

“Me neither,” Harry admitted. “I didn’t realize it was you that I was painting at first. I finished it the day after we kissed.”

He turned back to face you. “I could talk about these,” he motioned to the room around, “all of these, forever. Just want to show you some of my process – how this all came to be.”

“I know I’ve said this already but it is so breathtaking,” you spoke truthfully.

Harry smiled dreamily at you, a small flush of pink on his neck as he nodded at the compliment. “And I know I’ve already said this, but it’s all you.”

Your breath stopped momentarily in your throat, as Harry was looking at you like you were the only person he ever wanted to see.

Though something pulled his attention away for a moment, and he was soon clearing his throat and glancing around the room before he spoke again. “We should be getting out of here soon – it’s just past eleven o’clock.”

Was it? You had no perception of time since you’d step foot inside the room.

“Do you think, um,” your lips were tight between your teeth. “That we could go somewhere, walk around…”

“I’d love that,” Harry responded nearly immediately, the nerves in your stomach settling just the slightest bit.

He needed to grab something from a room in the back before you left, and he was soon by your side with his familiar bag slung over his shoulder as he guided you out the door.

You didn’t know where you were walking really – if there was somewhere he had in mind or if you were mindlessly wandering. You didn’t care that much though, you trusted him, you knew that much.

There was a cold bite in the air, enough to make you shiver as the wind picked up the slightest bit. You were hugging your arms to your chest, feeling almost weird walking with the distance that was between you and Harry.

There were a good five minutes in complete silence, before you couldn’t bear the quiet anymore. You slowed down slightly to catch a quick glance at him, taking a breath.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. You don’t deserve this. I owe you an explanation.”

“What happened?” He asked quietly, your name low in his mouth. “I thought that we were…” he trailed off, letting you finish whatever thought he had.

You sighed, having planned so many things to say to him but at the moment it all left your head. “I got scared. I um, got insecure,” you laughed nervously. “It’s dumb, really.”

“It’s not,” he shook his head. “Your feelings aren’t dumb.”

You had both stopped walking by this point, stopping by a little park near the water and finding an only slightly damp bench to sit on. You kept your eyes focused on the ground, before braving a glance at him and bearing your heart.

“I really started feeling something for you – more than I thought I could in such a short time. It’s kind of… terrifying to me and unknown and just. I found any thread to pull at to let everything fall apart.”

He was quiet, watching you intently with the little furrow between his brow as he listened. “I get … anxious over every fucking thing.” You spoke in a long breath, blinking quickly. “And I let myself – I get in my own way all the time. Overthinking, finding any small reason to pull back, pushing you away when I really didn’t want that.”

“I feel so lost, most of the time,” you kept speaking. “And you’re like, this big ball of light that came into my life and I didn’t… didn’t feel like I deserved it.”

“It’s okay to not know what you want.” Harry said softly, only briefly cutting in.

“Still,” you exhaled. “It doesn’t excuse the way I was so shitty to you, and,” you took another breath. “I didn’t mean what I said last time.”

“I um, I realized that I really like you. And I don’t feel like that very often – there’s a reason that I haven’t ever really been in a long-term serious relationship – I scared myself into thinking that you maybe didn’t feel the same…”

Harry was still quiet from next to you, and you dared to cast him a glance after your confession. He had a smile building on his lips, one that you weren’t expecting to see. “You were worried I didn’t feel the same?”

“Well…”

“Ate you out on the floor of my studio – don’t just do that with anyone.” He spoke softly. You felt yourself warm at the way he spoke, eyes briefly tracing the pattern of leaves splattered across the ground. “Spent all my free time in your café, all my free time just bugging you while you were working. Painted an entire show just about you –”

He cut himself off, taking a breath as he quietly murmured your name, getting you to meet his eyes again. “Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the moment I met you.”

Harry fell quiet for a moment again. “I forgive you – and I hope that you can talk to me about everything. Anything that makes you anxious, any reason you doubt yourself – I’m here for you.”

Your heart grew ten times in your chest. “I don’t deserve you…”

“You really need to stop doubting yourself,” his tone was light, eyebrows raised as he watched you with a smile pulling at his lips. “You deserve everything.”

“Harry –” you inhale deeply, insides feeling warm and fuzzy at his confessions. “Thank you. For everything. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Again, he fell quiet with his eyes flicking around the two of you before he leant back on the bench a slightest bit. “You never answered my question, you know.”

“What question?” Your confusion was clear on your face.

“From that night – after we painted,” he paused, watching your brows fall closer together in your confusion. “I asked if you thought things happened for a reason.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the memory of the question barely there. “Why’d you ask?”

“I like to think that things happen for a reason,” he mused, not really answering your question either. “Not that we’re all born with a written path, but that you stumble upon people and opportunities based off of the decisions you make.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can’t really put it into words,” Harry mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s like because of the decisions you make, it kind of … guides you in a certain way.”

You thought over his words, slowly nodding. You agreed that you didn’t think everything happened for a reason, with a planned path for everyone. Though you had never really thought about it in the way that Harry had just described it, and you found yourself agreeing with him.

He kept speaking in your silence. “Like, you don’t have a planned path for you but maybe just a small one. One that changes at every decision and turn in your life.”

“I like that,” you quietly spoke, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Like…” his hesitation made you look up at him. His expression was light, small crinkle in his eyes that held a smile, while he rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip.

“Like how I walked into your coffee shop because I like the colour tangerine, and then I met you.”

His words made your heart leap in your chest. Any thought left your head, the only thing coming out of your mouth was a breathy puff of air.

“I remember thinking,” he kept speaking, confessions tumbling from his lips. “That it was a bit of a silly name ‘Tangerine Coffee’, made me curious. But… it brought me to you.”

You didn’t know how to properly respond, no one ever telling you anything of the sorts that made you feel the way you did – that made you feel like you could give yourself completely to this person without a doubt in your mind. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and kiss him senseless, until you were both gasping for air.

“That’s,” you cut yourself off, starting over again. “Harry –”

“Listen,” he rushed. “I like you, so much so if I haven’t made that obvious yet. I want you, in any way you’d have me.”

Your legs felt like they melted into puddles, taking a breath before telling him. “I want you too – I never wanted you to go anywhere.”

His expression softened, and you saw his hands lace together with his fingertips fidgeting with each other as if he wanted to reach out to you but was restraining himself. “I hope that I make you good, I don’t want you to feel afraid – about anything.”

His words sat heavy in your head. You once again found yourself with so much you wanted to say to him and return his affections but didn’t find the words to say them.

“Do you think we were meant to meet?” You said instead, voice slow as you tried not to let your breath stop in your chest.

“I don’t know,” he spoke honestly. “But I know that now that I have, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

His words warmed your heart. “Me neither.”

Now that you had started, you couldn’t stop. “Harry I can’t apologize enough for how I panicked like I did. With past relationships, they’ve never really gone anywhere – I never really felt anything. Nothing past initial interest or attraction. And then with you… I didn’t realize what I was feeling and then when I did, I let it fall apart.”

A burst of wind passed through you again, and as you hugged your arms around your chest tighter, Harry’s shoulder pressed against yours.

“I’ve only really been in one serious relationship,” Harry started. “When I was twenty-one. Lasted for a couple years, but the longer it went on the more I realized it was more so just… easy to stay together. I had just left school, and wanted to move out here. She didn’t – it didn’t end really well.”

“I moved out here, started over. Felt like nothing was really going to ever work out, but slowly it does. It’s odd – when you’re in your mid-twenties you feel like you need to figure out how you’re going to spend the rest of your life – as if you don’t have your entire life. Looking back, I was much more hurt, and lost, than I realized. I thought… that I wouldn’t feel that strongly for anyone again. But I’ve realized that that can easily change…”

His words calmed you. You held your tongue for a second, before asking. “What about Rory?”

Harry laughed. “Why do you ask?”

You were nearly embarrassed about the confession. “I don’t know. I was… jealous of someone who gets to know you like that.”

“You’ve got nothing to be jealous about, sunshine.” He said, tone light. “We were just friends who dated and it didn’t work out. I’ve seen her, I don’t know, three times in the past year.”

“Oh…” you softly said.

“When I say that things can quickly change, I mean how quickly I started to like you. What I’m trying to say is that… it’s okay if it takes you a few tries.”

He made butterflies erupt in your stomach as you told him. “I also thought I could never, um, like someone as much as I have.”

He turned his head so that his gaze never lifted from yours. “Can’t get enough of hearing you say that.”

You held his gaze, watching the quirk in his lips as he brought a hand up to your cheek. You hadn’t realized the way you had missed his touch, until the few quick brushes that night. Feeling his bare skin against yours again just felt right.

Turning your face slightly while you moved closer towards him, you quickly glanced at his pretty pink lips. You didn’t really know why you felt nervous about kissing him again, but after telling yourself a quick fuck it, you leant forward until your mouth pressed over his. 

His hand easily slid from your cheek to wrap around the back of your neck, drawing you in closer as his lips easily accepted your kiss. You felt yourself both calm down and erupt in excitement as you kissed again.

Although, the moment found itself short-lived.

The first drops of rain always seemed anticipated. First a wet spot on the cement, and then a drop hit your nose.

The third drop to hit you is when you start to realize that you are outside without a cover, without an umbrella.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, head titled up as he glanced at the drops falling from the sky. His hand retreated from you, disappearing into his big ivory tote bag and pulling out a folded black umbrella. “Don’t have an umbrella, do you?”

“No,” you brought a hand to cover your head, a makeshift cover for yourself as the rain picked up. You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, at the interruption of your moment.

“Here,” he unfolded the barrier against the rain, lifting it up over both of your heads. Extending his bent arm that was holding the handle out to you, silently inviting you to loop you own arm in with his.

Accepting the invitation, taking a step closer to him as your side pressed against his. Your arms tightly woven together, he tugged on your arm lightly as he glanced at you under the umbrella.

“I really don’t want to call it a night…”

“Did you want to,” he continued, pausing as he bit his smile down. “Come back to mine? To keep talking,” he quickly added. “We can have some tea if you’d like, warm you up.”

You laughed lightly, nudging him with your hip. You felt a rush of tingles down your spine, a rush of excitement rather than a rush of anxiety. “I’d like that.”

There was something so cheesy about walking arm in arm under the umbrella with someone in the rain, with someone who liked you and you liked just as much. Something so cheesy, something that would happen to Bridget Jones, something so small that you were so overjoyed about having that you squeezed his arm just a bit tighter.

You had no idea what time it was, and you didn’t care. Getting on the train together, watching Harry under the harsh fluorescents as he sat next to you with his thigh pressed against yours.

He was glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a light smile seemingly permanently etched across his lips as he watched you yawn. “Tired?”

“Not really,” you said truthfully. “Well maybe a bit, but not tired tired. Just relaxed.”

He let out a sigh, smiling with you. “Me too.”

The journey wasn’t very long. Sharing the umbrella once more as you walked side by side to his place, feet splashing in the growing puddles that lined the sidewalk.  Part of you always loved the city at night when it rained – everything was still so bright as the lights reflected off the wet road.

It wasn’t long until you were walking up to the familiar building, letting Harry lead you up the stairs and into the warmth. His place was just as you remembered, seemingly cozier at night with the warm dim lighting coming from his lamps. You followed him inside, kicking off your shoes and heading to the kitchen with him.

Eyes darting around his place to take in the place as you’d only really seen half the place last time while Harry walked to his kitchen, part of you eagerness to have a look around also due to the little cat that you hadn’t gotten out of your head.

“Oh!” Exclaiming maybe a bit too loudly in the otherwise quiet studio, at the sight of the little calico that was lightly running towards the two of you. “Where have you been hiding?”

Bending down to trace your fingertips over her back, reveling in the way she rubbed her head over your leg. “You’re just a little baby,” you cooed, ecstatic when she let you pick her up. Holding her small frame against your chest, watching her enjoy the way you dragged your nails behind her ears.

“Not so much a baby anymore – she’s nearly ten,” Harry chuckled near you, grabbing his electric kettle and bringing it over to the sink to fill with water.

“Really?” You directed your question to Harry, not his cat. “She’s so small, I thought she was a kitten.”

He smiled. “She’s just little. Actually is a bit of an old lady.”

“No,” you looked back down at the little calico. “You’re young at heart, aren’t you?”

Harry laughed at your conversation with his cat, turning on the kettle and pulling out two mugs from the cupboard. “When’s her birthday?” You continued with your questioning, lightly placing her back down on the ground when she started to squirm.

“Not too sure,” he hummed, leaning back against the counter to face you. “She was a stray – there are ways you can test all that but why go through the trouble, you know? Fairly certain of her age and I like to think her birthday is in the fall.”

“I get that,” you agreed. “How long have you had her for?”

“About three years now,” he said, as the kettle got louder. “She’s fairly independent, likes to do her own thing but also loves attention.”

“Have you ever painted her?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve tried a few times, yeah. Could never quite capture her though, I don’t know. I’m bound to try again soon, though.”

“Would love to see that,” you hummed. The click of the electric kettle letting you know it was done, and Harry turned to riffle through another cupboard.

You watched him pull out two little tea bags, placing them in the mugs and twisting the strings around the handle of the mugs. You smiled to yourself, noticing he did the same thing you did when you made tea at work. 

He handed you one of the mugs, leading you over to the flower-patterned couch he had on the adjacent living room. You held the mugs between both hands, the hot ceramic instantly warming you.

Easily falling back into conversation with him, talking until the tea grew cold and forgotten by the edge of the coffee table. 

“Your coworker, I realize I don’t know her name – the one you brought to the show with you tonight.” Harry asked, after he told about the various times he had come into your work a few months ago but you were not there. 

“Aleena,” you told him, smile on your lips.

“Yes, Aleena. She would always bring you up when I came in and you weren’t there. Somehow – she always talked about you with me.” 

Small groan leaving your mouth, recalling the various conversations you’d had with her about Harry. “That sounds like her,” you warmed under his light stare. “I did talk about you with her…” 

He shuffled on the couch, eyebrows raised with a silly little grin on his lips. “You did?”

“Well….yeah I did. Talked about you a lot too – even with my brother out of all people and I never tell him anything.” 

“You did?” He pressed, moving a bit closer to you as his hand nudged over your forearm. You glanced away from him, shaking your head with a smile. “Didn’t realize you had it that bad for me.” 

“Shut up,” you tried to push him away, not doing a good job of it and not really caring all that much. 

“Only teasing,” he hummed happily. “Like getting you flustered.” 

You looked back towards him, trying your best to bite away the smile growing at your lips as he did often in fact, make you flustered. 

“Are you not very close with your brother?” He asked after a moment, voice soft once more. 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re just … very different people I guess. I feel bad sometimes, that we’re not really close, but I don’t think we have a bad relationship or anything.” 

“That’s okay,” he said, hand on your forearm now tracing light patterns over your exposed skin, with the sleeve of your sweater pushed up. 

“We’ve tried a bit harder in the past couple of years, especially since my parents split. We both saw how it affected them.” 

“Affected how?” 

“Well like my mom specifically just… seemed so heartbroken for a long time. Even if she wanted the divorce just as much. It’s hard, seeing a parent like that.” 

He nodded, eyes focused on the movement of his fingers of your arm. The little calico cat had made its way onto the couch as well, demanding your attention for a moment as she tentatively placed a paw over your bent knee. 

“The period of grief,” Harry started after a moment, pulling your attention away from the cat that was resting by your leg. “Any kind of grief – it’s hard but it’s important, you know?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well like – it shapes you. Like I wouldn’t want to go back to the person I was before. It’s good to let yourself look back, it helps you move forward. But you should be focused on only moving forward, if that makes sense.” 

You didn’t like the idea of Harry having been in pain. 

“Yeah that makes sense,” you nodded after a moment.

He continued. “I think I do that – when things aren’t going well I think back to a time that was better in the past, even if it wasn’t really that much better.” 

“I hope you feel happy now.” 

He glanced back at you, meeting your eyes. “How could I not?” 

A moment passed. A moment where if there wasn’t a cat sitting between you, you were sure that you would topple over him and make sure to never leave him. And with the way he was looking at you, you were certain he was thinking the same thing. 

“I don’t mean –” he paused, fingertips still dancing over your forearm. “Did you want to stay the night? It’s late and raining, and well, you can if you’d like.”

You thought it over for barely a second, every fibre in your body jumping at the suggestion. He was right that it was late, it was likely past midnight. It’s not that you lived that far off, but it would be a small pain to have to walk home in the downpour.

And plus, you very much liked the possibility of ending up cozied up with Harry under the warm covers.

With a short nod and the inside of your lip between your teeth, you glanced at him. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

He nearly sprang off the couch. Holding out a hand to you, you let your palm fall against his as you stood to your feet. He brought you around the corner, to where his bed sat in the back of the studio. Just like the rest of his place, it was warm and inviting.

A dark brown dresser next to a closet had some clothes sitting on top of it, that he quickly grabbed and put them back in their place inside one of the drawers. The tones all around you were deep browns and oranges making you feel cozier just by being in the secluded space. You were busy looking around, at the little images he had on the walls and over the pictures you assumed were of his friends and family.

“Did you need something to change into?” His voice brought your attention back to him, where he was still standing by the dresser and digging through one of the drawers. You glanced down at your sweater covered dress.

“Yes please,” you smiled. “Anything is fine, a shirt or maybe a hoodie? I get cold easily...” you trailed off lightly, eyes meeting his and his expression was the cause for your loss of words.

You didn’t really know why, but he just looked so soft and pretty and so happy to have you with him it was leaving you for a slight loss of words.

He nodded, turning away from you again as he looked for something for you.

“Is this good?” After a second, he passed you a light gray sweatshirt, the fabric soft under your fingertips.

“Should be,” you spoke softly, unfolding the material. You placed it on the edge of the mattress beside you, eyes meeting his for one more brief second before turning away from him completely so that your back faced him.

As if some sense of privacy since you weren’t facing him, although you knew that wasn’t the case as you could feel the burn of his gaze on your back. Biting away a smile even though he couldn’t see the little smirk dancing on your lips, you tugged off your heavy sweater and let it drop next to the sweatshirt on the bed.

Next was the dress, fingers pulling at the zipper until the material was loose enough to fall off your form. Leaving you in nothing but your navy-blue underwear that left not much of your bum covered, you could feel the hot stare Harry had on your bare back as he remained quiet behind you.  

Grabbing the sweatshirt from the bed, pulling the thick fabric over your head in a quick motion and settled it around you until your arms were through the sleeves and the bottom hem covered just enough. It smelled like him, it wrapped around you so nicely you didn’t think you’d want to take it off.

Turning around, you lifted your eyes until they landed on Harry’s face. His gaze shot up to yours, before dropping down once again as he made no move to hide the way he took in your appearance in his baggy sweatshirt.

“Right,” he coughed. If you squinted, you could make out the little red tint on his neck, even in the dim light. “I think I have a spare toothbrush somewhere.”

He led you to the small washroom, walking through the open door and bent down to search in the cupboard that sat under the sink while you watched from the doorframe.

With a small ‘aha’ muttered past his lips, he rose to stand in front of you with a green toothbrush in its cardboard and plastic packaging. He wordlessly opened it for you, tearing the cardboard from the back until the brush was free and ready for you to use.

“Did you need anything else?” He murmured, shifting forward so that he was practically pressed against you in the doorway of the washroom.

Wordlessly shaking your head, your gaze locked with his until he stepped past you so that you could further enter the room and shut the door.

You easily found his toothpaste next to his brush that sat in a little ceramic cup on the counter. After brushing your teeth, you casually searched through his drawers, picking up miscellaneous objects and placing them back in their spots until you found a little pot of moisturizer.

Washing your face and patting small dots of the cream just around your eyes, you glanced over the rest of his possessions in the washroom with a little casual snoop.

The countertop had a few items spread across the surface; a cologne that you brought under your nose, some hair styling product, a little bottle of light purple nail polish, and a little dish that had a couple rings sitting in it.

Realizing you were probably taking a bit too long, you shot one last glance in the mirror before heading out from the bathroom.

You found Harry picking up some stray clothes from on top of his dresser and folding them back into the drawers. He turned around at the sound of your footsteps on the floor, lips turning into a smile as you neared him.

“Good?” He checked, as your fingertips wove nervously together.

“Yes,” grinning back at him, “thank you.”

His turn in the washroom, you didn’t know what to do while you waited. Obviously sliding into bed was the answer, but for whatever reason you felt it best to wait for him to come back. Instead, you walked around the space near his bed, looking at various things he had on the walls and resting on his shelves.

Head tilting to read the titles of the books sitting on his shelf, finding primarily books on artists – some you had heard of but most you hadn’t. Fingertips skimming over the spines of the books, plucking a thin one with a title you were fairly sure was in French. Delicately flipping through the pages, pages of small bits of texts surrounded with little black and white drawings. Everything was in the foreign language to you, though you stopped on a page when you caught the little scribble of English words on the page.

“…they go even farther perhaps, towards the unknown, into the light and joy.”

You didn’t know what to make of it, not having the context of what the rest of the words were saying but you simply enjoyed this phrase paired with the sketches of a couple and dark waters.

“What ya’ looking at?” His voice behind you caught you a bit off guard, feeling as if you had been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to do.

Turning around, you held up the book still in your hands. “Sorry,” you weren’t sure why you were apologizing. “Was just looking at your books.”

Harry walked over to where you were standing, taking a look at the book that you held. “It’s nice, no?” He hummed, taking hold of the book when you extended it out to him. “It was a gift – feels a bit lost on me though since I haven’t had the time to flip through and translate everything. I do really like these artists though.”

“Who wrote it?”

“An artist from the twentieth century – or actually parts of it were written with their partner too. It’s essentially all about the story of their love. I’ve looked up translations for a few things here and there, this one here,” he pointed to the page you’d opened it on. “I really like it.”

You nodded with a small hum, squinting to re read the words on the page once more.

“It’s just – beautiful, y’know? Going into the unknown, with the one you love.”

Still staring at the book in his hands thinking that he was going to speak again, you looked up at him when a silence fell through the room. He was already looking at you, standing closer than you’d previously realized. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes clear as they seemed to scan your every thought.

Something about standing in a warm cozy room while the rain poured outside, reading stories of love with a man who had recently declared his affections for you. Something about it that made a warmth spread through your chest, and a peace that you had never felt settle over you.

“Did you want to go to bed?” The question was quiet, Harry’s voice subtly cracking is if he hadn’t used it in a while.

You were on the verge of making a joke about him being presumptuous, but you were glad that you held it in as a part of you revelled in the way that a thick layer of anticipation seemed to settle in the air around the two of you.

“Yeah, I do,” was all you said instead.

Harry moved first, placing the book back on the shelf where you’d found it, and made his way over to the bed that sat on the other side of the room. You had only just noticed that he’d changed since you last saw him, long legs nearly bare as his bottom half was only covered by a pair of briefs and a teeshirt over his chest.

With his back turned to you as he turned off the large lamp on the other side of the room, the only source of light now coming from the dim lamp on the bedside table. You couldn’t help the way your eyes dropped to his backside, black fabric hugging over the curve of his ass – impossibly attracted to the man before you.

Eyes falling to a newly exposed tattoo to you as he turned around, not missing the slight bulge in his front before your eyes darted back up to meet his gaze. He had obviously caught you staring, a smirk on his lips that he was doing a terrible job of hiding.

He wordlessly walked over to the edge of his bed, pulling up the covers before sliding his legs over the mattress and settling in underneath the duvet. He looked at you expectantly, patting the spot next to him with his palm smoothing over the pillow.

Silently following his motions, lifting bare legs over the mattress to fall in opposite of him. One of your legs hit his under the heavy blanket; neither of you moved. You were on your side, daring to face him as he peered down at you.

You weren’t close together, but you weren’t that far away either. If you reached out you could easily brush your hand across his cheek, and he could lift his arm around you to pull you in closer. A thick beat of silence passed, gaze only breaking with the occasional blink of an eyelid.

You took a step into unknown waters. “I’ve never felt so comfortable anywhere or… with anyone. So, thank you.”

His lips curved in a dreamy smile. “Why’re you thanking me?”

“Just,” you bit your lips together, voice quieter than the pouring rain. “For making me feel that way.”

“’Course,” the word was so quiet, deep from his chest. “I intend to make you feel all kinds of good things.”

A breathy laugh at his words, paired with a little shake of your head. Though you felt the eruption of butterflies through your stomach, they weren’t nerves and rather were warming your body and making you feel even better than before.

“I’m serious!” He urged at your reaction to the slight innuendo. Lifting himself so that his elbow was tucked under to hold himself up to hover closer to you, leaning forward to press a loud kiss to the side of your forehead.

Turning your head at the action, faces mere inches apart. Letting your eyes dance over the line of his nose, to the dip of his cupid’s bow, until they were tracing the soft curves of his lips.

“You make me feel the same, for the record,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, as you watched his mouth form the words.

Momentarily realizing that you had only gotten one quick taste of his lips that night, that it had been weeks since you’d properly kissed him, you were overcome with the strong urge to kiss him until neither of you could breathe.

Your hand moved on its own accord, reaching across the miniscule space between you until your upper body was somewhat twisting so that you could thread your fingers through Harry’s hair. A light touch against him, curls slipping between your fingers as you saw him lean into your hand.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing as you, as his hand raised to hold a light grip of your forearm and pulled himself closer to you. Leaning down until his nose brushed over your cheek, you let your eyes shut while your mouth parted open.

You raised your head off the pillow, lips puckering and landing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The hand in his hair was pulling him closer to you as he captured your mouth with his. A feather light touch of smooth lips on top of yours, his hand on your arm sliding until it slipped down to rest over your hip. He was pulling you up with a light pressure to draw you in closer, until you were fully resting on your side as well.

“Sunshine,” Harry called against your lips, a quiet hum in his voice. His forehead rested against yours, while you folded your legs towards him to rest more comfortably as you laid propped up on your side.

Then he kissed you, making you forget any fear you’d ever had. His lips moved with yours, not so much with hunger but with desire, wanting nothing more than to feel as close to you as possible. You felt him lick over your lips, easily complying to him as your tongues met with hot need.

His hands were quickly on you, one trailing over your cheek to hold you firmly over your jaw while the other landed against your middle to tug you over towards him. Mouths parting with a hot breath, barely a second apart before they were pressing messily against one another again.

He was pulling quiet gasps from the back of your throat, swallowing every noise you made against him to hold them to memory. Your hand in his hair scratched along his scalp, freely pulling at the soft strands and repeating the action when you felt his chest vibrate with a muted moan.

While your swollen lips pressed hotly together, you felt his hand slide over your hip, resting heavy there for a second with fingertips treading lightly as if considering whether or not to venture lower. Apparently deciding a yes when you whimpered over his lips, his palm smoothed over the curve of your bum and gripped tightly into the skin, the action causing your lower half to push further against him with need.

Tense air of desire surrounded the two of you, actions growing heated while your breathing grew heavier. His hand couldn’t stay in one place, pinching your skin between his fingers as it moved down to your bare thigh. He hooked it in the fold of your knee and pulled your leg up over his own so that you were partially over top of him.

You let out a whine at the feeling of his touch on you, his hand resting where it was for a moment before trailing up north once more. He pushed his palm against the curve of your ass, your hips rubbing onto his thigh in a small motion.

Your leg over him was tightening around his hips as if holding him in place, while his fingertips played with the edge of your underwear and snapped the band over your hip before they were digging into your skin again.

Your mouths parted for a moment, your tongue tenderly licking over his lips as he raised his head towards you to search for more. A soft moan was heard from the back of his throat when your lips fell from his mouth and moved down his jaw, starting a series of feather light touches before your teeth nipped the skin under his earlobe.

His hand smoothed over the top of your hip, edging up under your sweatshirt and over the small of your back. He was gripping you tighter as you kissed down his neck, licking over the sensitive skin. You felt his stomach clench under you, a whimper of your name past his lips when your nails dug into his scalp.

“God, you’re unreal,” Harry panted from above you. “Make me feel – like never before –”

He cut himself off with a groan, while you moved one of your hands along his chest to venture lower and lower with your nails scratching over the fabric of his shirt. You were kissing up the column of his neck, edging the fabric of his shirt up until your fingers met his bare skin.

His lips slid along your temple, own hand leaving from under your sweatshirt and taking a light grasp of your hand just as your fingers edged around his hips and closer to the elastic of his briefs.

“I…” he paused, stopping your hand while you looked up at him in his hesitation. “Fuck I’m sorry – I can’t now, if that’s okay,” he groaned low against you. You saw him squeeze his eye shut, blinking a few times before meeting your eyes.

“I want you,” his voice was raw, and he pushed his hips against yours to accentuate his point as you felt his hardening length through his clothes. “You have no idea how badly I want you. It’s just – been such a long day – I wanna be able to give you everything you need.”

His words sent a rush down your spine, eliciting a little unintentional whine from your throat as you rested your chin on his shoulder and watched him speak. “And ‘m worried I can’t right now –”

A yawn interrupted him and stretched out his jaw, as if his words brought the display of tiredness along.

“Fuck,” he laughed through the yawn. You pushed yourself up a bit, face hovering close to his with a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. “See? I don’t want to fall asleep on you.”

You kissed his jaw, with a quiet whisper. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, watching you shake with a little laugh. “I… I’ve never wanted anyone more,” he whispered hotly against you. “I just…”

“No need to be sorry,” you murmured, capturing his mouth as your teeth grabbed his bottom lip and your hand cupped the side of his face. When you pulled away from his mouth, you nearly missed the small breath of a whine that was sound from the back of his throat.

Brushing your thumb over his cheekbone, you moved your head just far enough away so that his features weren’t blurry to you anymore, while you kept your eyes locked with his. “And I really want you too.”

The weight of his hand left your waist, skin feeling cold without it but instead he wrapped it around the back of your neck, pulling you back in. His fingertips scratched lightly over your scalp, a soft contrast to the way his lips so greedily caught yours.

“You have me,” he whispered, teeth clashing when he spoke. “All of me.”

A whimper echoed past your lips at his words; at the feeling of his mouth on yours, and the way his legs tangled between your own. Mouths slowing against each other, a nearly lazy kiss while you both tried to catch your breaths once more.

You took a breath, wanting to give him as much as he was giving you but not finding the words.

“We can… we can just kiss, yeah? I don’t want to stop.” You mumbled against his mouth while his hand smoothed over your cheek.

“Yes,” he moaned into your mouth. “Just want to hold you close, and…” he never finished his sentence, true to his word and held you close against him and kissed you deeply.

Continuing like that for you didn’t know how long, quiet moans and heavy breaths being the only sounds in the room, hands still gripping each other tightly.

After a while, you felt a small bit of exhaust yourself. The light movements of Harry’s hand running over your arm and up to your neck were starting to calm you down in a way that had your eyelids growing heavy.

Lips slowing over his, you planted lazy kisses over the corner of his mouth and over his chin, while he cupped your jaw to gaze down at you. Eventually, your lips brushed over the column of his neck until you rested your head over his shoulder with a content hum.

Both with swollen lips and heavy eyes, you lay quietly together as sleep slowly took over. His hand kept moving in soothing motions from the curve of your shoulder to the bottom of your scalp, the slow and gentle motions starting to lull you to sleep.

“Long day for you too,” he hummed quietly, words lacing together and his chest vibrated from under you. “You worked today, no?”

Gently parting your eyes at his words, titling your head up so that you could look up at him. “How did you know I worked today?”

A light smile grew on his lips when his eyes met yours, his lips skimmed over your forehead. “Coffee lingers on you.”

“You can smell it?” you giggled. You could always smell it on your hands, your clothes and your hair. But you never knew anyone else noticed.

“Mm I can,” he inhaled exaggeratedly. “Smells good, sunshine.”

You turned your head towards him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder with a laugh. “I’m glad.”

Resting your head against his shoulder, lips puckering to press a soft kiss over his neck before you settled back down over him with a little hum as your eyes fell shut.

You started to slip your leg off of his, but a hand on your thigh quickly stopped you to keep you in place. “Stay right here.” The words were whispered over your forehead, quiet command that had you easily complying.

A peaceful silence fell over the two of you, the only sound coming from the small breaths leaving the two of you. The patter of the rain seemed to have quieted down, and part of you secretly hoped that it would pick back up soon so that you could lounge around the following day without any guilt.

The feeling of his chest that rose and fell under you, paired with the steady beating of his heart and the soft strokes of his fingertips against your skin was soothing you in a way you had never known. “Goodnight Harry.”

“’Night, sunshine.” His voice was barely audible, fingers gripping you just a bit tighter as sleep seeped through your body, an overwhelming sense of peace surrounding you as you rested pressed together. 

The heavy rain was the first thing that you recognized in the early morning. The second thing you felt was the warmth all around you; there was the heavy duvet paired with the familiar and calming noise of a heater going off. The third thing you noticed was the man pressed against you, a thigh between your legs and a hand wrapped around your middle.

You peaked your eyes open, trying to gage what time it was simply from the blinds that had never been closed. The dark grey – nearly black – sky wasn’t giving you too much of an indication but you knew it had to be very early morning.

You were almost in the same position that you had fallen asleep in: on your stomach with your head over Harry’s arm and your hand wrapped around him. You gently moved your head, tilting it up to look up at the presumed still sleeping man by your side. Harry looked so peaceful, eyes shut and lips only slightly parted.

You took a moment to think over everything in the past twelve hours, everything from the night before that had you positively melting in the best way possible.

With the calm that surrounded you, you jolted in his grasp when suddenly he shuffled and his raspy voice sounded in the air. “Morning,”

Head lifting a bit more to get a better view of him, you watched him turn his face as well so that he could peer down at you. “Did I wake you?”

“Been in and out of sleep,” he hummed, his tired eyes glowing when he met your gaze. “You’re awake early.”

“What time is it?” You yawned, moving your hand from where it rested on his chest to rub at your eyes.

“Just past six-thirty,” his eyes never left you, as you felt his hand over your sweatshirt move in small circles.

“I’m used to waking up early – and hey you’re up early too.” The small hint of a laugh sounded through your tone and you felt yourself waking up.

You saw his eyebrows furrow. “Do you have to get to work?”

“No,” you shook your head, content smile gracing your lips at the reminder that you in fact did not have to go into work. “I’m off today.”

The crease in his brow disappeared, a mirror of your smile on his own mouth. “The whole day?”

“The whole day,” you confirmed.

He shifted, keeping you close while he rolled over to his side and helped you do the same until you were both lying facing each other. Limbs were still tangled, one of his hands keeping a tight grip around your back and he had a leg still between your own. Your arm was reached between the two of you, moving to brush along his neck while the other one rested underneath your head.

“And any other plans for the day?”

“None,” your voice dropped back down to a whisper, his gaze intent on yours as you felt his hand slide lower over your back. “What about you?”

“None,” he mirrored, voice still carrying a slight rasp. Silence fell over you again, this time only the rain against the window filling in the gaps.

You were about to speak again, when a slight move interrupted you. A slight move of his leg between yours that caught you off guard when his thigh brushed over your covered centre in a motion that could be seen as accidental but with the way he was looking at you, you were sure he had every purpose in the world.

“D’you have any dreams last night?” He spoke quietly, voice low for a reason you were sure to be other than the fact that he had just woken up.

“No, I – I don’t think so,” you hummed, feeling his thigh move once more to rest easily against your underwear covered heat, as if taunting you to rub over him. “Did you?”

“Mm I thought I did,” he said slowly. His hand stopped at the small of your back, applying a steady pressure to nudge you forward; both closer to him and over his thigh. “Thought for a second that last night was a dream.”

“It wasn’t,” you whispered.

You saw his eyes glued to your mouth when you spoke the words. Watching his eyelids briefly flutter closed, your head moved over the pillow just the slightest bit as if moving in to kiss over your jaw but he stopped himself.

“Certainly wasn’t,” he murmured, gripping your lower back tighter when he pushed you over him with a little more force. A whine from your lips was barely audible when your centre rubbed over him with a bit more pressure.

“How do you feel?” His voice seemed to drop even lower, smooth in your ear. “Still tired?”

“No,” you whispered, a growing ache dropping through your stomach and straight to the spot between your thighs at the growing tension. “You?”

“Wide awake,” he breathed out, a slow blink before his gaze met yours once again.

It was as if unspoken words were shared between the two of you, conversation from the night before of “not right now” fluttering through both of your heads. Was now the time? The anticipation was slowly driving you crazy. You certainly wanted now to be it, and with the way he was looking at you, you found it safe to assume he felt the same.

He brought his hand that wasn’t against your back to the bottom of your jaw, somewhat tilting your head up so that your face was angled towards his.

“I’d really like to kiss you again,” he hummed softly, eyelids still heavy as his thumb brushed gently over your skin. He looked at you in a way that made you feel like you were on fire, a way that would normally have you avoiding his gaze but right now all you could do was stare back at him with hopefully just as much intensity.

“Then do it.”

You caught the way his eyes fell down to your lips when you spoke. You wrapped your arm further around him, pulling yourself closer over the mattress until your chests were nearly completely pressed together. Pressing down just the slightest bit over his thigh, enough to have him grip you tight and he didn’t waste another second before he got everything out of you he wanted.

His mouth landed along your jaw, a series of loud pecks in a line leading to your chin. His shoulder against yours, he twisted his body until he was hovering over you and pushing you onto your back. Supporting himself on his elbows, he took a second to gaze down at you as one of his hands cupped the side of your face.

His thumb made contact with your mouth first, softly tracing the outline of your lips with the pad of the finger before his mouth captured the trail he had just drawn.

Every kiss with him felt like the first time, like every nerve in your body was alert and that Harry was the only thing occupying your mind. His mouth moved languidly on yours, soft strokes of your lips sliding together. His tongue easily slipped into your mouth, smooth licks over each other in slow movements.

His chest pressed against yours, half his body resting over you as his chin bumped yours as the soft kisses deepened. He was giving you everything he possibly could, wanting to savour every moment as the soft mutterings of “we have all day” rang through his ears.

A hum resonated through your chest, the feeling of his hand smoothing over your neck warming your skin. He repeated the motions, holding a grip to your jaw. He seemed unable to hold you in just one place, touching you, feeling you wherever he could.

His other hand had slid between your bodies, gripping into the material of your (his) sweatshirt tightly. The fabric had ridden up on your thighs, the hem of it sitting right below your stomach and your bare legs tangled with his. The blanket over the two of you was falling off to the side, neither caring all that much as heat was coursing around you.

Breaking apart for a moment, both of your breathing growing heavier and you could feel his heart beating faster against you. Your eyes parted open, meeting his gaze while the lip that he had bit into was then tucked between your own teeth.

You felt a laugh slip past your mouth, chest lightly shaking and you saw his mouth widen in a dimple popping smile. You didn’t know why you were laughing, just feeling so light and at peace in that moment that you couldn’t help the little giggle of bliss.

He leant back down, teeth clashing in another elated kiss. Picking up right where you had left off, smiles slowly falling as a subtle intensity grew. Your soft chuckles being replaced with quiet moans, hasty fingers gripping at each other as if the other were about to disappear.

Heavy tension floated between your bodies, unable to help yourself from the small jolt of your hips over his thigh. He urged you to repeat the action, pushing against you hotly while your mouths greedily indulged the other. You could feel him resting hard against your leg, the thought of having been the one to get him there just further turning you on.

Both your arms wrapped around him, one holding into the thin fabric of his shirt while the other was laced through his hair. Your tugs in the strands were growing tighter when he drove his hips forward. You felt one of his own hands venture lower under the duvet, meeting the bare skin of your hip and grabbing into the skin. Pulling your leg around him, allowing space for him to settle in between your legs.

His head hung in the crook of your neck, peppering pecks over the curve before he was sucking soft kisses over your skin. Moans no longer being muffled by his mouth over yours, he quietly urged you on with a never-ending series of kisses.

“Really gonna kill me,” he muttered, the hint of a smirk evident in his voice.

A breathy laugh was all you could muster, focused on the way his hand was edging under your sweatshirt and feeling over the warm skin of your tummy. He pulled himself away, chest heaving in the air as he moved down to press a heavy kiss over your mouth. His tongue moved slowly over your lips, pulling away with a tug of the sensitive swollen skin.

Harry sat up on his knees, shifting over so that he was by your legs with his hands still holding you. The action had caused the blanket to nearly fully fall off, now only barely covering half your legs. Your eyes skimmed over his form, dark shadows beneath every dip in his body. You couldn’t help but stare at the clear as day outline of his length in his briefs, seeming painfully hard and heavily restrained by the thin fabric. You had to bite back a moan at the sight.

He was leaning forward again, his other hand pushing up under the shirt that was riding high on your middle. His eyes followed his motions, the heavy silence interrupted when he cleared his throat.

“Can I undress you?”

His sultry tone and heavy gaze had caused goosebumps to rise on your skin, no matter the heat that surrounded you. “Yes please.”

A hand on either side of you, hem of your sweatshirt hitting his wrists as he pushed up slowly over your chest. His fingertips trailed over your skin as they did so, trickling up and over the swell of your breasts. Soft graze over your nipple had a little gasp emitting from the back of your throat, your eyes flicking up to his to see his gaze glued to the new skin exposed to him.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbled, as you lifted yourself up a bit to help him push the shirt up and over your head, before it was completely forgotten and tossed aside. He hovered closer to you, hands following the line of your shoulders before dropping down to palm over your breasts.

Massaging them in both hands, fully cupping over them as he felt their weight in his palms. He wasted no time, dropping his head lower until his lips met the skin he was so enamoured by.

Hot lick over your nipple, lips circling around the skin as you felt a hum of vibrations when he moaned around you. Both hands were all over you, as if he was unable to stop his indulgence in his admiration for your chest. You gasped into the air when his teeth grazed over your overly sensitive nipple, leaving it nice and wet before he watched the nub harden once more in the cool air.

A trail of his mouth along your upper chest, stopping with swift nips at your skin followed by soft sucks. He was no doubt leaving a few marks to keep an impression of his mouth on you. Giving the majority of his attention to your other breast, hands still occupying as much space on the soft skin as he possibly could.

The sight of wet patches over your chest had you let out an involuntary moan, the feeling of his mouth over you driving the ache between your thighs to a nearly unbearable pressure.

“Harry…” you whined, hand trailing over his neck and to his scalp as you called his name once more.

“Completely fuckin’ breathtaking,” his voice vibrated over your skin, as he pressed a loud kiss over your sternum. “My sunshine,” his lips moved over your collarbone, “angel,” a kiss to the column of your neck. “My tangerine orange.”

His mouth was over your jaw, as he fell back down to his side to rest over the mattress. One arm supporting himself so that he could lean over you, the other still resting at the underside of your breasts while his thumb rubbed small circles into your skin.

“A tangerine?” You giggled around the words, unable to help but sound breathless as your head was spinning over the attention he was showing you. He lifted his head to meet your gaze, pupils a bit blown and a lopsided grin on his mouth. “You’re going to peel me open and eat me?”

You didn’t realize the innuendo behind your words until they left your mouth, the sudden memory of the way Harry had made you cum on the floor of his studio causing the heat between your legs to grow. A silly little smirk grew on his lips, a soft hum from his throat before he spoke again.

“Yes, exactly.” His chest shook with a laugh, lips puckering to land a kiss over your skin.

“You’re so sunny,” he whispered, hand venturing lower over your hips.

His tongue licked over your skin, “taste delicious.”

The hand on your hip slid over to your thigh, pinching your skin as it slid to the inside of your leg. You parted your legs instinctively, allowing him more space. “Want to spread you open.”

Your eyes briefly fluttered shut at his words, just as his lips fell to your mouth, kissing you deeply. The action nearly distracted you from his hand that was still sitting low, massaging into the skin of your thigh.

“You have to –” he took a heavy breath, your eyes opening to meet his when he spoke. “You have to tell me what you want, okay? Need to make sure you feel good.”

“Okay,” you breathed, promise in his words heavy. “You too.”

“What do you need right now, sunshine?”

His fingertips were so close to where you longed to feel anything. You found yourself at a loss for words for a second, hyper focused on the feeling of his hand tickling your inner thigh. “Can I?” He brought your attention back to his words whispered over your neck. “Tell me if I can.”

“God, yes,” you moaned into the air, arm around him gripped him tighter just as his fingers grazed over your covered clit. His thumb started with small circles over you for a brief second, reveling in the way your legs shook with the pressure that he had been building.

“Feel that…” he groaned, when his fingertips slipped past the elastic. He pushed your underwear aside for two fingers to slide through your wetness.

Your legs parted unprompted, making space between your thighs for his hand as he felt his way through your slit, no doubt soaking his fingers on you before pressing over your clit. He breathed a quiet curse, withdrawing his fingers from you to push your underwear down. Peeling the fabric off your lower half, you lifted your hips up into the air to make his job easier.

The garment easily forgotten, you kicked it off by the end of the mattress and focused on the way Harry’s fingertips circled over your clit. His head lifted from where it was hanging by your shoulder, feeling his hot breath hit the side of your cheek. You turned your head on the pillow, eyes meeting his.

You think you felt yourself grow wetter just by the way he was watching you so intently, as if he was silently demanding that you keep your eyes locked with his. His beautiful eyes watched every reaction you had and every sound you made due to his hand between your thighs.

Drawing him in closer with the arm you had around his neck, he complied and landed a kiss to your cheek. Moving to the corner of your mouth, before fully capturing your lips with his in a deep kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, just as his fingers slid over your slit until one was pushing into you. A whimper resonated through your chest, the feeling of his finger slowly dipping into you already had you clenching. He bit down on your lower lip, sharp inhale at the feeling of your warmth around him.

Unable to kiss him properly as heavy breaths left your mouth, he dragged his lips down your jaw until they were latched to your neck once more. You brought your other hand to his chest, nails digging into his skin as your back arched with the slow and steady feeling of his finger inside of you.

Pushing your hips onto his hand, his palm pushing against your clit as you did so. You couldn’t help the moan at the feeling, paired with his teeth nipping and lips kissing over the sensitive skin of your neck. As he laid on his side, you felt his length push against your hip with small nudges into your skin.

His lips slid lower, just as he pushed another finger inside of you with a slow motion. “Good?”

“So good,” you responded quickly. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t intend to,” he muttered, listening to you with his fingers pushing in and curling against the spot that had you bucking up to meet his movements.

His lips kissed down the swell of your breasts, mouth circling over your nipple with a soft hum from his chest. Teeth grazing over the sensitive spot, pulling whines from your throat as he continued to tease you.

The deep pit of tension from the bottom of your stomach was building, as you felt yourself craving to feel come undone below him. You could hear his fingers move in your wetness, the obscene sound somehow turning you on even more as your arousal was evident.

His mouth left your skin, lifting himself up slightly so that he could watch you. Your hips were pushing up trying to find a rhythm with his fingers, his palm tight against your clit as you couldn’t get enough of the feeling. You were shamelessly chasing your high, already feeling edged closer and closer to it after the long-built anticipation.

His thumb brushed your clit, the pressure as he worked to push you towards your high. Your nails were digging into his chest, gripping him tightly from the side as you pushed your back into the mattress with an arch to spine.

Euphoric sensation floating through your veins, heading straight to your wet centre where his fingers were swiftly working you over. Pumping the two inside you in fast motions, hitting the post along your walls that had you biting your lip so hard you were sure to taste a sting of blood.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, voice breaking out of a whisper as you couldn’t help the raise in tone. You felt good, overwhelmingly so and you wanted nothing more than to feel yourself come undone over Harry’s hand.

“Please, do” his voice was low, hoarse. “I wanna feel you.”

You whimpered at his words, eyes shutting tighter with moans leaving your mouth at the pleasure shooting down your legs and up your spine.

A hum was sound from his throat, he spoke a small “love” in an attempt to grab your attention.

“Look at me.”

Complying at the roughness in his voice, your eyelids parting open to watch him with parted lips and clammy skin. His eyes were dark, intent on your every breath. Arm flexing as his fingers quickly fucked you, while your hand grabbed his bicep tightly when you felt you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His pace was quick, deep and calculated, noticing what moves he did that made you moan. It was so intensely attractive to you, how closely he watched and wanted you to enjoy yourself.

You could hear mumbling incoherently, unable to decipher or even try and listen to what he was saying as the pressure built and built until you were coming undone around him.

Hips jolting up as he curled his fingers, rubbing over your clit while you choked around your moans. You held him tightly, nails digging into his shoulder as you felt like you needed to hold on to him, onto anything otherwise you would drift away in your pleasure.

He breathed heavily while he watched you, falling back down to his side with his face resting in the crook of your neck. His fingers slowly withdrew from you, still pressing light touches onto your sensitive clit causing your legs to twitch at the feeling. “Harry.”

“Dreamt of you like this,” his words laced together, muttered against your skin. He gave you loud smacks of kisses onto your shoulder, along with his soft mutterings. “Real thing is so much better.”

With hot cheeks and swollen lips, you lifted yourself up on one elbow to hold yourself up and face him. He fell onto his back, just as you were positioned seconds ago and withdrew his hand from between your thighs. Wet fingers raised, slipping them past his lips to taste you with a low hum from deep in his chest.

Gripping your jaw with said hand, pulling you in for a deep kiss. As much as he kissed you this morning, as much as he kissed you in the past day, you could not get enough of the feeling of his mouth. Your own hand lingered over his chest, tracing uneven patterns over him.

You dug your nails a bit harder into his stomach, feeling it clench from under you. Almost as a soothing action for yourself as you settled from your high, you ran mismatched patterns over his front. Dipping lowered and teasing the band of the briefs that he was still wearing, your nails dug into his skin just as an audible groan left Harry’s lips.

He muttered a quiet “killing me,” over your mouth, his hand leaving your jaw and landing over your own hand that rested on his chest.

His fingers laced with yours, and he carried your hand with his and placed it directly over his bulge. Squeezing your hand in his, matching whines from the two of you at the action. Yours at the weight of him in your hand, and his at the feeling of finally having your hands on him.

As if you had switched positions, this time you held yourself propped up on your side so that you could hover over him. His hand left yours, soft groan as you freely palmed over the very defined bulge in his underwear. You kept your eyes stuck to your motions, not even realizing the way your lip slipped between your teeth at the feeling of him.

Pushing yourself up on your hand, sitting up with the rest of the blanket falling off your body. But you didn’t care, you didn’t need the extra heat.

You tugged at the elastic that sat tight against his hips, fingertips slipping under it and over the hot skin. Casting him a quick glance, seeing his eyes locked on your hands, chest rising and falling with a small furrow between his brows.

You pulled down his briefs to the middle of his thighs, watching the way his hardened length rested against his skin. One of your hands trailed up his thigh, resting just under his hipbone. A sharp breath on Harry’s part was heard as your other hand firmly gripped his length.

Circling your fingers around him, a soft stroke until your palm became sticky with his precum. Moving your thumb over his tip, applying more pressure as you saw the way his stomach clenched and his legs jerked with a bend in the knees.

Your silent gaze landed on his face, just as he looked up to meet your eyes. Withdrawing your hand from him, you pushed your thumb past your parted lips to wet it nicely. His eyes greedily watched the way you sucked, moaning your name as a beg while his hand gripped yours on his thigh.

Bringing your hand down to circle your wet thumb over his tip again, giving him slow tugs while you listened to every noise he made. Every small pant of your name and whine into the air. You had never felt more turned on by someone else’s reaction to you than right now.

“You look,” you bit your lip with a smile, looking for the right words as you slowly pumped your hand around him, “really sexy.”

He tried to let out a chuckle, the sound being cut with a moan when you circled your thumb over his tip.

Bending down, you pressed a kiss at the underside of his navel while you worked over his length. Kisses pressed following the trail of hair that led south, before Harry grabbed your shoulder to stop you. “You can’t…” he choked as you sat up straight once more, withdrawing every inch of skin from his so that you were no longer touching at all. “I’m already bursting for you, I don’t want to –��� he paused, “– I mean, do you want to have sex?”

You leant forward, palms over his chest once more as you found yourself unable to go without touching him. “Yeah, I really do.”

He pushed himself up, sitting closer to you. “Okay,” he rushed, one hand running through his hair. “Okay.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his flustered state, watching as he yanked his briefs off the rest of the way down his legs, letting them fall to the floor. He pushed himself up more until he was sliding off the bed, your hands falling from him once more while you watched him stand. “I know I’ve got condoms somewhere –”

And then he was walking away from you, with a quick “stay where you are!” called over his shoulder. You did just as he said, falling down to your back and rolling over to your side with your head resting on your hand, watching him disappear around a corner.

He was back moments later, from the washroom you presumed because you didn’t know where someone would keep condoms other than by their bed. You watched him stand at the edge of the mattress, head dipped down as he threw the wrapper to the ground and rolled the condom over himself.

He took a heavy breath, lifting his legs to kneel over the mattress as he reached out for your legs. Large palms over your calves, he slid them up with soft circles of his thumbs into your skin before he spoke a low “can I have you on your belly?”

Easily complying, you fell forward so that your chest was pressed into the mattress and your cheek against the pillow. You felt his hands slide up your legs, over your thighs until he was gripping the swell of your bum. First you felt his breath hit your skin, then his lips kissed over the skin with a light lick on his tongue. Continuing the motions as he moved up, from the bottom of your spine until he was laying on his side right next to you. Touching you all over, you felt one of his hands graze over the soft skin of your stomach and pull you up, so that your back was pressed firmly into his chest in a spooning position.

Adjusting yourself gently, bending your knees so that they could support you over the mattress. You shifted your lower half, his cock pushing right against your bum. You felt his lips glaze over the crook of your neck, face buried in your skin and he peppered the surface with kisses.

“Are you okay like this?” His voice was muffled by your skin. “We can do it however you’d like…”

Twisting your head so that your eyes could meet, you shot him a reassuring smile. His gaze was heavy on you, desire written all across his features as he followed the small nod of your head. “More than okay.”

He leant forward, forearm wrapping around you to grip your jaw and press his mouth hot and hard over yours, just as a moan of your name resonated through his chest. You could feel him pushing against your bum, the anticipation of feeling him inside of you causing the ache between your legs to become nearly unbearable. His mouth parted from yours, hot promises of making you feel good pressed against your jaw before your cheek was resting against the pillow once more while you were silently begging to feel him inside of you.

A hand was between your bodies, he was gripping his length to push over your folds and get himself wet over you. A quiet moan at the feeling, you couldn’t help but nudge your bum back to rub over his cock. He repeated the action, quiet curses leaving his mouth as his tip found your entrance and he slowly but surely edged himself in.

The intense feeling of him filling you had you gasping out his name. You were certain it was a combination of the closeness of the position and simply the fact that it was Harry behind you, as you’d never felt yourself melt completely into another person like this.

His hand circled around your side, parting your legs a bit further while you pushed back into him. He didn’t stop until his hips were pressed tight against your backside, and a low exhale fell over your shoulder.

“You feel,” he stuttered lightly, firm grip of his hand over your hip.

“How does it feel?” You breathed, turning your head around once more to gaze up at him. He moved his hips, painstakingly slow for the both of you as you moaned at the feeling of him inside of you. His head fell down to brush his mouth over your jaw, hot breath fanning over the expanse of your neck. “Feels incredible,” he babbled. “You’re so fucking… feels amazing.”

Your cheek fell back over the pillow, eyes falling shut and he started to pump his hips into you at a steady pace. You could feel him everywhere around, hitting so deep within you. Soft moans of praises were freely falling from his lips, never seeming to go that long without skimming them along your skin.

His hand slid up from your hip, resting over your lower stomach to guide you over him while he pushed quickening thrusts into you. You let out a heavy pant at the feeling of him rubbing deliciously against spots that made your vision blur. Your hands fisted into the pillow, moving your hips in small rolls to push back on him.

He pumped into you harder, hitting dipper as the pleasure within both of you grew. You moaned when one of his hands slid up your tummy to grip your breasts, massaging the sensitive skin in a way that had you clenching around him.

Your name fell from his lips, kisses planted on the nape of your neck. There seemed to be virtually no space between both your bodies, connected so closely it was making you dizzy.

His fingers pinched over your nipple, eliciting a sharp inhale from your before he moved his hand up to grip your jaw. Titling your head towards him once again, not wasting a second before he leant over and connected your lips. Kisses were rough and messy, licking over lips and hot moans pressed together.

He trailed wet kisses over your jaw, and to the bottom of your earlobe. Muttering hot praises into your ear, telling you how hot you felt and how much he wants to feel your come undone for him. His hand skimmed back down over your neck, blindly grabbing at your breasts and sliding down your stomach.

The sounds filling the room were filthy, paired with the heavy rain outside and the occasional loud motorist. It was something out of a dream, the serenity of your surroundings paired with the euphoria you were feeling.

In a steady rhythm, hips snapping in time together as Harry’s teeth tugged on your earlobe. He was making every delicious sound possible, losing himself in the feeling of you. Shallow breaths hitting your skin as the feeling of his forehead resting over your shoulder weighted over you.

You hummed, lifting your arm around so that you could stroke your fingers over his cheek, pushing through his hair.

“Can – can we switch positions? I wanna see you…” you called, feeling his hand over you stop moving.

“God,” he said quickly, words hitting the back of your shoulder. “Anything you want.”

He slowly withdrew himself from you, both letting out small pants of the feeling of no longer being connected to the other. You pushed yourself up, sitting on your legs as you turned yourself to be able to properly see Harry.

His hair was falling wildly over his forehead, lips deep pink and eyes dark as he watched you move around him. His hand was still on your hip, pressing against your skin as if to push you to lie down on the mattress, but you softly shook your head.

“I want to be on top,” you whispered while you lifted a leg so that you had a knee resting on either side of his hips, your hands landing on his shoulders to help him fall against the mattress. You lowered yourself to sit just at his hips, hovering over him with a kiss planted directly on his mouth. Kissing him deeply as one of your hands rested between your bodies, blindly wrapping your hand around his cock.

“Anything,” his voice was hoarse as he returned your affection. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want,” your hand squeezing him lightly in your palm. “To make you feel good – want to make you feel the way you make me feel.”

You moved your hips over him in a slick motion. He groaned against your mouth, lips easily parting and unable to focus on kissing you back as the feeling of you touching him the way you were was driving him absolutely crazy.

You lifted on your knees, chest leaving his when you sat up straighter. Bowing your head to watch the way he entered you once again, sinking back down around him. Heavy eyes flicking back to his, seeing him just as enthralled with the way the two of you connected.

His heavy hands were gripping onto your hips, a shaky breath leaving his lips as you bottomed out over him. “Don’t know how much longer I’m going to last…” he whispered, eyes meeting yours as one of your hands moved from his shoulder to brush over his jaw.

“That’s okay,” you breathed, swivelling your hips over his. His palm slid over the curve of your ass, fingertips digging into the skin when you moved again. The feeling caused a rush of heavy desire to course down to your heat. “Me neither.”

He was moaning when you started to move your hips on his, sliding over his length as you searched for a rhythm. He felt just as deep like this, just as snug inside of you and you couldn’t help but call out his name while you pumped your hips with his.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, eyes falling over your frame, from your chest to the space where you connected as he watched you move over him. “You look so fucking good like this I –”

You trailed a hand down his chest, fingertips falling over your own lower tummy before they were sliding down your wet clit. He watched you greedily, unable to tear his eyes away from the way that you started playing with yourself.

Rubbing light circles over your clit, heat in your belly burning once again. The combination of the deep strokes of his cock inside of you that was hitting against spots that made your vision blur, and the added pleasure of your own fingers over your wet clit, you were being sent closer to another orgasm.

Harry’s hand circled around your wrist after a moment, tugging your arm towards him until he was slipping the two fingers that had been wettened by your cunt into his mouth. You fluttered around him at the sight of him sucking on your fingers, your thumb pressing firmly on the underside of his jaw when you pushed your fingers further into his mouth.

Feeling his tongue swirl around the digits, you rocked your hips faster over him and you moaned at the view of the man below you. Your hand fell from his mouth when he let go of your wrist, wet fingers sliding over his neck before you were holding his shoulder tightly once again.

A surprised squeak was sound from your mouth when Harry pressed a hand into the mattress behind him and raised himself to a seated position, causing you to fall back against his thighs. You held onto his shoulders, an incredulous laugh sounding past your mouth at the fast motion that had you briefly fearing that you would topple over backwards.

“Alright?” A small chuckle laced his word, although when you shifted over him so that you were properly seated on his thighs with your knees still planted into the plush mattress, his voice caught in his throat.

“Yeah,” your own voice was feeble, airy.

It was the closest you’d ever felt to another person, his chest grazing yours with every heavy inhale as his head dipped down so that he could kiss over your shoulder. His hips started moving up to meet yours, quick thrusts into you as the both of you neared your climax.

Needy for his mouth, you pushed a hand through his hair as you searched for his lips with half closed eyelids. As you tugged on the curly strands, he quickly accepted your kiss with one hand on the small of your back to keep pushing you down over him in tight motions. Chests now pressed flush together, you were moaning into his mouth while he murmured small praises.

“Please,” he begged, unsure of what he was asking for, just knowing he needed something. “How is it – do you feel good? Please …”

“So fucking good,” you moaned around the words. Eyes opening, pulling at his hair so that you could gaze up at him. Desperate eyes watched him, watched the furrow pull in his brow as his hips pumped with yours with quick snaps, wanting nothing more than to have you come undone around him once more. “I’m so close –”

“Please,” he repeated, one of his hands moving from your backside and snaking around your front, shoved tightly between your bodies as he blindly searched for your clit. Rubbing quick small circles over the sensitive bud. The feeling paired with the pleas of having you cum around him that were kissed over your neck, being just what you needed to push you over the edge.

You pressed your lips to his when you came, lips wrapping around his bottom lip as your teeth pulled on the sensitive skin. Calling out his name into his mouth, fingernails digging deep into his skin. You saw the moon, you saw the stars, and most importantly you saw nothing but Harry.

Your hips lost their rhythm over his when you squeezed him tight, grinding down onto his pelvis as a moan was sound from deep in your chest. You tugged at his hair, begging him to kiss you again while your hands desperately gripped at his skin.

He kissed you fiercely, tongue sliding over your lips as you barely had the ability to kiss him back. His hips were still jerking against yours, motions growing more and more frenzied as he bit onto your lips, low mutterings of praises and whines of wanting to cum.

And he soon did, pushing everything he could of himself as he came into the condom. His hands never stopped tracing over your spine, giving your backside sharp pinches as he moaned deeply. Twitching against you as the two of you came down together, his head resting over the crook of your shoulder while he took deep breaths through his nose.

He kissed along your shoulder, mouth wet over your skin. Your fingers traced over his neck, every nerve in your body feeling sensitive as you started to shift over him. You were both quiet, other than heavy breaths and fast beating hearts.  

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, but after a while the throbbing in your legs died down and you were able to swing a leg over and slide off of him. You fell over on the mattress with a breathless laugh, a content feeling seeping through you as you laid back on the bed.

Watching Harry push his hair from his face, biting his swollen lips together as he watched you with hearts in his eyes. ���How are you?”

You hummed, dreamy smile on your mouth. “I’m good – best I’ve been in a while I think.”  

He smiled as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss over your temple with a muttered “me too”.

Butterfly kisses over your skin, a soft “give me a sec,” before he lifted himself up and swung his legs over the mattress, sliding off the bed and rounded the corner away from you.

True to his word, he was back seconds later after presumably disposing of the condom and cleaning himself up, and he pulled on a pair of shorts that hung low on his hips. “Did you want shorts, or pants to wear?”

“Maybe some pants?” You hummed from where you sat on the mattress. He nodded, handing you a pair of pastel multicoloured sweatpants.

You lifted  your hips from the mattress, pulling the pants over your bottom half before you settled back down. Harry grabbed the blanket from where it had fallen off the bed, laying it over you before he slipped in as well.

You shifted closer to him, accepting his arm that wrapped around your bare stomach and pulled your chest against his. You settled in deeper into the pillows, smiling contently as you felt yourself starting to grow tired.

He watched the way your eyelids started to flutter close, pulling more of the blanket over your back. He pulled it off of where it fell to the ground, draping it over you and the bed before sliding in next to you. “Get some rest – we have all day, yeah?”

You hummed into the pillow, feeling him tighten around you as your breasts pressed into his skin. His other hand was smoothing over your neck just as it was when you fell asleep together last night, the action slowly and surely lulling you to sleep.

Harry watched you as he felt sleep overtake him as well, he watched the slow and steady rise of your chest. He could feel your heart beating against him, resonating with his own heartbeat as if the two had fallen in synch. 

Hours past before you woke up again. The sky was a bit lighter than previously, hard rain still hitting the window from outside as it never seemed to let up.

Your bare chest was tight against Harry’s, skin sticking together. Soft exhales were coming from his parted lips. He had an arm wrapped around you, the occasional twitch of his finger as he moved in his sleep.

Moving over on the mattress, slowly waking up as you raised yourself on your elbows to gaze down at Harry. Leaning over him to kiss over his closed eyelid, gently removing his arm from your middle before sliding off the bed. You easily found the abandoned sweatshirt from the morning, tugging it over your bare top half.

Remembering where his washroom was, you took a quick glance to see the pouring rain outside before flicking on the light switch to the room. Uncapping the toothpaste that rested over the counter, grabbing the toothbrush that you used the previous night.

Due to the briefly running tap, you hadn’t heard the rustle in sheets and feet on the ground that was coming from the adjacent room. Harry was soon poking his head in from the parted door, tousled hair falling over his forehead as he shot you a lazy smile through the mirror.

He hesitated by the door frame for a second, then taking a few steps towards you so that he could stand behind you. Wrapping both arms around you with his chest pushing into your back, he titled his head to kiss over your jaw.

“Morning again,” he murmured, teeth teasingly pulling at your earlobe.

You couldn’t respond with your mouth full of toothpaste, keeping your eyes on him through the mirror. His grip around you loosened a little when you bent down to spit out the toothpaste and rinse out your mouth.

“Hi,” the word whispered as you turned in his grip, raising a hand to scratch over the thin layer of stubble that lined in jaw.

“Want to make something to eat?”

You nodded, mirroring the smile on his mouth as you traced the dimple over his cheek. “Music to my ears.”

Following Harry to his kitchen. It was small, not much counter space you noticed but he had a little table up against the wall that held bowls of fruit and a cutting board. He opened up the cupboard, tapping his fingertips against the wood while he gazed at the contents. “I do have the fixings for pancakes if you’d like…” he moved to the fridge, opening it up, “or eggs…”

He turned back to you, gaging your reaction. “What sounds good to you?”

“Whatever is easiest,” you smiled, leaning back against the counter across from him.

“Not whatever is easiest – what did you want to eat?” He laughed lightly, facing you.

You paused, biting your smile back as he urged you to make a choice what you liked best. “Pancakes.”

“Perfect,” his smile grew, as he turned back to the cupboard he had just opened. “Some fruits too?”

“Yes please.”

He pulled out the mix he already had to make pancakes, grabbing a bowl and a wooden spoon to start getting everything together. You went to see what kind of produce he had, picking out some apples and oranges that sat together in a bowl.

He saw you searching through drawers, clicking his tongue. “Have a seat, I can do it.”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs by the little table. You grabbed your phone from where it had sat all night by the counter, scrolling through recent notifications before opening up your Spotify to play some music while you prepared your meal.

Choosing one of the playlists you usually played at work, a soft hum of Nancy Sinatra coming through the speaker as you placed your phone back down on the table and watched him quickly work around the kitchen.

“Do you have coffee?” You asked, eyeing the French press sitting in the corner.

You saw the bag sitting next to the press before he answered your question, as you rose to your feet again to grab the paper bag and twist it open, smelling the ground beans.

“Yes,” he answered, turning around to see you having already found it. “Is it… good?”

You laughed breezily at his nervousness over the coffee he had bought. “I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.”

He had already turned on the kettle, you realized, and you grabbed the French press from where it sat ready to make the two of you a morning cup.

“Hey,” Harry brought your attention to him as you eyeballed the amount of coffee you were putting in. “I can do that – let me make you coffee for once.”

You bit back a smile, filling the press with the amount of coffee you liked before sitting back down. “It’s all yours,” you said, as the kettle clicked.

He turned away from the orange he was peeling, grabbing the kettle from where it sat to pour the hot water into the press.

You held your tongue, for about two seconds before clearing your throat. “A good way to make French press coffee is to pour a little bit in first – just enough to soak all the grounds and then pour the rest.”

He silently nodded, doing as you said and waiting a bit before pouring the rest. “You –”

You cut yourself off, watching as Harry lifted his head up to glance at you when you spoke, tousled hair falling over his forehead. “Hm?”

“It’s good to pour it a little slower…” you started slowly.

He laughed, loud from his chest. “Did you want to do it?”

“No, no! It doesn’t make that much of a difference, just some tips.” You let him finish making the coffee while you searched through some more cupboards for mugs.

Pulling out two ceramic ones, walking over to the fridge as you looked for anything to put into the coffee. Finding a small jug of oat milk, not surprised at the find as you took it out and shook the container a bit out of habit.

“I’m going to assume that you don’t take anything in your coffee…” you peered over at him as you poured some oat milk into what would be your mug.

“I don’t –” he cut himself off, as if about to ask why you would assume that but stopping himself as he remembered that you make him coffee multiple times a week.

He let the coffee in the press sit as he finished preparing the fruit, turning back to where you were leaning against the counter with an orange slice in hand. He wordlessly lifted the slice up towards your mouth, taking several steps forward until he was close in front of you.

“It’s not a tangerine, but…” he mumbled, a little smile playing on his lips as you met his gaze. Opening your mouth to accept the fruits, circling around it along with the tip of his fingers that you easily sucked into your mouth.

For some reason anytime he mentioned a citrus fruit you got butterflies in your stomach. You chewed the fruit as his hand fell from your mouth, thumb swiping under your bottom lip. The sweet flavour filling your mouth as his gaze never left yours. His hands fell to the counter on either side of you, boxing you in closer to him.

You raised a hand, taking hold of his jaw between your index finger and thumb, and pulled his face towards yours. His lips parted as did yours, your tongue licking into his mouth as your hand held him firmly. He tasted the citrus in your mouth, sharing the flavour of the fruit together as you kissed.

A hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you slipped your fingers across his jawline until they were tugging in his hair.

He took another step forward, one foot resting between your two with his hips pushing against yours. He was holding you like he thought that you’d disappear if he let go, as your arms wrapped around him in the same way.

He’d already gotten you worked up, and you would let him take you right there if he wanted.

Fingertips poked under the sweatshirt over your body, nearly feigning innocence as his hands held the skin on your sides, before they were smoothing up until they were holding your breasts. Fingertips massaging into the skin, thumbs rubbing over your nipples in a way that made goosebumps erupt under the sweater.

Edging the article up higher on your body, exposing more of your skin until the underside of your breasts were visible.

“God,” he muttered against your mouth, lips sliding over your jaw as he hung his head lower. “Think I’m obsessed with you.”

Your hand followed the move of his head, as he dipped down lower so that he could press his mouth over your newly exposed chest. Sucking into the skin, hot licks until his teeth grazed over your nipple and you were pulling at his hair a bit tighter. He still cupped his palms around your breasts, enamoured with the way he maneuvered them and the way they felt in his hands.

Mummering his name, you pulled his attention back up to your face and he peered at you with heavy eyes. “Hm?”

“You should push down the press,” you angled your head to where the French press sat still on the counter across from the two of you.

His eyes held a laugh, as his hands fell from your skin and he nodded with a bite of his lip. Turning around from you only for the brief moment needed to slowly push the filter through the coffee before he was facing you from across the kitchen once again.

You followed, bypassing him and grabbing the two mugs that you had prepared for the coffee. Taking hold of the press, you poured two steamy cups of coffee. Silently handing him the one without anything in it, you tried to hide the way that your lips curved upwards by biting your lips together.

Harry grabbed the mug from your hands, bringing it up to his lips and took a small sip after blowing lightly over the surface.

“Careful,” your voice had fallen to a whisper in your proximity.

He only hummed, exaggeratedly smacking his lips together while placing the blue mug down on the counter next to him. “Best cup o’ coffee I’ve ever had.”

You let out what could only be called a giggle, unable to hold back your smile any longer. His hand looped around you once more, fitting into the small of your back to pull you close. Careful not to spill any coffee in the mug that you were holding, doing the same as he had and securing it down on the counter.

“Something tells me that might be a bit of an exaggeration…” you trailed off, free hand now resting over his shoulder.

“Hm,” he shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

His mouth sought out yours once again as you laughed under in his grasp. He pressed a peck over your mouth, staying close as he seemed to hesitate. “Did you want to spend the day?”

“Yeah,” you responded quickly. “If it’s not too much.”

“Can’t be,” he hummed. His head hung low between your neck and shoulder, butterfly kisses over your fabric covered skin. “Can’t ever have too much of you.” 

You locked the doors behind you, shaking the handle slightly to make sure it was truly locked before walking across the floor once more to head back behind the counter. Harry still lingered just at the unmarked line that separated the customer area from the staff area, leaning over the counter.

It had been almost a week since the night at the gallery.

Your days off had been spent with Harry, as he was true to his word and never seemed to be able to get enough of you. And the same sentiment was returned back to him. He had finally put his number in your phone, something the two of you had found funny about the fact that you went this far without even exchanging numbers.

Now, he kept you company as you closed up the café alone.

The fall rain always caused a small dip in customers, the shop never too busy, especially in the later hours of the afternoon.

“Do you have much left to do?”

You neared him by the counter, stepping past him and into the back. “Not too much – all of the main cleaning is done.”

“Can I help?” He had shut his little black sketchbook on the counter, pushing himself up from his elbows to near you.

“If you want…” you hummed happily, seeing him edge closer past the counter and into the staff only area. “Come on,” you giggled, tapping his arm for him to follow.

“Is this allowed?” He hesitated, making you turn back around.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, I know my boss trusts me.”

That seemed to be enough for him, as he trailed behind you towards the espresso machine that you hadn’t finished cleaning.

“Tell me what to do, boss.”

Nudging his hip as he hovered near you, you shook your head with a laugh while reaching to grab the basket that had yet to be cleaned.

“You need to unscrew,” you spoke through your actions, grabbing the little flat screwdriver, and leaning down so that you could see under the grouphead on the machine, “the filter. To clean it all out.”

Grabbing the still hot filter with a rag, putting it in hot water. “And then you put this,” you spooned a small pile of cafiza into the flat filter in the basket. “And put it on a cleaning cycle. That’s kind of it…”

“What can I do?”

“If you want you can keep an eye on this,” you pointed to the lit button. “When it flashes you need to put it through the rinse cycle – just press it and it’ll go through.You could also pour hot water through the bottom, just to get everything inside rinsed out.”

Harry was quiet from next to you, nodding his head. You handed him the metal kettle, showing him where to fill it with hot water as you went to clean out the brew coffee pots. You worked through everything on autopilot, having gone through the same routine over and over that it came with no thought to you.

Keeping an eye on Harry with a smile tugging at your lips, watching as his brows pulled together as he tried to not spill any water other than where he needed to. Rinsing out the old coffee from the pots, you took a step away as the sink filled them with hot water.

“I had an idea…” you started, pulling Harry’s attention to you for a second.

Joining his side once more, you put your hand over his forearm. “I think that’s good,” you hummed. “No matter how much you clean there will always be grounds that find their way back – don’t worry.”

He nodded, putting down the little kettle as his back straightened with a twitch of a smile. “Anything you say, boss.”

You smiled through your words, giving his arm a little shove. “You got the paintings back from the gallery, right?”

Nodding, he kept his gaze on yours with curiosity in his eyes. The show (your show, as he called it) was a short-lived one, all the paintings were back in his apartment as he hadn’t put any of them for sale.

“Well I was thinking – and this is completely up to you – but what if you put one of them up in here?”

You saw his eyebrows rise in interest. “This wall here,” you motioned to the one behind him. “Is always empty. And it’s big and pretty uninteresting, so I was thinking if you wanted… you could but one of yours there.”

“For how long?”

“However long you’d like – it’d be like the café has it on loan.”

His smile grew. “And that would be okay?”

“I checked with the owner, she said that I can decorate the place however I’d like so…” you quickly leant over to the sink, shutting off the tap before facing him again. “It’s up to you.”

“You’ve already checked with her,” Harry grinned cheerfully, moving closer to you. “Thought this through, have you?”

You bit back a smile. “Yeah, I have.”

“I’d love to, I think it’s a great idea.”

“Really?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I really do. Did you have one in mind already?”

“Well…” you paused. “I do – the big one of the café. With the yellow and the orange. I think I’d be perfect.”

He turned around, arms crossing over his chest as he faced the off-white empty wall. There were a few coffee stains towards the bottom that no one would notice unless they knew they were there.

“I think so too,” he nodded, glancing at you from over his shoulder.

You smiled widened. “Yeah?”

“Do you think I could go get it now – that we could put it up tonight?”

“That sounds perfect. Would you need help carrying it over?” You asked, as Harry was already walking around the counter to grab his jacket.

“It should be fine, I’ve carried it before.”

You nodded, watching as he grew more excited and ready to bolt out the door. “I can finish up closing here while you go get it.”

“Should I grab screws or tools or anything?”

“I’ve got some here – we have a little tool kit.”

He patted his pocket, grabbing his phone that was on the counter. “Lovely. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Before heading out towards the door, he moved around the corner of the counter so that he could grab a firm grasp of your jaw, tilting your head up to him. Leaning towards you, mouth hovering by yours as lips were barely touching. “Amazing idea, sunshine”

You nudge forward the slightest bit, fully connecting your lips in a lasting kiss before he headed into the cold air outside.

Finishing up your closing duties while he was gone, turning off all appliances that needed and screwing back in the filter once everything had been nice and soaked. You had already started to count the coins before closing, so the final cash out didn’t take too long.

You were doing some extra tasks to help out the opening staff for the following day, when a rattle of a knock was heard on the glass of the front door.

Jumping in your skin at first at the surprising noise, quickly calming down when you saw Harry waving at you through the window. Fast step over to the door, you propped it open for him so that he could slide the bigger than you remembered canvas inside.

He had it wrapped in brown paper to protect the outside, leaning it over the wall by the door as he ran a hand through his hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“That was fast,” you said, making sure you re-locked the door after letting him in.

“It’s close by,” he shrugged, grabbing hold of the wrapped canvas once more as you helped him bring it around the counter. “Are you all done with everything?”

“Yes – and I texted my boss and she said it's no problem to stay a bit later to put this up tonight.”

You grabbed the small folding step stool from the back, along with the tool kit that you hoped contained everything that was needed.

“Here we go,” you placed the box over the counter. “What did you need?”

“Screws, if you have them.” He hovered close next to you, watching as you rifled through the various things. “They’re better at holding up canvases – more stable.”

“Aha,” finding a little bag that contained a couple dozen screws, all of various lengths and sizes. Harry fished out a few of them, deciding that three should be enough for the frame to hang off of.

You watched as he vaguely measured out the wall and where to place the screws, promising that he knew what he was doing and wouldn’t end up with unnecessary holes in the wall.

Lifting yourself up to sit over the counter as he got the screws into the wall, occasionally leaning forward to hand him whatever he needed. Once he was done getting the wall ready, you watched as he hoisted the painting up in order to hang it up evenly.

“Does that look good?” He called with a glance over his shoulder, prompting you to step back and see if it sat leveled over the wall.

“Move it over a bit to the left,” you called, seeing as he followed your suggestion. “That’s good.”

He hopped off the short step ladder, joining your side to check how the painting looked on the wall. “It looks really good up there.”

You simply nodded, admiring the way it already made the space warmer. It was large, covering a good chunk of the otherwise bland space.

“What gave you the idea?”

Falling to the side to rest your hip against the counter, Harry followed your motions as if you were tethered together and he couldn’t stand being too far away.

“It’s kind of a full circle – no?” You hummed, resting a hand over the counter that he quickly picked up in his, mindlessly playing with your hand as you spoke. “I mean the first time you came in, you asked me how to get your art up there. And now…”

Trailing off, the thought finishing itself as you had gotten one of his paintings on the walls indefinitely.

He was quiet for a moment, a moment long enough that it had you glancing over at him. He had his eyes trained to the side of your face, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“What?” You mumbled with a little laugh, when he didn’t say anything.

He shook his head, eyes flicking between yours and the newly hung painting. “Nothing, it’s just, I – I adore you, you know that?”

You sighed blissfully, a smile playing on your mouth. “Hm.”

“Hm?” He repeated back to you with a laugh, turning around you so that he could face you. His hips bumping with yours, he made it impossible for you to avoid his stare. “What do you mean by ‘hm’?”

He was invading your every sense, a welcomed invasion to you. Dipping his head down to skim his nose over your jaw, letting your hands fall to their place over his shoulders.

“How do you feel?” He breathed against your skin, lips nudging over you. Your hand pressed over his chest, pushing him back the slightest bit so that you could see him.

You played with the hem around the neckline of his shirt, looking into his heavy gaze. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He blinked slowly, forehead resting against yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed happily, palms sliding over his shirt covered chest. “I don’t want… any more miscommunication, you know? I wanted to know, just how things are with us…?”

A smile teased his lips. “Are you asking me if we’re together?”

“Well…,” you hesitated, before straightening out your spine. “I am.”

“Do you want to be together?”

“You’re really good at turning questions back on me, you know that?”

He laughed, forehead moving from yours as he brought hand to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You do it more than I do, know that?”

He followed his words with a nudge of your nose with his mouth, quick lick over the skin.

“Stop that,” you mumbled, turning your head away from him but not having much room to do so as he kept a grasp around your jaw.

“Stop what?” He brushed over your cheek, teasing you with light kisses over your face.

“Just,” you dug your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, nudging him against you as he pulled his face away from yours for a brief moment. “Kiss me.”

His lips curved upwards once more, eyelids fluttering as he leant back in. “Whatever you say.”

Slipping your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your smiling mouths met. He easily held you against him, free hand wrapping around your back. Lips easily parted as soft kisses were shared. Breaking apart for a brief second as he nudged your upper lip with his before firmly capturing your mouth.

Nails tapping along his jawline, pulling him as close as possible as your mouth followed the path of your fingers. Tips of his hair tickling your nose, your teeth grazed his earlobe before whispering. “I’m yours.”

A shaky breath was heard from his still parted mouth, moving his head back so that he could meet your eyes. “Everything –” he said “– the world is yours, know that? Including me.”

He didn’t waste another second, mouth trapping yours once again after your shared confessions. He pushed himself oh so close, drawing out a quiet whine from your throat as his lips grew greedy.

Peppering kisses to the corner of your mouth, teeth grazing over your chin before making a line of wet kisses over your jaw. A Kate Bush song played on the speakers, you didn’t have the capacity to remember it at the moment.

Eyes briefly parting open, remembering where you were. “You know everyone outside can see us, right?”

He paused at your words, glancing up at the slightly fogged windows that covered the front of the café. The sky hard turned a dark shade of blue, bright lights coming from inside of the café meaning anyone walking by outside could see you. “Not too worried about them.”

You shook with a quiet laugh, a brief shove to his chest as he kept you hugged to his body. “Plus the counter hides our bottom half anyway so –”

“Harry,” you laughed louder now, shaking your head. “My boss could check her security cameras at any moment.”

“Fine, fine” he stuck his bottom lip out.

Your fingertips traced mindless trails over his neck, pressing a lasting kiss over his mouth to keep him quiet.

Harry fell from your front, keeping an arm around your back with his side still pressed close to yours. “Looks good up there,” he hummed lightly, nodding his head towards the painting.

“You painted it.” You followed his eyeline, glancing up at the large canvas.

“But you inspired it – really mean it you know.”

“Mean what?”

“The world is yours.”

Your head fell against his shoulder, taking a moment to rest together as both of you faced the painting. Arms crossing as you held each other close, the warm light of the café flowing through the windows and to the street outside.

The two of you nearly mirrored the painting that hung proudly, soft touches of affection that could only be seen from outside if someone was really paying attention. If one were to be walking past on the street, they would see nothing but a warm reflection of growing love. And just as the title of the painting: you could stay there for hours. And you did.

la fin. (for now).

thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed my little story, it really means the world to me💞  come by and chat if you’d like, and until next time !

[rainbowrider1290]

Self Love Retrospective

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2021. Tag as many creators as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagged by @kae-karo thank you dear!

Oooh my favourite works of 2021. Let's take a walk! In no particular order:

1. One of my first pencil drawings of Xiao back when I didn't colour anything:

I was trying to get my friend to save for the jade spear instead of rolling for albedo on his re-run. It took me all day.

2. Atsushi in demonic armour as my vERY first coloured piece!

This one just makes me really happy since I think it's one of the first ones I drew out of my own idea.

3. One for my Venezuelan crowd:

Shit's been going down in Venezuela for years and I wanted to reassure all y'all "en el exterior" are never alone or losing your roots.

4. Sucrose in a suit! Suitcrose!

This is the piece that taught me fabric folds and a smirk.

5. Flower-Crowned LWJ from FairyGardenCorgis' fic "Orchid Teeth"

This flower crown was so fun to draw and for a long time just looking at it made me smile.

And an honourable mention because I really really like this one: A fusion of Xiao and his mask and its redraw ten months later:

Before:

After:

And I am tagging @reki-of-the-valley (or your main, whichever you prefer, my friend, phenomenal writer, and budding artist ;)), @kaykay-13 (fabulous writing got me to draw my first entirely freehanded no-reference drawings!), @nomeimporta32 (my dearest my inspiration), @fairygardencorgis (incredible writer, fabulous person), @joshua-beeking (bc his art is incredible and I just want ppl to see it), @chaoslynx (gorgeous writing and really really nice) and @nimdamy (wonderful writer and awesome to work with)

And of course anyone else who sees this!

[zkfanworkweek]

ZFAW Content Creator Interviews: OwedBetter

Hey everyone! We hope you’re all excited for ZFAW, and to honor (ha!) ZFAW’s commitment to supporting and celebrating fan content creators in the Zutara fandom, we’re going to be rolling out a series of interviews with well-known and widely-beloved content creators over the next few weeks. We’ve got artists and fanfiction authors, some names you recognize as well as a few phenomenal up-and-coming talents, and we can’t wait for you to meet them all!

I’m super excited about this one! For the sixth (incredibly delayed, I’M SORRY) interview in the cycle, we have Jo, aka @owedbetter. Best known for the absolutely iconic Zutara fanfiction “I’m Still Here,” Jo’s works can be found at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312357/chapters/27990618

Tell us about how you came to ship Zutara. What does this ship mean to you?

To use one of my favourite lines from Jane Austen, "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." I started watching Avatar: The Last Airbender when I was just a tiny little baby child at 10 turning 11 years old. I do know for a fact, however, that Zutara had simply always been it for me from the very beginning. I believe it was during "The Storm" that I just knew that there was more to Zuko than what was at surface level. As a brown girl trying to make her way into positions of leadership as a child, Katara's strength, rage, and bravery paved the way for me to survive in the way I have. As a survivor of child abuse myself, Zuko remaining kind and gentle and good was of paramount importance. Together, they were the joining of two souls that met in conflict and chaos but through merit, equal standing, and forgiveness, they were exactly what each other needed. They are not opposites nor two halves of a whole; they are the sky and between them is only the world. Everyone has the need to feel truly seen and understood as they are by another, and Zuko and Katara do exactly that. Other stories come and go, but they're the story I come back to and will continue to call home every single time. I will never tire of them.

2. What inspires you to create Zutara fanworks?

 I've been a professional writer for the last ten years. It's my job to imagine and create stories. I also love consuming stories through every medium possible. The well never dries when you keep it full to the brim. When you do the work I do and you consume as many stories as I do and you've lived a long enough life and paid attention to the life around you as I have trained to do, to be inspired is second nature. For Zutara, however, these are voices that have lived in my brain for fifteen years. When I get an idea for a story, literally any story, it's like my subconscious is naturally attuned to their dynamic that every prompt I come up with is automatically a Zutara prompt. Such is the way. If I ever publish a novel and/or lead my own show/movie, you can bet that it's probably Zutara if you squint.

3. Be selfish - if you could request one fanwork based on your own art/fanfic, what would it be? What would you absolutely love to see someone create? 

To this day, "i'm still here" is probably the single greatest thing I've ever done in my whole stupid life. It would be the greatest honour to see my work interpreted visually. Genuinely, I'd love to see certain scenes as comic panels or something. Katara's realisation at the beach over who she is and she thinks about Yue, her mother, and her grandmother. Zuko and Katara's mutual understanding. The scene that started it all: baby Zuko taking care of baby Azula at the beach. Katara and Iroh talking in Chapter 7. Toph meeting fear for the first time. The entire ending of Chapter 6. As of writing this, I haven't updated the sequel yet but I would love to see visual interpretations of incoming Original Characters because they've been fun to create. I don't even know. If anyone wants to draw something from "i'm still here", I would like to see it. Please let me see it. I will cry. But also, I would like to see visual interpretation of Zutara in my modern quarantine pandemic AU because I would like to see long haired 28 year old Zuko wearing autumn-wear in a public park filled with flowers with 26 year old Katara basically wearing anything I wear because I am projecting in that story for a reason. 

4. Any words for people who are new to the fandom and/or nervous about sharing their work for the first time?Buddy, we're all just a bunch of nerds who are creating things for our enjoyment and the enjoyment of likeminded individuals. Do things for you and because they bring you joy, first and foremost. Everything else can be ignored if you want to ignore it. You're doing great. 

5. What is your favorite Zutara-related thing you’ve made and why is it special to you?

 Again, "i'm still here" is literally the greatest thing I've ever done in my life. Something I get commended for a fair amount with ISH is how I handled Zuko being a child abuse survivor, and his conflicting emotions with his violent abusers because he's still a child who wants his family to love him. That comes from an extremely personal place for me and it means the world to know that other survivors out there resonated so well with it. Also, Masterchef Zuko with that chicken adobo meant me getting a LOT of people saying they tried out the recipe themselves and I can feel my grandmother radiate with pride over knowing I'm so great a cook that I can convince people to want my dish just by writing about it. I'm so proud of everything I did with ISH. I worked really hard on it and I'm so happy to know it means a lot to other people too. 

6. What’s an idea for a fanwork that you have but haven’t gotten around to making?

I have this one modern AU involving dogs that I've put on the backburner since 2017. One day... one day!!! I'm a bit of a workaholic, though, so most of the things I want to do, I just do 'em. 

7. Are you participating in ZFAW? If so, want to give us a hint as to your plans? 👀

I am! I have a draft ready based on one of Hayley Foster's animatics and I'm very excited. Tumblr user hayleynfoster, I owe you my entire life. 

[aurora-daily]

Q&A: AURORA

Interview by Caitlin Moss for Lockmag (September 21st, 2020).

Congratulations on your recent release ‘The Secret Garden’! I know that you wrote the song after reading The Secret Garden for the first time, what was it about the book that compelled you to write it?

I just loved that they really focused on the healing power of nature as a theme, and how important it is to not lock yourself inside your house if you’re feeling upset or afraid of the world, you know? I‘m a big believer in nature’s healing properties, so I wanted to write a song to honour my own imaginary garden which I imagine is my healing place, my sanctum.

It’s just such a beautiful and sad story, as most good stories often are, and the sadness of it just makes the story even more powerful.

Do you find writing or collaborating for film or TV is different to writing for your own album/single release?

Whenever I get asked by someone else to make something to compliment their piece of art, like in a movie, I take it very seriously. I get really like ‘i will not disappoint you, i promise on my family that i will do you and your movie justice!’ I just go in really intensely, like ‘i will fight for you, i will die for you!’

So with every movie soundtrack I’ve contributed to, I never think about anything else other than that movie. It’s just way more scary when you have to do something to please someone else. i’m mostly my own boss but now i have to do something for someone else and it’s very exhilarating

You’ve spoken quite a bit about perfectionism in your music, how did you manage to tackle that once the music you were creating became something other than just ‘yours’? For example, there are now fans who have a connection to your art. Is it something that you just learn to disconnect from once you’re in the song writing zone?

I find it quite easy to disconnect! I always take with me everything good my life has brought me until now when I eventually go into the studio. It’s like my little safe place, you know? And I’m very happy that I can do that. Of course we all do feel a bit of pressure.. Before I became an artist, when I just wrote in my room, so I can definitely feel there is more pressure, which is very sad, but maybe it’s also necessary, because now there is more of a time deadline for me. Being a perfectionist, I could write on a song forever. So I think I do need deadlines sometimes.

You hear all the time about how bad the music industry is, and of course you hear stories like that about every profession. But I’ve been so lucky to have really really good people around me. I picked well! It helps a lot to have people around that make you feel safe and that trust in your music. Cause it’s not just about money or fame, it’s about making something incredible and beautiful. And I’ll never let go of that, it’s the most important thing to me and my team.

Have you ever written another song inspired by a book?

I actually thought about this a few days ago! Because I mostly write about our world and real things that are happening, but I make them into something magical, or something sad, or something happy… I’m very inspired by the world around me, more than anything else. Especially now, with fame, I’m meeting more and more people. So I get to meet the people I’m writing for and about which is very cool.

When I’m writing music I do think quite visually. I often imagine a movie scene in my head, but it’s usually the kind of scene that I’d like for the music video, so it doesn’t exist yet.

But yes, I was thinking that I should be inspired by movies and books more because now, with the Secret Garden project, I realised how magical it can be to make a piece of art inspired by someone else’s piece of art! It’s such a beautiful circle of magical creative things.

I know that recently you’ve been inspired to write music by events such as the recent BLM protests, the ongoing climate emergency, and the current political climate. How do you approach writing music about this? I know you’ve said in the past that sometimes you hide meanings in your song lyrics but would you prefer to be more direct about these kinds of topics?

I go back and forth between the two. I like to play around with the ways I attack my stories. It’s all about what I want people to feel, because I know that life can be very hard, so I want my audience to be able to escape into my music. I want them to feel like they’re getting a hug.

It’s all about what I feel people would need from the music more than the music itself. For my whole career, I’ve always been trying to write the kind of music I feel like people need, and that will make them feel good.

So when I wrote quite politically on my last album, I felt like I needed to go quite harsh. And lyrically it’s quite easy to know what I’m talking about. But of course I want to leave some room for interpretation!

That’s the most fun thing about writing lyrics, you can do whatever you want! So yes, I definitely go between giving people an escape and giving people a weapon to attack whatever they are unhappy with.

How did you find lockdown, from a creative standpoint? Did you find yourself wanting to write more for people going through this new shared experience?

This is quite interesting because when I’m writing music for a new album I know that the music I’m creating will most probably be released in a year, because my music often travels so slowly from my heart out into the world. So I do often think about what the world will need in one year’s time! I kind of have to think ahead, and it is quite easy to tell, if you watch the world, what the reaction to the current situation is going to be in a year or so.

In every album I also like to have a theme, because that’s the most fun way to make an album, to really make it an intricate living thing where everything is connected.

The theme of my new album is inspired by something I think we all need right now, and will need in a year, and in the future that I think we have ahead of us.

It’s been very fun to write because this lockdown has really opened my eyes to what people need individually. But also it opens your eyes to what we really don’t need, all of the things that don’t make any sense, and all the battles we haven’t even fought yet that we’re going to fight in the future! When the world feels as quiet as it has in lockdown, it helps us to reconnect to what is really important, politically and emotionally.

All of this has definitely had an influence on the writing of my next album, but it’s a very complicated and big album to try and describe!

And what else have you been doing to keep busy during lockdown?

The world is teaching us all the time to dislike ourselves, so I know that many people have been struggling being alone with their thoughts and themselves for long periods of time. But I am very lucky because I know that I like myself, I really enjoy spending time alone.

I have a very creative head, which does make it hard to be social sometimes, I much prefer to be in my house, doing anything that you can think of that’s creative. I’ve been painting, drawing, writing music, making clothes, and drying flowers which I’m actually doing right now!

But I do really need someone to drag me out sometimes, because when you spend time with yourself in your own little world every day it can feel as though life is much shorter. It all ends up forming into one blob of a day, and you might not realise that a few days have gone by. So I’m very grateful for the hobbies that have been getting me out of the house! It’s really easy for me to get too comfortable in my home.

What was it like to work with the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra?

I loved having the chance to make something so large with a group of people. I think there were 50 people in total, and it’s just so incredible because every single sound you can hear is made by those people playing together. It’s magical.

I appreciate them so much, and I appreciate each instrument so much. There’s something about a cello that just cuts through you in a different way than a voice can, it can make you cry without you even knowing why.

I really adored the experience, and I want to do things like that as much as possible because to me it really does define the beauty of music.

As a fellow book lover, I’m always looking to add new titles to my list, do you have any book recommendations for our readers?

Well, I would recommend any book by Brandon Sanderson to anyone out there who loves complex, emotional fantasy stories. The Mistborn and Warbreaker series are really good.

I’ve been trying to read more books by female authors recently, so I’d recommend Uprooted by Naomi Novik, The Power by Naomi Alderman, the Study series by Maria V. Snyder has an excellent female main character and I loved reading about her journey through life.

My final recommendation is The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. I thought the first 100 pages were really boring, but you have to stick with it! Once I got past those first 100 pages it turned into the most entertaining book I’ve ever read, and it’s such a good story.

I could definitely recommend more if I was looking at my bookshelves, but you should definitely start with those books first.

Your new track ‘Exist For Love’ is a step in a new musical direction for you. As someone who has said in the past that you’re not one for writing love songs, what was it like to explore a new side of yourself musically and lyrically? And can we expect more to come on your next album?

Love is a big part of the song’s meaning, but it’s much more complex than just a love song. Musically too it’s quite different from what I’ve done before, because that’s the most fun thing to do as an artist! I love trying new things.

‘Exist For Love’ is definitely a taste of what the next album will be like. It’s going to be a different album and I’m having a lot of fun with it at the moment.

How do you approach taking a new album into the studio? Do you pitch a fully realised vision to your team?

It’s very hard to work with me, I think, because I can be very stubborn and with every album I always have a clear idea that I sit down and pitch to my team. I like to create a visual map of the story I had in my head when writing the songs. I like to keep the name of the album a secret until it’s done though, I’m very secretive about that…

I don’t bring people on to help make an album unless I know that they understand where I’m coming from. And once I’ve established that understanding, then we can go forward and work together and be inspired by each other.

I’m very excited to start recording this album, we’ll be making a beautiful album child in a little castle somewhere here in Norway. I think it’s very important for me to be somewhere atmospheric, like a castle. You can definitely hear it in the music. We’re renting it out for a few weeks and it’s going to be really magical!

It’s just going to be me and Magnus, my drummer, we’ve made most albums just the two of us. I’ll have all the music written beforehand, and then we’ll record and produce it all.

Do you like to be very hands-on with the production side of your music too?

Definitely, I get very sad seeing so many girls and women in the music industry either not getting any credit for production, or just being ignored or afraid to speak up during that process.

It’s such a male dominated space, which I get very angry about because on my albums I don’t get any credit for the production work I do. I think Bjork spoke about the same issues with her music too. It’s such a long and difficult battle that we have to fight!

I absolutely love producing, it’s so much fun. To me the recording and producing process is like creating a little album child, and then going out to buy beautiful clothes to dress up your child in these lovely things! I have such a specific vision for every part of my songs in my mind, so I couldn’t imagine not being involved in the production.

I would recommend that everyone gives it a go, it’s so easy to learn, and you can find tutorials online for any software you can get your hands on.

You’re so right! I know from experience with my first few songs, I didn’t feel anywhere near confident enough to have my voice heard in the production process!

I think that is my biggest piece of advice for any new musician, just start to learn how to produce yourself so that you can hold your own in the studio. You’ll feel so much more confident! It’s so important to be strict with your opinions, especially because you’re putting so much time into the writing and recording of these songs.

I also love learning new things from my drummer, who has been a producer for a long time now. There’s no shame in taking advantage of how good the people around you have become technically, but you just have to make sure they listen to you too. No matter how good they are.

Okay, one final question before we go…what are you looking forward to in the future right now?

Number one is this next album. It’s going to be so different and so new, and it’s very exciting to play around with new things.

Number two is, I’m excited to keep on fighting for the people, you know? I can’t wait to continue spreading love and support for equality, women’s rights, the black lives matter movement, the environment and for the animals. It’s the most fun thing. Life seems so long when you’re a part of fighting in such huge, ongoing battles like those, and I can’t wait to start seeing real change. I really do think it’s coming because you can see it in the people. We are so ready for the era of love.

It’s also going to be very exciting to see if we’ll ever be the same after this virus. I don’t think we will, but I think that’s going to be a good thing.

[bbbrianjones]

tagged by @david-watts to do this tag where i answer a few questions! thank you, always fun to do these.

NAME: my full name [obviously minus the last name] is emmanuelle liliane sibylle. emmanuelle after an actress and liliane sibylle after a family member who my mama was close to!

NICKNAME(S): emmi is the most common one, sometimes get called em. family nickname i got was ‘lutin’ which means leprechaun due to my height >:^(

GENDER: female i guess

STAR SIGN: cancer sun. sagittarius moon. aquarius rising. don’t know what any of it means so help :))

HEIGHT: 164 cm which is roughly 5′4. 

TIME: it’s like. two am. send help

FAVOURITE BANDS: the rolling stones, the stone roses, pulp, depeche mode, pet shop boys, britpop bands, especially blur and oasis, the stranglers, the cure ++ many more !!

FAVOURITE SOLO ARTIST: don’t listen to many but kate bush, nick drake, lana del rey, marina, vashti bunyan, julian cope ++ many more. why cant i think of more.

SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD: it’s underwear by pulp. rather than it being lyrics, it’s the music, especially the solo in the middle. i think it’s insane!!

LAST MOVIE: the umbrellas of cherbourg. i will never get over geneviève and guy!! it’s so unfair!!

LAST TELEVISION SHOW: midsomer murders baby!!! gavin troy is the only tory i can deal with in any universe!! it’s like a fever dream every time he opens his mouth.

WHEN DID I CREATE THIS BLOG: i created this blog in nov. 2017 but didn’t put my first post up until jan. 2018.

WHAT DID I LAST GOOGLE: liam gallagher’s twitter because my mama messaged me saying that he “ended” the feud with noel and i needed to make sure it wasn’t a joke. needless to say it’s the best thing i ever read.

OTHER BLOGS: an old blog about the kinks that will never be revealed! 

DO I GET ASKS: i do and i love all of them so much!!

WHY I CHOOSE MY URL: he has been the love of my life since i was eleven years old

AVERAGE HOUR OF SLEEP: i don’t keep count but this week hasn’t been the best

LUCKY NUMBERS: eight or nine. used to draw these numbers on frosted windows when i was a child. even better when it’s eighty-nine. 

INSTRUMENTS: i did piano for about eleven years 

WHAT AM I WEARING: my blue jacket, black flared pants, my blur sneakers which i customised myself, and my silicon teens shirt because i need to honour god (or andy fletcher as he’s more commonly known)

DREAM JOB: i want to be an optometrist because i used to adore going to see the optometrist as a child and when i was at school, it seemed like i destined to do that. however that is an incredible difficult course to get into, which is understandable so i’d love to be a secretary at a legal firm. it would be such a disappointment for my parents but i love doing paperwork and filling out appointments!!

DREAM TRIP: literally anywhere other than where i am at the moment. i usually go to london each year to get my yearly dose of food poisoning but this year i wasn’t able to go so whenever i can go, i’d drop everything.

FAVOURITE FOOD: i do love fruit!! there’s so many fruit that i just adore but my favourite would probably be peaches 

FAVOURITE SONG: any song from the different class by pulp, any song released by the stone roses, special mention goes to she bangs the drums or made of stone, any song depeche mode released between 1981-1989. favourite song at the moment is sorted out for e’s and wizz by pulp or underwear by pulp.

LAST BOOK I READ: the one i remember was la dame aux camélias by alexandre dumas fils. i have read it before many times and it’s a bit of a gulity pleasure book because it’s filled with cheesy romance but it makes my heart swell with how beautiful it’s written.

TOP THREE UNIVERSES I WANT TO LIVE IN: wherever the umbrellas of cherbourg is set because all the colours are so beautiful and i get to wear so much pink!! i could be so happy!! the mighty boosh world would be so cool to live in as well, at least then i’d get to shop wherever vince gets his clothes!! and i guess tintin would be fun, despite every time you go outside, you suddenly get twenty assassination attempts for ears-dropping. 

[hatari-translations]

Iceland Music News commentary on Neyslutrans - translation

In February 2020, Neyslutrans was featured as Rás 2's Album of the Week on the radio. The format of the show would usually involve playing through the album, with the artists commenting on each song before it starts; however, in true Hatari style, instead of commenting on their own work, Hatari instead sent Iceland Music News to do the commentary. The result is pretty hilarious, in the usual dry, sardonic style of anything associated with Hatari. Full translation (of their bits) below.

Introduction

DÍSA: We are media outlet Iceland Music News, the country's most honest media outlet.

GUÐMUNDUR: Yes. And possibly the entire world's.

HÁKON: And thus probably the most honest media outlet that's stepped into the RÚV studio.

GUÐMUNDUR: It's a sweet duty for us to present Rás 2's Album of the Week, which is Neyslutrans, by award-winning band Hatari.

HÁKON: To wit, my name is Hákon and I'm the editor for Iceland Music News; Vigdís is the assistant program director and thought the album was called Neysludans [Consumption Dance] but I corrected her just earlier, it's actually called Neyslutrans.

GUÐMUNDUR: And I'm Guðmundur Einar and I'm the CEO of Iceland Music News.

DÍSA: It should be mentioned that I'm usually called Dísa and I'm the program director and handle all published material. Well, the members of Hatari declined to present this album, and thus we were recruited for the job.

HÁKON: Right. As we understand it, they weren't offered enough money to introduce the Album of the Week, and therefore we were asked to come, and of course we jumped at the opportunity as soon as we had the chance.

DÍSA: Yes.

GUÐMUNDUR: Yes. It's of course amazing to get to introduce a masterpiece of this kind. The foreign media are tripping over themselves to declare this album the best album of all time.

DÍSA: Yes, exactly. It's a great honour for us as a nation that the songs will be performed at Hatari's release concert in Austurbær on February 22nd-23rd, and to perform such a masterwork live, as you say, is just... there are no words.

HÁKON: None. And we furthermore want to underline the great honour that it is to present this album. It's a masterpiece, and honestly I think masterpiece isn't a strong enough word to fully encompass the quality of it. But without further ado, here is the album of the week.

DÍSA: Neyslutrans.

HÁKON: Enjoy.

DÍSA: The band known as Hatari is composed of Einar Hrafn Stefánsson, Klemens Nikulásson Hannigan and Matthías Tryggvi Haraldsson, who composed and arranged the songs and lyrics on the album.

GUÐMUNDUR: But of course, in creating a piece like this, a multitude of other artists come into it as well. And what a list of magnificent artists. It will become clear when we play the songs. We should add that the album was recorded by publisher Svikamylla ehf.

HÁKON: In Panama.

GUÐMUNDUR: In Panama.

Engin miskunn

HÁKON: The first song on the album is called "Engin miskunn" [No Mercy], and the title really says everything that needs to be said. There is no mercy from the greatness of this song. The quality exceeds all measurements, and the listener is shown no mercy as it is played.

DÍSA: No.

GUÐMUNDUR: As the lyrics say, "Glory will descend upon the earth / All the Earth's children's doomsday drawing near". That's the feeling I felt when I heard this song.

DÍSA: Absolutely. I completely agree. You could just feel the glory taking over your...

GUÐMUNDUR: Body.

DÍSA: Body. It's worth noting that it was Magnús Leifsson who directed a music video for this song, one of the most respected directors in Iceland.

HÁKON: "Most respected" doesn't even cover how revered he is within the industry.

GUÐMUNDUR: Yeah. And this song is what's called the 'single' of the album, and is, so to speak, the outward face of the album.

HÁKON: Yes, exactly. And the glue that holds the album together.

DÍSA: Yes. We said the listener is shown no mercy in listening to this song, but of course that applies to the entire album, even though it's unusual for an album to begin with such a... really the best song.

GUÐMUNDUR: Yeah, this is the best song.

HÁKON: Yeah. We could say it applies to the entire album but perhaps especially this one, "Engin miskunn". There's no mercy in this, and this is really the song on the album.

Spillingardans

HÁKON: The next song on the album is called "Spillingardans". This is a magnificent song, and it's of course a special honour for Iceland Music News to have been the media organization present interviewing Hatari when the first clips from the music video for the song had yet to be released - so Iceland Music News was the first media outlet in Iceland to publish a clip from the video for "Spillingardans", and it's a really special honour because this song is, in most people's opinion, by far the best song on the album. If you were to apply some kind of adjective to it, there would be a lot of them, but this song is very barbed. Yet at the same time, the end of the barb is soft. The song says, "The watchful hand of the oppressor", and the oppressor in this case is the dishonest media, for instance, and, um, a lot of other things. But the song is called "Spillingardans", and I ask you to listen well, because this is the best song on the album. It could be mentioned that "Spillingardans" was originally released as a single, as one individual thing published by itself, in 2018, and the song is based on a song of the same name by the duo Plató.

Klámstrákur

DÍSA: It's a great honour for us at Iceland Music News to present the album Neyslutrans by Hatari, and especially for me to present the song "Klámstrákur", because if you listen to this song, I think most people can hear the lyrics and think, "Yes. Yes, I am a filthy boy." And it's especially an honour because this is, without a doubt, the best song on the album. It was released as a single last year and it only gets better with each listen. Klemens gets to come out and play in this song, where he kind of raps in parts, and I can only speak for myself, but my image of Klemens changed greatly. You could say something deepened there. This is the song "Klámstrákur" by Hatari.

Klefi/Samed

GUÐMUNDUR: The next song is the song "Klefi" or "Samed", by Hatari and Palestinian musician Bashar Murad. We at Iceland Music News have been lucky enough to meet Bashar a few times and interview him, and I can state for the record that he is one of the most magnificent artists to ever set foot in Iceland.

DÍSA: Can I add that he is also very polite?

GUÐMUNDUR: Very polite.

HÁKON: Unique.

GUÐMUNDUR: And a good boy. Samed means to be steadfast, and is widely used in the struggle for Palestinian rights. It's a special honour for me to introduce the song "Klefi/Samed" because this is in many people's opinions perhaps the very best song on this album, and thus in the history of Icelandic music. "I walk barefoot in the clouds," sings Bashar, "worthy," but when I listen to this song, I wonder if I am worthy. Either way it's a great blessing to be able to enjoy music of this caliber. "I am whole, and I am warm," and that's how you feel when you listen to this song.

Þræll

DÍSA: The song "Þræll" by Hatari is a new song on the album Neyslutrans by Hatari. In this song, Klemens presents a lovely contemplation on submissiveness, which I think will touch most people. This is without a doubt the best song on the album. It has been very well received, both in Italy and Poland and other places, and when I say well received I mean a lot of people sing along, and of course it has been widely praised. There is a piece of the lyrics that speaks to me; it's "You yank me, throw me around; you slap me on the cheek." I think this song does that to me. It yanks me, throws me around, slaps me on the cheek, and after listening, I come out of it a slightly better person. This is the song "Þræll" by Hatari from the album Neyslutrans.

Hlauptu

HÁKON: The next song is called "Hlauptu" by Hatari. I feel a little bad to be presenting this song, because to present a song like this in a time like this is really more than I am capable of. This song is, by every measure, by far the best song on the album, and there's just no way around that. The song "Hlauptu" is an incredible work of lyricism, an incredible song in every way, incredible artists working on it along with Hatari, it's Cyber that wrote it with Hatari. Cyber and Hatari traveled around Europe on the "Europe Will Crumble" tour where they conquered not only Europe but the entire world with this song, and if I just Google "Cyber" [typing noises] and press Enter, I get a lot of varied information about this song, which, uh, shows how big this song is. "Hlauptu" by Hatari!

Hatrið mun sigra

GUÐMUNDUR: So, the next song on the album is a decent song.

HÁKON: Yeah, it's a decent song. It's... you can debate its merits, as people have. But a decent song, sure, we of course are a media organization and must be fair and honest in our reporting, so, decent, I don't know.

GUÐMUNDUR: Fine. It's fine.

DÍSA: I'm - if we're going to have honesty as our guide I just have to permit myself to say that the lyrics of this song... I just don't know. I think it's too dark.

HÁKON: I kind of have to agree with that. See, I'm just going to read a bit...

DÍSA: I just had to say it.

GUÐMUNDUR: Perhaps it should be mentioned that the next song is "Hatrið mun sigra".

HÁKON: By Hatari.

DÍSA: Yeah - I can't even say that title.

HÁKON: And, and... let's see this, "Hate will prevail, Europe will crumble."

DÍSA: No.

HÁKON: I think it's distasteful. This is not in any way appropriate for our children to hear.

GUÐMUNDUR: No, that's the question.

HÁKON: Because you can say whatever you like about Eurovision, and reversing it, and that really they mean there should be peace and so on.

DÍSA: Yeah, blah blah blah.

HÁKON: But they're saying that hate will prevail and Europe will crumble. Under no circumstances is it healthy for children to hear that.

DÍSA: No.

HÁKON: And now the coronavirus is coming, and this is not a joke!

DÍSA: Hákon, I - sure, we are here to present the album of the week on behalf of Hatari, and I think we've entered a gray area, but we as the media outlet Iceland Music News, we just have to tell it like it is. We speak when others are silent. And I'm glad this has been said.

HÁKON: Nonetheless...

GUÐMUNDUR: Nonetheless, this song is... fine. And it will be performed, along with every other song on the album, at Hatari's release concert in Austurbær.

HÁKON: Yes, February 22nd and 23rd, for those who are interested. This song will of course be performed there, and who knows, perhaps if the audience shouts "Again! Again!" loudly enough, they'll perform it for a second time. Who knows?

GUÐMUNDUR: It should be said that the version on the album is a bit longer than the one performed in the Eurovision Song Contest, and this improved it significantly.

DÍSA: Yeah, that's true.

HÁKON: Yeah, it did. One thing to say for this song, and the band Hatari, it got a lot better when it no longer had to obey the strict rules of Eurovision.

GUÐMUNDUR: We are Iceland Music News and the next song is the song "Hatrið mun sigra", by Hatari.

Spectavisti me mori/14 ár

GUÐMUNDUR: Next we're airing two songs in a row, first "Spectavisti me mori, Op. 8", which means "You watched me die", and is a reference to the song "X" by Hatari. Pétur Björnsson composed violin for this song. And directly following this incredible musical experience is the song "14 ár".

DÍSA: Yes. Which is also new on the album. There is a lot of desperation in that song; there is a kind of Stockholm syndrome in the lyrics, our coercive relationship with capitalism. There are many connections to be made, and, really just a classic Hatari hit in terms of structure and so on, which flows extremely well from Pétur's melody. He studied the violin in Leipzig.

HÁKON: We at Iceland Music News of course recommend that listeners listen to these two songs together in one stew, so to speak, so that the former song precedes the latter. By Hatari.

DÍSA: Yes. I think it's very original to have two songs go together like this, and I think it's the unanimous opinion of the editorial board that this is the best song on the album.

GUÐMUNDUR: Yes.

HÁKON: Yes. It's the best piece.

GUÐMUNDUR: Best piece.

DÍSA: Piece of music.

HÁKON: This part of this work of art is really what glues it all together, what gives it life as art that we can benefit from, not just us, the individuals of Iceland Music News, or us the individuals who work at Iceland Music News as news reporters working in a difficult environment, but also we who love Hatari.

GUÐMUNDUR: Yes.

DÍSA: Yes.

HÁKON: And have listened to Hatari. And we who love music, we can say that too. And that's why there's no way around why this piece is the core of the piece of art that is the album.

DÍSA: These are the songs "Spectavisti me mori" and "14 ár", by Hatari.

HÁKON: And we thank Hatari for this.

Ógleði

GUÐMUNDUR: We are Iceland Music News, and the next song is "Ógleði" [Nausea]. But nausea doesn't have to be a bad feeling.

DÍSA: No.

GUÐMUNDUR: Sometimes you experience nausea when emotions overwhelm you and the art overpowers the body.

DÍSA: Exactly. That said, it is right to present this song with a disclaimer, as if you have acid reflux, it has been known to cause the acidity or Ph value of the stomach, which should be around 3 - it has been known to raise it to around 3.333, which can cause a certain illness. It should be stated; we won't sugarcoat it.

HÁKON: Yes. We at Iceland Music News must state this. We're proud of it.

DÍSA: Yes. It's important information. But it's an amusing coincidence nonetheless that 3.333 is not unlike 3,333 ISK, which happens to be the ticket price for children under 18 for Hatari's release concert, which will take place on February 23rd.

HÁKON: In Austurbær. And Iceland Music News of course wants to use this opportunity to express our deepest gratitude to our sponsors. It's a variety of sponsors, such as... many, who have taken part in supporting us with various grants that we have accepted, and we are grateful to be able to accept such grants, to make it possible for us to sit here and talk about the song "Ógleði" by Hatari, which is indisputably the most important song on this album.

GUÐMUNDUR: As the lyrics to the song say, "Everything that trembled shattered like glass; what was inside me, it wasn't me." Dear listener, let the music shatter your soul like glass, so that a more perfect self may be rebuilt from the ruin.

Helvíti

HÁKON: We at Iceland Music News are very proud to present the next song, the song "Helvíti" [Hell] by Hatari, and this is, as the title suggests, a hellishly good song, if you'll indulge me. And of course, to say something is hellishly good really means it's so good you need to curse to emphasize it. I'd rather not curse, I did it just now for the sake of the example, but I won't do it again. We at Iceland Music News are thus saying that it simply cannot be emphasized enough how good this song is. The song is called "Helvíti". And the lyrics can be quoted - it should be noted that Svarti Laxness is part of this song, also known as Stinni Steins. The song says, "a constant hardon". This is something that's not good for anyone, to have a constant hardon. I've heard that four hours is a very long time, but constant is something I cannot even imagine, and that probably happens only in the purest of hells. And no one wants to be there.

DÍSA/GUÐMUNDUR: [suppressed chuckling]

HÁKON: These are very explicit descriptions of what happens in the hottest of hells, which makes it incredibly evocative, and it really touches people deeply, and perhaps even cuts them.

GUÐMUNDUR: That's right, Hákon. And we should mention that we are approaching the end of the album, the end of this great journey that the album has been. And at this point we've reached Hell. The destruction of capitalism has here reached its peak, and the album describes in great detail the environments and experiences of Hell.

Nunquam iterum/Niðurlút

DÍSA: We've come to the end of the album Neyslutrans by Hatari.

HÁKON: Iceland Music News, here with you.

DÍSA: Well, an end but also a new beginning, you could say. Or a kind of...

HÁKON: Lullaby?

DÍSA: Yes, it's a lullaby; we're being led into a new world. These are two songs strung together, which is extremely original. It's "Nunquam iterum, Op. 12" - Nunquam iterum means "Never again".

GUÐMUNDUR: Yes. And it's fun to note that the members of Hatari are great academics and speak fluent Latin, just like us at Iceland Music News.

HÁKON: Behind the masks, there are voracious readers and bookworms.

GUÐMUNDUR: And this is followed by the song "Niðurlút", which is the final song of the album. Both of these songs are written to the same lyrics.

DÍSA: Different artists worked on the songs; the former is a melody by Friðrik Margrétar who arranged it for the choir of the Iceland Academy of the Arts, and then it's GDRN, one of our foremost singers, who worked on the song "Niðurlút."

HÁKON: Both of these artists are of course great friends of Iceland Music News and have of course boosted our reputation.

GUÐMUNDUR: This song is no less than magnificent.

DÍSA: No. I'll permit myself to say this is the best song on the album. A subjective opinion, some would say, but I am basing this on my education and experience in the music business.

GUÐMUNDUR: Yes.

HÁKON: This song being the best song is just not up for debate.

GUÐMUNDUR: This is the end of this incredible journey.

[maraudererasmut]

love your work could you do some fic and or some artist recs?

Thank you very much! I really appreciate it! 

Of course I can give you some fic and artist recs! Keep in mind, this is not a comprehensive list. There are a ton of artists and authors that I love, and this is just a small sampling of those!

Artists:

@casualmaraudering is an amazing artist, and I am such a huge fan of her work! Her style is so soft and so warm and it just brings me so much joy, I can’t even!

@meekinthedraw has a style that is so uniquely his own, and I can’t even begin to describe how awesome it is. He draws amazing marauder content and I’m always so impressed with the content that he creates!

@amelie-dhel doesn’t make as much marauder stuff anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s not incredible! I love her work and her art style! She used bright, bold colours and strong lines to create such warm, enticing pieces! I am so in love with her work, I can’t even!

@breathing-and-stuff is also a fantastic artist! So many soft Wolfstar pieces that just bring me such joy! 

I’m going to post authors instead of individual fics, because limiting this to fics that I enjoy is just... a challenge!

@blitheringmcgonagall is incredible! Her writing is fantastic and I love everything that she produces! Plus, she’s such a sweet heart, she just makes me smile all the time!

@letsdothepanic is another wonderful author! I had the absolute pleasure of being paired with her for WSBB last year, and she wrote a fic based on my art, which was an absolute honour!

@jennandblitz has some amazing fics and I just can’t get enough of them! She just wrote the first chapter of a fic with @captofthesswolfstar that I have set aside for myself to read this weekend and I am so frikkin’ excited about it!

Anyway! I hope you liked this rec list, anon! If you want any more specific recs, hit me up! 

[amoveablejake]

Well, Here We Are

It is time for the obligatory year in review piece, I know, try and contain your excitement. 

Well, here we are. The end of another calendar year. 2020 is drawing to a close and so like many, if not all, journalistic outlets I too will be doing my year in review. Do I count as a journalistic outlet I hear you ask? Yes. I’ve decided that I do. This is my column and I’m going to to pretend that I am a columnist here. And I can’t hear your eye rolls because I’m busy hiding behind my clicking keyboard. 

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about how I wanted to structure my year in review, for instance did I want to go through each category in a classic way and also would I also only speak about things that came out this year. The answer to both, is a no. Instead I am going to present to you my alternative awards for the year. There will still be runners up but the categories may be a little bit all over the place so if you were planning on counting on  a sure thing award winner that might be out the window now. That being said, shall we dive into perhaps the most chaotic awards show you’re going to experience this year. 

The album that I listened to literally on repeat for a week whilst I was working and as result now know ridiculously well. Perhaps too well - Winner: Pink Floyd ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ 

Right. So. Back in April one rainy Monday afternoon I put on ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ to listen to it through in its entirety for the first time. I had heard songs from it before and I was familiar with Pink Floyd’s music before this but this was what sent me down a spiral of their discography, so much so that Spotify have dubbed them my artist of the year based on playtime. Whilst I would not consider them to be my artist of the year, I can’t deny how deep I’ve gone into their library and in particular ‘Dark Side of the Moon’. I quite literally had it playing on repeat for the entirety of that week and now, now I simply don’t know if I ever truly existed before that album. Am I the album? Is the album me? I’m in too deep. 

The best representation of Seattle in a post apocalyptic video game - Winner: ‘The Last of Us Part Two’

Honestly, I know that this category makes it pretty clear that Last of Us was always going to win but that is because if it wasn’t on this list somewhere I think it might have indeed been a federal crime. This year I played both editions of Joel and Ellie’s story pretty much back to back and boy oh boy was that quite the ride. Part Two is a gruesome, grueling, revenge fueled ride that in all honesty is some of the best storytelling I have ever experienced. In any medium. It’s narrative is phenomenal, its game design is unparalleled, the voice acting and soundtrack are both out of this world and the way it looks is breathtaking. It is a game that continuously left me speechless and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I put it down. The fact that Joel looks like my Dad did and wears the same clothes only partly adds to the emotions it makes me feel. Although I won’t pretend the bit where Joel is talking to Ellie didn’t hit me quite hard. But hey, thats the game’s point. Its a story designed to make you feel and oh boy does it achieve that. 

The football player who came out of nowhere to bring life back to my club - Winner: Bruno Fernandes 

It has been a lot ol’ time since I’ve seen a player that I instantly fell for. Bruno Fernandes arrived in Manchester with an already strong reputation but he has completely transformed a team and shows no sign of slowing down. His first twelve months have been unparalleled and the comparisons drawn with a certain other Portuguese player who was worn that red shirt are not only warranted but deserved. 

The band who I’ve been missing all my life: Winner - Niteflyte 

Quite frankly, this is a very hard award to give. There were quite a few front runners however, it has to be Niteflyte. I got introduced to Niteflyte via a podcast about the CIA’s involvement with the soundtrack of the Berlin wall coming down (’Wind Of Change’, listen to it now. Well after you’ve finished reading this piece that is). The podcast only played Niteflyte because one of the figures it was investigating used to manage the band. It was a thirty second sound bite if that and it stopped me in my tracks. I was walking in my old city at the time and I had to stop on the street and find the album the song was from and put it on straight away. I have previously written about Niteflyte and their self titled album on the blog so go back and read that for a more in depth look however, if you take one thing from this it might be that if I was going to give an artist of the year award, lets just say I think I know who it would go to. 

The best motion picture handling of a father that has passed away that I have seen. Ever - Winner: ‘Onward’ 

When I first heard what ‘Onward’ was about I was, hesitant. Any film where a parent particularly a father comes back to life always makes me filled with trepdiation and this was the case when I went to go and watch ‘Onward’ back in March (the last film I saw in the cinema before all of this). Instead, what I found was an incredibly moving and sensitive film about losing a parent that had at its end the best handling of a reunion between father and son that I have ever seen on the big screen. I have watched it a second time since and I still found it to be incredibly well done. ‘Onward’ might well be my film of the year because of it, I’m that impressed. It is also a great film in its own right but hey, I can’t deny why it sticks out in my head. 

The show that keeps on getting better and better: Winner - ‘The Mandalorian’ 

Sigh. Everytime I think that that ‘The Mandalorian’ couldn’t possibly get any better it goes and proves me wrong. This year started off with the finale of series one and it has ended with the conclusion of the second series. It is a masterpiece and for that I don’t want to ruin its ending here. Instead I will say that it does get better and better each week and for this life long die hard Star Wars fan, hell, it might be my favourite Star Wars property. And I know that won’t mean anything to you, but to me, that is saying something. 

Okay, so, I could keep going on and on with these awards however, its the festive period and I don’t want to keep you hanging around too much so instead I am going to include below some honourable mentions with a little sentence about each. 

‘Anxious People’ - If I was to give a book of the year award winner this would be it. In fact its one of my top ten books ever. Its perfection. Read it. Now. 

‘Animal Crossing: New Horizons’ - Released at the perfect time and all these months later it still captures my heart everytime I go on it. 

‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ soundtrack - Look. I don’t need to make my feelings about this album any clearer. We know I love it and I hope that you’ve listened to it by now and you do too. 

Diego Maradona - The greatest of all time. There’s nothing more to say. 

‘The Prestige’ - Oh boy. I had heard about this film a lot from the IGN UK podcast over the years and it did not disappoint at all. Especially who plays a certain Mr Tesla. That reveal blew me away. 

Joe Exotic - Watching ‘Tiger King’ really felt like event viewing and came along at the perfect time like Animal Crossing. Joe Exotic, I don’t know what to say but he has earned his place on this list thats for sure. 

‘I’ve Got My Second Wind’ - I heard this on one of the early days in January, maybe the second or third and I’ve been listening to it ever since. My song of the year. 

Philippe Auclair - Football journalist and singer. Auclair who features on the Guardian’s Football Weekly podcast regularly is an incredibly articulate speaker and is never afraid to hold the more questionable footballing authorities accountable. One of the writers and figures in football that I look up to the most. Oh and hes an excellent singer. What a man. 

Napoli FC - This was the year that I fell in love with Napoli. Theres no looking back now, I finally found my own team. 

‘Uncharted Four: A Thief’s End’ - The game that showed me, truly, how good games can be. I felt like it was a crime that this game is so perfect. It feels like the inside of my head and I never wanted it to end. 

My brother, James - Look. I know you’re reading this and you more than deserve your place on this list. I was going to give you a proper award but I couldn’t quite get the wording right. Anyway, the point is you’re on the list as you always will be. (And yes, you’re in the same section as Joe Exotic, quite the compliment I know) 

So there we have it. 2020. Hopefully the above gives you something to think about and some things to consume over this festive period before we go again for the new year. This won’t be the final piece for the year but all the same, I hope its a bright 2021 for you, see you in the future. 

- Jake, a man who is immediately re assessing the awards, 27/12/2020

[pikapeppa]

Happy New Year’s Eve 2019!

Dear friends and followers: HAPPY NEW YEAR’S EVE!!!

I wanted to write a thank-you post and name everyone who made an impact on me this year, but... gods, we would be here all night if I even tried, and I’m certain I would forget someone. So I’ll just throw down some feels and hope you all see yourselves somewhere in this post.

To my reader friends: 

Guys, I just... you’re everything. Your comments, likes, reblobs, the times you appeared in my inbox or on Discord quoting my shit and screaming at me, the emojis and the asks and all the fucking love? You bring me so much joy and it’s my honour to share my word vomit with you. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: your feedback and your love mean more than you will ever know. I have been inspired by you, written ships or ideas or fics I would never have thought of without you, been encouraged to keep going when I was going to give up, and changed my mind entirely about plot points because of you. If ever you think that your presence or commentary doesn’t matter, you are wrong. You matter, your feedback matters, and my life is incredibly enriched by the friends I’ve made through my writing. THANK YOU. 

To my writer friends: 

YOU GUYS ARE A FUCKING INSPIRATION. I do not read nearly as much as your works as I want to, and I hope to fix that in 2020, but every writing meme you tag me in makes me so excited to even get a glimpse of what you’re working on and the workings of your beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful minds. Writing can be fucking HARD sometimes, and sometimes it can be discouraging when our work doesn’t get the love we hoped, but we’re all in this together because we love it. Never forget what brought you into your story in the first place, and hold that close in your heart. Keep on keeping on, keep sharing your blurbs and tagging me because I LOVE SEEING THEM, and we will push forth into another new year of words words words!

To my artist friends: 

I AM IN AWE OF ALL OF YOU. HOLY FUCK. This has been a crazy year for me because I made a lot of artist friends who are incredibly talented, many of whom MADE FAN ART FOR ME JUST BECAUSE THEY FELT LIKE IT, AND I’M JUST HERE LIKE:

SERIOUSLY I AM JUST A KREACHER AND YOU MADE ME AN ART?? FUCK OFF I LOVE YOU. I literally fangirl over you guys. I’ve spent literal hours staring at your art, saving it to my phone, staring some more, pondering the wonder that is life that makes people have such talented and HARD-WORKING hands that let them create such beautiful work. Every WIP you post is a thrill. It’s a fascinating joy to watch you guys drawing in real-time and watching that creation actually happen before my humble eyes. There’s no greater honour than thinking that my work was inspiring enough for you to want to create something in response. I’ve watched so many artist friends growing and pushing forward with their art and trying new things and I'm just so fucking proud to know you guys and to see your progression. Here’s to another year of feasting my eyeballs on your amazing work - every single one of you. 

To the friends who make me fucking laugh:

Me, writing: sophisticated vocabulary and thought and emotional depth. Love and grey areas of morality and angst.  Me, not writing: DICK IN A BOX IS STILL FUNNY DON’T @ ME

To the friends who don’t fit into the categories above: you probably fall into this category, AND BE ASSURED THAT THIS IS A SPECIAL CATEGORY INDEED. YOU BETTER KNOW WHO YOU ARE. SERIOUSLY THOUGH I CAN BE A STUPIT IDIOT and there are a handful of you guys who have made me laugh so fucking hard on the reg and I fucking love it. It’s hard for me to feel comfortable talking to people, but finding people with the same sense of humour is the quickest way for me to go from feeling like an awkward potato to FEELING LIKE A STUPIT FUN POTATO WITH FRIENDS so this is a special shout-out to those of you who have made me fucking laugh this year. I LOVE YOU.

To the silent followers: 

I see you. I SEE YOU, I SWEAR I DO. It’s okay if you’re shy! It’s okay if you’re just here for the art reblobs! Thanks for hanging out and enjoying my content, and I hope you’ll continue to enjoy in the year to come! ❤️ 

To everyone:

May you reach your goals, whatever they might be. May you forgive yourself if you don’t quite achieve what you had set out to do. May you cherish the small joys in order to tolerate the bigger trials that life will inevitably bring your way. 

May you bare your blade and raise it high.

Benefaris to all!! 

- Love, from your friendly neighbourhood Pikapeppa xoxo

[matildainmotion]

Equality and Diversity: Mothering Difference, Making Art

I have been slow to talk or write about race and diversity because of feeling vastly ill-qualified to do so. I’ve felt I should shut up, listen and let people who do not identify as white, straight and able-bodied do the talking and the writing. But recently I have come to realise that branding myself as ill-qualified feeds into the idea that ‘white’ is all-pervasive, as if white is so much the norm that it isn’t even a race, so what would I know about it? As if I am not part of the problem. I have done enough listening now to understand that structural racism is, in large part, for white people to undo. Just as patriarchy is not only for women to solve, and if you are a wheelchair user then the issue is not your lack of able-bodied legs but the lack of lifts inside the building. As the co-leader, with Lizzy Humber, of a movement called Mothers Who Make, which claims to be for ‘every kind of mother and every kind of maker,’ I think it is probably time I asked whether this is true – are we doing it for everyone, or only a privileged few?

Immediately, it’s complicated. For a start motherhood is a colossal category, so catering for ‘every kind of mother’ is a fantastic and preposterously ambitious claim. We like to try and list them: biological, adoptive, surrogate, foster, expectant, grand, great grand, single, bereaved…..is just the start of the list. Part of the reason for the movement existing at all is that motherhood itself has an ambivalent status in relationship to privilege. ‘Pregnancy and Maternity’ are ‘protected characteristics’ according to the Equality and Human Rights commission but this only covers a mother until 26 weeks after the birth. The remaining 26 plus years of raising the child do not count. I remember at one of the first Arts Council meetings I had with regards to Mothers Who Make, the ACE officer with whom I met said to me, only half-jokingly, “So are you to blame for all the funding applications I am now receiving that include childcare costs?” Whilst being a primary carer is slowly becoming recognised as an access issue, motherhood, the ACE officer explained to me kindly, is not a disability. Becoming a mother is a chosen privilege, not an inherited challenge. You were not born with it, instead, you were the one that did the birthing. This is true, and also not the whole truth. For me, it is true that being able to care for and raise two human beings feels like a huge honour. It is also true that my experiencing and naming my mothering as such is probably a result of my own white, middle class upbringing. It is a result of my having my children in my late 30s and early 40s. But even whilst owning my middle-class-ness, I object to motherhood being framed as a kind of lifestyle choice, as if children were a nice accessory, to be obtained if you wish. Motherhood is not always chosen. In teenagers and young women motherhood is often associated, not with privilege, but with deprivation. And then there is the fact that if motherhood were a lifestyle choice it would be a fairlly terrible one – hours and hours of unpaid, undervalued labour that does nothing for your cultural capital. Meanwhile, for some, missing out on motherhood can be a source of lifelong grief. Like I said, it’s complicated. And that’s just the mothering. Then there’s the making….

When I started Mothers Who Make I decided on the word ‘make’ not just because of the alliteration with the word ‘mother.’ I decided on it because I hoped it would be more welcoming to more mothers to use an everyday verb like ‘make’, rather than a fancy noun like ‘artist.’ You can make a bed as well as a book. You can make it through the day. Make a mess. Make mistakes. Make a difference. Even so mothers are still all too ready to exclude themselves: “Oh, I don’t feel I can come at the moment, I’m not really making anything,” is something I have heard time and again from potential participants and I have to work hard at convincing them that having made some soup is as valid and valued in a MWM meeting as having put a painting on the wall of Tate Modern. The verb ‘to make’ comes close on the heels of the verb ‘to be’ in defining who we are: we are human makings – creatures that create. I have always said that if you understand the need for a group called Mothers Who Make to exist then you can come – i.e if you want to be there, you are welcome. But is that enough? Is it enough to say that anyone can join in if they like? Based on our limited statistics to date, the answer is definitely no- it’s not enough. At present we are predominantly white (96%), straight (85%) and non-disabled (85%) (Stats from 124 equality and diversity monitoring forms, not from on our online community of nearer 3000). To be in a position to have heard of the group at all, to identify with it, to want to participate, to feel able to go through the door of an arts venue (in a pre-pandemic era), I fear already necessitates a certain level of privilege. So, what to do? There is an overwhelming amount to do, but as a start Lizzy and I have put out a call for feedback and am holding two meetings to focus specifically on how to begin to extend and diversify MWM’s reach (for more details see under this blog), and already I have received some incredibly useful responses. Right now, I want to draw on and explore three strands of feedback.

The first (thanks to Lucy Bell) was that MWM’s vibe – in terms of the images we put out, verbal and visual, and the culture of the group – leans towards what is often referred to as ‘attachment parenting.’ Our intention is to hold spaces that are non-judgemental and that do not condone or condemn any particular style of mothering. There is no right answer as to how to mother, how to make or how to manage the extraordinary challenge of doing both. Everyone has to do what is right for their particular circumstances, and their child/ren, and we recognise that ‘right’ even for an individual is an always changing work-in-progress. Part of the point of the network is to share and make visible to one another the enormous range of the answers that people explore and live out. However, in large part because my own solutions to the conundrums of mothering have been attachment parenting ones, I believe this has impacted the vibe of MWM and agree that, if this is not your style of parenting, it might make you steer clear. 

The second piece of feedback (thanks to Zoe Gardner), was that MWM’s spaces, in person or online, often invite ambiguity, asking people to wear double identities, and therefore to blend or blur them. It implies in its name a relationship between mothering and making, a mucky mixture of selves and practices. I think this links back to the attachment parenting point – again I recognise it in myself. It’s what I do – I breastfeed my children, whilst typing my blogs sitting on their bedroom floor. I co-sleep with them and with my notebooks. I have carried the children in slings into rehearsal rooms and meetings. Both my mothering and making styles have been thoroughly messy, emergent and have involved much merging of spaces, tasks, beds, books and more. I strongly suspect that this tendency in me, which has in turn, to date, influenced the messaging of MWM, is connected to my relative privilege: if the gates are open to you, then you can afford to experiment with taking the walls down, rearranging the boundary lines; if the gates are closed to you, then messing with the walls isn’t necessarily an option, and might well be off-putting.

There is a further twist in this however- whilst many of these practices now seem white and middle class, their recent origins are most definitely non-western. A key text, written in 1975, which fuelled the whole attachment parenting movement, was The Continuum Concept by Jean Liedloff. Liedloff was inspired by her time spent living with the indigenous Yequana people in Venezuela. The Yequana carried their babies in slings, co-slept with them, breastfed on demand. MWM’s principle of holding spaces that are ‘adult-centred but child-friendly’ is directly linked to one of Liedloff’s key observations of how the Yequana raised their children in the midst of adult activity, as opposed to segregating them off into child-centred environments. I was born when the Continuum Concept first came out, when carrying your baby on your back would have been identified, by most in the UK, as something a woman from Africa might do, not a practice done by a white woman in Oxfordshire (my mother). Jump on forty years and, if you google images of ‘baby on back,’ the first one that comes up is of a white man with an Ergo-baby sling, a white baby inside it, standing smiling in his garden. This feels like dangerous and difficult territory. This shift could be framed as western culture growing more diverse, or as an act of appropriation, or both. Whichever it is, it adds to the complexity of the picture, which brings me to the third piece of feedback.

           It came as a question on Facebook (thanks to Wendy Thomson) “Are we in white knight/ saviour behaviour mode?”- are non-white mothers, for example, doing just fine, thank you very much, with their own groups and support networks? And then there was also a response (thanks to Kit Whitfield Thomas) “I don’t think it is white knight mode, just manners. What is the alternative? – not trying to include us and assuming we should just sort it all out ourselves?” And along with this Kit made a request not to assume anything, a request, as a mother of a SEN child, for an acknowledgement that “no experience of motherhood is universal”. I think these are all vital questions and requests. We must keep inviting but be alert to our manners – the manner and the mode of the invitation, to keep making and holding space for, not the universe, but the countless, complex, diverse versions of experiences within it.

           These three pieces of feedback have helped me to begin to think more deeply about diversity and equality, inclusion and exclusion in relation to MWM and beyond. Mothers Who Make already excludes – it is explicitly not for everyone – the clue is in the name. I have been challenged on this point repeatedly, most often with the question: “What about fathers?”. My response stems from a belief in specificity and difference. Equal does not mean ‘the same as.’ It may mean having the same pay, the same rights, the same access to opportunities, but it does not mean having the same experiences or identity. For now there needs to be a movement called ‘Black Lives Matter’ not ‘All Lives Matter,’ which doesn’t mean white lives don’t matter; and there needs to be a group called ‘Mothers Who Make’ not ‘Parents who Make,’ even though there are many creative fathers who also need support. Some lives that have not been deemed to matter, need to be visibly valued right now. Some experiences that have been marginalised need a special, protected space. Even in a utopian future, I am not sure the aim should be a world where we no longer need these groups and movements that hold space for specific differences, such as the black, the trans, the queer, the disabled, the maternal– and of course within each of these categories are a thousand further differences. My utopian vision would not be of a colour-blind world, in which no one notices race anymore, but rather one involving ever sharper vision. One in which people would see everything, every colour, pattern, nuance, every difference in ever greater detail.

           For the second time this year I find myself reaching for my copy of the parenting classic, ‘Siblings without Rivalry’ by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. One of its chapters is headed “Equal is less:”

“To be loved equally….is somehow to be loved less. To be loved uniquely—for one’s own special self—is to be loved as much as we need to be loved.”

Back in February I quoted this same line within a blog about rivalry. I wrote,

“Yes, this makes sense. Equal is still in the paradigm of quantity. Equal implies that you could have more than me, even if we have the same. It explains my children bickering over identical chocolate bars – they both have exactly the same, and that, in the end, is not enough, not what they want. They want their differences, not their same-ness…as long as we remain in the world of quantities, of equal signs, then there is always an implied risk that one of them could lose - minus, subtraction, less, loss.”

Often ‘equal’ connotes a measure-able amount which results, I believe, in this fear of scarcity. The phrase ‘equal access,’ seems more useful. It is not the gold, but the access to the gold, that needs to be shared. This may seem like a crazy distinction, but I think it is important – it makes equality a dynamic process not an amount, the swaying of the scales, not the stuff weighed out in them. My children are not equal, they are not static, not quantifiable. As a mother, my job is not to treat them the same, but rather to recognise and celebrate their evolving, see-sawing differences. In a way their differences are the gold, and it is plentiful. Diversity involves a generous kind of maths – multiplication – always more. Equality and Diversity monitoring forms, however, involve more difficult calculations- our differences are boxed,tracked and stacked into statistics in pursuit of everyone having equal access. It is hard to keep the sense of equality as a dynamic process when faced with those forms. So, whilst they are a critical tool on a vital quest, I think we also need to keep doing the other sum- the one so long that it never reaches the equals sign but we know the answer to it is infinity – a glorious inventory of our never-ending differences.

As is recognised in the work of Abraham Maslow, in Marshal Rosenburg’s Non-Violent Communication, and in many spiritual traditions, if you go far enough with detailing the differences, patterns begin to emerge – we start to connect up, to equal one another at the deepest level of our needs. “Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a green field,” writes Rumi, the 12th C Sufi poet, and once we meet there, there is another inventory to be found, a list of the fundamentals to which we all require and deserve access: food, shelter, rest, warmth, autonomy, play, love……the complete sum of our same-ness.

           For the last month my daughter has wanted the same bedtime book. Unprompted she has had her four-year-old finger on the pulse of the world’s process, for she has asked me again and again for ‘Mix,’ by Arree Chung. It is a beautiful, witty picture book, that I would recommend to anyone wanting to talk about difference and race with their children. It opens:

“In the beginning there were three colours: Reds, Yellows and Blues. Reds were the loudest, Yellows were the brightest and Blues were the coolest. Everyone lived in colour harmony, until one day when a red said, ‘Reds are the best!’….”

The colours decide to divide – to live in separate parts of the city. But then a Blue and a Yellow fall in love, and, contentiously, the first interracial marriage takes place. A mixed-race child is born - they call her Green. Slowly the other colours are inspired- more and more mixing follows, until at last they give up on segregation. The final line is my favourite one in the book: “The new city was full of colour. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.” I love that the happy ending is imperfect – it makes equality dynamic again, not a final prize possession but an unfolding multi-coloured process.

Meanwhile, Mothers who Make will continue to hand out equality and diversity monitoring forms. But alongside these, we will also start to interrogate and diversify the kinds of images and words we use, the places we advertise ourselves, the venues with which we work, the range of events we hold, in an effort to make ourselves more genuinely accessible to mothers and makers of every kind. Right now, I have, not so much a question of the month, as a request to put to you: I want to know about how you are different. I want to know about what you need. I want to know how to access you and how you might best access me, us, MWM. This is a fourfold invitation: you can write to me with your feedback via email - matilda@motherswhomake.org . You can come to one of the diversity meetings happening this month (details below). And you can fill in our equality and diversity form so we can gain a more accurate picture of our network: https://forms.gle/wgDm335c1zQbaKer7  

Lastly, you can do this: go beyond the boxes- go as deep as you can into your difference. Whether it is your ethnic identity, your neurodiversity, your sexuality, your gender, your disability, your child’s disability, your mental health challenges. Articulate it however you wish. Maybe it will be a list, an inventory. Maybe a letter. A photo. A drawing. A song. Be as specific as you can. Name all your identities, all your differences. This is a creative injunction - I believe it may in fact be where making begins - tracking your difference, your way of accessing the world, as the origin of art.  

Our diversity-focussed meetings, via Zoom, open to all, are on: Thursday 9th July 1-2.30pm BST and Tuesday 28th July 10-11.30am BST. Children are welcome too. Email matilda@motherswhomake.org if you wish to attend.