I Need To Memorize Hundred Of Slides By Tomorrow Hate It Here
I need to memorize hundred of slides by tomorrow hate it here
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anonymous asked on cc: punk h trying to do something cute for his cute sweet boy friend lou (like learning how to do some tiktok dance or learning how to knit something for him)
Harry doesn’t think he’s a bad boyfriend. Of course, there’s not much meaning when he’s the one saying it, but he likes to think he’s good to Louis. He listens to him, he actively pays attention, gets excited about anything Louis’ excited about — even if it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Louis’ cute when he’s excited, and who’s Harry to dim his excitement? He answers his phone when Louis needs him to, doesn’t get too grumpy when Louis’ spent the whole day at Zayn’s, and he’s almost sure he could write a pretty decent biography of his boyfriend if asked. He takes him out on dates, he makes sure Louis almost always comes first if not twice, and Harry’s just — he’s sort of whipped.
So, he’s not a bad boyfriend. But there’s always room for improvement, right? He has to work to keep Louis happy.
Louis’ bedroom is covered in plants. At this point, Harry doesn’t know which plants are fake or which ones are real, and he’s definitely not going to try and figure it out — he’d only embarrass himself by watering a plastic plant. The problem is that Louis’ bedroom is more plants than room — it’s not bad, no, but Louis’ taking home two new plants every week and at this rate, there’s barely room to walk. It’s cute, Louis’ cat Fiona is always hiding in the various pots, and he can tell Louis likes living in his own little jungle of a bedroom.
Shelves are what Louis needs. Even if Louis refuses to move any of his other plants, at least his new ones will have a proper home, right?
The thing is, Harry’s never held anything more than a hammer or wrench in his life. Tools were never his thing. Listening to Nirvana, spending the time he should’ve been using to do homework getting high with his friends behind their uni, and recording ridiculous Arctic Monkeys covers in Mitch’s basement were more of his thing. He can shred a guitar but he’s not very confident in his skill to cut a level shelf.
After twenty YouTube tutorials and a trip to the hardware store, Harry’s finally cut two seemingly equal length pieces of wood. It takes a little while to decide where to place it and make sure it’s level, but it’s not long before Harry’s finally getting the shelf straightened out on the wall. Between all the banging, though, he doesn’t hear the door open and Louis whining in the hallway.
“I could’ve tripped over this, you know?” Louis huffs, stepping into the bedroom, small hand wrapped around Harry’s skateboard. He pauses, long lashes blinking at the mess in his room. “What’s — why does it look like a hard hat zone in here?” He frowns, raising an eyebrow to where Harry’s hiding a metre long piece of wood behind his back. “What are you doing?”
Harry shrugs his shoulders, tipping his head towards the shelf already nailed onto the wall. “You were complaining about not having enough room for that lily plant the other day,” Harry finally admits. The shy grin on Louis’ face is enough for Harry to decide that, yeah, this was totally all worth it.
“So you built me a shelf?”
Harry hesitates. “Didn’t really build it. Just sort of cut and nailed it,” he reasons. Louis just grins, shaking his head as he wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders.
“You built it. It’s cute,” Louis hums, kissing his cheek and resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.
“Did you carve that?” Harry hears Louis giggle into his ear a few seconds later, and remembers immediately what Louis is referring to. There’s a little heart carved into one of the shelves, the only one he’s managed to bolt into the wall so far, with a little H + L in the middle of it. He may or may not have sat on the floor and used his house key to carve it.
“No,” Harry lies. “It was there when I bought it. Soulmate stuff, you could say.”
Louis picks his head up stares at him, cheeks tinted a dusty pink and blue eyes crinkling. “You’re a sap.”
It might be true.
hey I'm part of the Louie art fest and I'm just double checking: so on my posting date I can post any time that day, tag it with #LouieArtFest and that's it or is there more? (its my first art fest and im nervous-cited!)
Hello!! Yes thats it! You can post it anywhere you like either twitter or tumblr or even both! Yay im so glad you’re participating thank you🥺 cant wait to see your piece😆💗
don't look at this
“How often are you intimate?” Petra asks, peering up over the rim of her glasses as she taps away at her iPad. What she could be writing down, Louis doesn’t know.
“Intimate?” Louis hesitates, shifting on the settee nervously. Next to him, Harry doesn’t even blink as he absently toys with a leaf plant potted beside them.
She frowns, nails immediately clicking against the screen. Great. Now she’s judging Louis’ sex life. He can see the notes now.
“How often do you have sex?” She clarifies as if Louis doesn’t know what getting intimate with each other means. He knows what it means; he's just failed to realize that couples counseling meant discussing everything – including their sex life.
And lack thereof, of course.
Louis frowns. “Last month,” he says at the same time Harry answers, “last week.” Petra just raises an eyebrow, glancing between the couple curiously.
“Last week,” Harry repeats firmly, sparing a brief look at Louis before he’s stretching out comfortably and aiming his gaze at Petra. “He’s erasing it from his memory because I called him a slut and he threw a fit.”
Louis’ neck snaps to look at him, mouth gaping open.
Harry shrugs, extending his arm over the back of the couch. “Endearingly, though. It was endearing.”
“In what world is the word ‘slut’ meant to be endearing?” Louis asks, perplexed.
“See what I mean, Petra? Here he goes again,” Harry grumbles. “Something always has to be bothering you.”
Louis fish-mouths, twisting his body to completely face the man. “You called me a slut!”
“When you’re on your knees, gagging for my–” Harry pauses, glancing towards Petra and likely recalling she’s still in the room with them. He’s too good at this, Louis thinks. “Of course I’m going to call you a slut. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you any less.”
Louis swallows.