I just realised how differently the image language of the pink bath waters speaks to me after hearing the album (yes, it took me almost a week to remember they go together).
The visual language with SOTT was so epic and ‘end of the world’ and it suited the song perfectly. After that aesthetic, it was a surprise to me to see all that soft, serene, floral pinkness of the album visuals - feels of purity and purifying, calm, peace (I’d been expecting a lot more melancholic feel to continue, both in visuals and also with the album).
Now, that I’ve heard the album and see the pink pictures more fully again, the feeling has changed. They now seem like stuck muddled waters, lonely instead of peaceful, drifting in some sort of bittersweet space - the feel of serenity has been replaced by the feel of not belonging to your surroundings, or to yourself. What first felt as emotional nakedness, now feels like hiding and closing off.
You swayed your hips to the current song blaring from your speakers, a fun, and party-type tune to keep you from getting bored with your current cleaning.
Harry had gone out to do a few errands and in his absence, you decided to do some light cleaning around the living room that had begun to be littered with dust and accidental snack spills.
As you began to remove the dust collection from your bookcase, the song switched to the romantic melody to the song you knew like the back of your hand. Stickwitu by the Pussycat Dolls began bouncing off the walls, the lyrics now holding a deeper and more relatable meaning than you last remembered. At the first chorus, you kept quiet, still bobbing your head slowly to the beat, but as soon as the chorus hit you began belting out the lyrics.
“Nobody gonna love me better, I must stick with you forever,” you sang loudly, using the duster as a makeshift microphone. Suddenly, cleaning was the last thing on your mind. You stepped off the stool and made your way towards the middle of the living room, still singing the lyrics as if you were performing them. “They ain’t bringing us down. I know you and you know me and that’s all that counts. ”
“You know how to appreciate me, I must stick with you, my baby.” As you did your shoulder roll and whipped around, you came face to face with a smug looking Harry at the doorway. With his abrupt appearance and all of a sudden humiliation, you let out a shriek, also throwing the duster in your hand towards him. He catches against his lap and lets out a half-chuckle sort of half-cough as the dust from it clouds around him.
You hurried over to the coffee table where your phone sat and shut of the extremely loud music, mentally slapping yourself for not putting the volume lower so you can be on the lookout of Harry’s arrival.
“Quite the performance,” Harry laughs, making his way over to you.
“Shut up!” You groan, placing your palm against his chest once he reaches you. “How long were you there?”
“A while,” he smirks, his eyes looking into yours with a playful twinkle. “Is that song dedicated to someone?”
“Yeah,” you trail off, looking down at your fiddling fingers. “My dog back at home.”
You quickly spun away and rushed into the kitchen, leaving a fake-hurt Harry trailing behind you.
“Y/N!” Harry whines, his long arms snaking around your waist to spin you around and press you against the kitchen island. “If it makes you feel better, I think you perform better than I do.”
“I guess that makes me feel a little better,” you say, sliding your hands up his chest and linking them behind his neck. “But that song is still dedicated to my dog,” you playfully wink before slipping out of his grip and running out of the room.
Harry places his hands on the counter, amusement written all over his face with a large smile adorning it.
“I’ll get you to admit it,” he calls out, a small and breathy laugh leaving his lips before he chases after you.
Some women. Some dads. Some babies. Some pregnancies. Some people- the babygate masterpost.
One comment: if this gets to antis or formers or however they call themselves:
The Larries believe the baby is FAKE not only because of 1 or 2 or 3 bullet points, but because of ALL OF THEM. Don’t come to me saying bullet point 77 can be attacked while you are still unable to give me a logical explanation to the other 176 points. Thanks.
It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the morning or an hour before midnight, any time that you got to curl yourself up next to Harry on the couch for a quick, half-hour snooze never failed to make you the happiest, most content girl in the world.
There was a difference between falling asleep with Harry at night when you were both exhausted from the day’s events (or the more…physical event that had happened just previous), and falling asleep with Harry for a nap. Night sleeps were more about passing out for 6, 7, 8, 9 (?) hours at a time and getting ready for the next day. Sure, you would cuddle at night, but you were both also prone to move around the bed and, by the morning, were often in a completely different position than you had been in when you fell asleep.
Naps were all about shoving your bodies as close together as possible in a small space, Harry’s arms wrapping tightly around your body and vice versa, legs tangled in each other, head on his chest, lazy kisses being pressed to your forehead as you both drifted off into a light sleep for a very short amount of time.
Rainy day naps were the best. The kind where you were both sitting together on the couch watching a film or reading a book or even just scrolling on your phones. It would be the middle of the day and you’d have nothing to do. The rain would be pattering down on the window and it would often be the only sound in the room. You’d start out sitting on opposite ends, the only physical contact being your legs sprawled out and meeting in the middle. Soon, one or both of you would start to get sleepy. The words or images would start to swim in front of your eyes and you’d need to take a break. Harry would often feel you crawl to the other side of the couch and rest your head on his tummy, nuzzling yourself down as if you were trying to create some sort of crater for your head. He would smile, run his hand through your hair and continue what he was doing until he also got too sleepy to carry on. So he would lay down his book or his phone and snuggle down into the cushion, carefully pulling your body up a little higher so you were on his shoulder and wrap you into his arms, breathing in the scent of your hair as he closed his eyes.
The rain was a wonderful background noise and that, coupled with the feel of Harry’s chest moving up and down with each breath, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear and the feel of his breathing lightly ghosting over your face was enough to lull you right to sleep. The couch was rather small to fit both of you comfortably, but it didn’t matter. You were more than happy to tangle yourselves up together as tightly as you could in order to fit. Every so often an arm or a back would cramp and you would need to readjust, but you always did your best to accommodate each others body.
When you would both finally wake up, there would be that slight moment of disorientation as you tried to remember how you got here, but then you would be reminded by the feel of Harry’s arms around you and his hair slightly in your face and feel relaxed again.
A sleepy gaze would be cast up at him and you would be met with soft, green eyes and a lingering kiss as Harry slowly woke himself up with the feel of your lips on his.
“G'mornin’, love.” He would say, in a husky low voice that he always had right after waking up.
He would stretch, careful not to jostle you too much, and then resume holding you close. Then you would both take a minute or two, or five, or twenty, to completely wake up before begrudgingly getting off the couch and going on with your day. But the effects of the nap would linger long after waking up. Harry would often make an excuse to cuddle into your while you worked in the kitchen or messed around with something in the bedroom because he was still a little sleepy and the feel of your body was all he really wanted in the moment. And you were more than happy to let him because you were also still a bit groggy and you always craved Harry’s touch when you were in this state.
So while naps with Harry were still your favorite, you also loved the time before and after the nap just as much.