It was more your flat than it was Harry’s now, after years of living in it. Originally, it had started under the premise that you would only remain in his flat for as long as it took you to find your own place. Which was fine, because he wasn’t staying there and you needed a place as uni started and you were friends, close friends, and it was all fine and dandy.
But then you really started to get busy with your schoolwork and considering the workaholic and professional perfectionist that you were, you were constantly on the move between classes and work and more classes and your second job. And besides, Harry was really only in and out at that point. The tour was coming to an end, the band was on their final days, and Harry really hadn’t thought much of it that you had now lived in his London flat for an entire year.
And also, he felt bad. He felt bad that you felt the need to always support and provide for yourself and that you were doing nothing but working yourself to death in order to pay your tuition and then be able to find your own living conditions and so finally he had said, “Just stay here. Stop worrying about it. You’re fine here, Y/N. Really.”
Though you’d fought it originally, you knew that in order to keep your perfect grades in tact and be able to get to work on time, there was no better place to live than where Harry was. You were centrally located now considering you’d applied to jobs close to Harry’s flat so you could walk, and you only had to walk a solid fifteen minutes to get on campus. You were comfortable, Harry was comfortable, all was well.
Big Paw’s Cave, is the final Moppet title released by Intrepid Marketing, considered the rarest of all 6 Moppet titles. It was the only Moppet title that had dedicated side art unique to its game title(not the usual Moppet side art; two children’s faces). The Berenstain Bears in Big Paw’s Cave was the most complex of the Moppet Video games released by Enter-Tech, Ltd.. While there was one additional Moppet Video game that was in development at the same time as this one, Popeye, it was never finished or released.
The only ever known and recorded cabinet of this game was at Harborview Hospital in the mid 80s, no longer available there.
There is one cabinet in the private collection of a collector in California.
Control Brother Bear, a member of the Berenstain Bears family, navigating a switchback path across an underground chasm in order to sneak past Big Paw (a non-anthropomorphic bear in the book and cartoon universe) to reach the outside. The levels increase in difficulty both by virtue of a longer path and more obstacles, including bats, falling stalactites, etc.
Max Simultaneous Players: 1 Max Players: 2 Gameplay: Alternating Control Panel Layout: Single Player Controls: Joystick: 8-way Sound: Amplified Mono
ADDITIONAL TECHNICAL INFORMATION
Main CPU : MOS Technology M6502 (@ 2 Mhz ) Sound Chips : General Instrument AY8910 (@ 2 Mhz) Screen orientation : Vertical Video resolution : 224 x 240 pixels Screen refresh : 60.00 Hz Palette colors : 256
-I fucking loved this film, utterly and wholly because Ridley Scott let his freak flag fly
-this film is mythological in stature; combining Greek gods, Mary Shelley, Old Testament, haunted houses, the cosmos; goddamn delightful
-as the first shot implies, the android David is our protagonist
-in fact this film starkly makes me realize that he is kinda the whole key to the “Prometheus” saga (which makes it separate from “Alien” saga)
+everyone else plays second fiddle /he is an id for Ridley
-this might be Fassbender’s greatest performance yet; he is given great leeway and pedestals for the character and hits all of them on the bullseye
-I think the little opening mini movie is marvelous; deftly setting up the idea of mortality and creation
-nice to Guy Pierce play Weyland young, allowing him to put his distinctive gravitas stamp on the character
-the shot of David at the piano is a scrumptious shot that exists inside the film and by itself
-the scope of the space station with the yellow sail, immediately tips us off this will be a grand adventure, far away from the tight corridors of “Alien” and very much its own thing, in the 50’s sci fi mold
+I love it
-didn’t expect a person to burn to death in their cryo sleep chamber. A sharp note to unsettle our nerves
-Fassbender plays a second, pretty much identical looking android named Walter, and his very small adjustments become pronounced the more we see him interact, creating a separate identity
-he is much more docile and very tender to the grieving Daniels (the wife of the burned man)
-Daniels is played by Katherine Waterson, who has a moppet look but fierce convictions
-I find her scene mourning his loss and their shattered co life together very moving and well done
+interesting to note a woman getting over a man’s death when often in films it’s very much the opposite
-what is up with both films in “Prometheus” saga making the pilot the most amusing character, and a name actor playing them? Ideas Elba before, Danny McBride killing it here
-I laughed out loud when the Daniel’s ex is revealed to be James Franco; face timing while rock climbing without a safety rope is exactly what his reputation would infer he would do
-I find the use of McBride humming along to the transmission to the tune of John Denver very amusing
+again echoing Elba playing Stephen Stills’ “love the one you’re with” (and I suppose the disco in Scott’s “The Martian”). 70’s music in the 22nd century. Interesting motif
-I like how the film establishes billy crudup’s character as a total chickenshit, unable to handle the responsibility of leading the crew
+interesting detail where it talks about him being super religious, referring to his fellow colonists as “my flock”, leaving him thought to be unsuitable to delegate and survive under pressure
-crudup of course ignores waterson’s perfectly good advice and reservations, which makes me wonder if the morale of the Universe is “He should have listened to her; the story of the cosmos”
-it is very strange to see so such forest and green land in this series
-I particularly like the line “do you hear that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing”
-the chemical warfare of “Prometheus” is very pronounced as the black substance makes its way into the victims ears noses; again, this directly clashes with the Ripley saga but it’s doing its own thing here and and is pretty consistent
-nice little moment as Walter tries to comfort Daniels’ reservations by simply stating “it would make a lovely spot for a cabin” then walks away; contrast to Crudup’s character overselling how great he finds it, and continues to rattle off how over worried he found Daniels, this smothering her and make her apprehensive
+brevity is the soul of wit is set up here
-good god, there is a ton of blood here, a smattering of it
-I find the scene where the first infected strobes out and spurts blood out his back to be effectively creepy
-I’m considering the creature in this film (“neomorph”) a in between. Not as well designed as the giger perfection, but a huge step up from the black sea liquor from “Prometheus”. It is startling and very well directed
-a masterful little shot as a dead colonist is shown partially in frame, his wedding ring clearly in shot, another man cupping his head, and whispering to his mouth “I love you”; succinctly setting up their same sex love and marriage
-the neomorph is definitely far more animalistic in this film. It’s given unhuman like movements, that suggest more primal instincts
-I cannot do justice to the goosebumps I felt as the party was lead by its stranger savior and we see the charred bodies and landscapes
-the stranger savior is at this point revealed to be David (with iggy pop type hair at first) who then hijacks back the film, rightfully so
-immensely hilarious moment as David shoulder knocks Walter, and adds “Hello there, brother”
-David is giving me Dr. Pretorius (“Bride of Frankenstein”)/Dr. Moreau (“Island of Dr. Moreau”) vibes
+ie creators who bent the structure of biology and didn’t care who got destroyed in the way
-there is a long, long scene where Walter and David take turns playing the flute that is frankly worthy of an entire essay in itself
-firstly, it’s a big fuck you to anyone who was dismayed by the flute segment in “Prometheus”
+there it was five seconds, here it’s like 10 minutes and two identical people are doing it at the same time
-secondly, they are playing the fucking theme to “Prometheus” on said flute
+those is self-reference in the scale of Mel Brooks (and makes me think Ridley was grinning during the Sean bean-“lord of the rings” scene in “The Martian”
-the line to Watler from David “just blow, I will take care of the fingering”
-it is revealed that David unnerved people by being so human like in temperament that future versions like Walter were “streamlined”/neutered, so that Walter can play but not compose
+there’s going to be a whole genetic modification bit coming up, but now I realize how eugenics/forced sterilization this sounds
-the contrasting glee in David’s voice and unease in Walter’s eyes as David relates how he was around their creator when he died, and David notes “he was stupid and weak, like all humans”
-the whole scene the camera is robotically swerving around clearly adding to the tension the audience feels in witnessing this unorthodox meeting
-needless to say, the film takes a monumental leap and variance in tone hereafter
-David mentions that Shaw (From “Prometheus”, last seeing going with David as a decapicated head) died, but she was “so kind to me” and David loved her
-“much the same way Walter looks at you” (Daniels disagrees) “oh, does he call it ‘duty’? I know the difference”
-Ridley is really digging into the horror elements of the film as the neomorph comes up the wall and severs a woman’s head, leaving it floating in a full sink
+the neomorph is eating her shoulder, shoring carnivore habits for the time in this universe
-one of the strangest moments (and there will be plenty coming up) where David and the tall albino neomorph are communicating via breathing
-the most emotion David has is when crudup kills it and David screams “how could you?!? He trusted me!”
-crudup has a equally odd non sequitur where he threatens David to “tell me what is going on, or I will destroy your perfectly calm composure”
-this film is bizarre and exploitive in the extreme
-for those that are keeping track, the importance hierarchy is as follows
+we are fucked
- my favorite sequence in the entire film as we see (via David’s memories?) that he dropped the entire payload of black goo/chemical weapons upon an unsuspecting engineer population (who look totally different from ones we saw in “Prometheus” in facial structures and eyes) and they die as the goo descends upon them like locusts.
+it seriously looks straight out of Exodus as God wrecked his vengeance upon Pharioh
-so yes, that was the charred bodies we saw before
-we see the lair of David as it is littered with graphs, illustrations, designs of his work in the goo into the neomorph and beyond
+ his response, dripping with sarcasm: “idle hands are the devil’s anything”
-we are officially one step closer to classic “Alien” universe as the first facehugger is introduced (to kill crudup)
-Daniels is trying to reach Tennessee (Danny McBride) as still others are getting slaughtered, the neomorphs are clearly the hounds to David’s Satan
-line of the film as crudup wakes up to see David, asks him what his religion is, and he responds “Creation”
-a early beta of the xenomorph is here (still not quite Giger 100), as he splits from Crudup’s chest after the question, and he dances, mimicking the moments of David
+David looks like a puppet master pulling the strings
-more facehugger madness as others go after the remaining human sheep
-much like “Prometheus” this multi million dollar film has a strikingly low opinion of humanity
+ at this point, two films in, the expendable nature of the vast majority of people therein is a feature, not a bug
-positively bizarre sequence as David tempts Walter to his side, kissing him(self) on the lips, before ripping out his neck battery, depowering him
-I neglected to mention just before that my second favorite line of the film, after Walter cited a line then asks who did it, David answers Byron but Walter correctly notes
“No, Shelley. If one section of the orchestra is off, it changes the entire symphony doesn’t it?”
-David has officially gone too far
-David coos “no one knows what it is like to dream and be perfect like myself”
-remember early when I said the importance scales? Well, since Ridley seems to see David as a propionate of creation, therefore a creator it would perhaps follow as such
-possibly subliminal moment where David corners Daniels and she’s asks what really happened to Shaw, and David says “this” then forces a kiss upon Daniels
+so did this robot, who was too human for other humans, teach the neomorph to rape?
-Walter is back (they made a few safety measures since David) and this we get to see someone hitting his own face repeatedly
+it is fucking weird to see this brawling action in a Ridley Scott film
-Tennessee is here to save the day, but now the brute pronto xenomorph is here, and this murder is getting more grisly by the second
-David asks Walter to decide whether to reign in hell or serve in heaven as he reaches for a knife
-the sequence where Daniels is held by a straight line as she keeps falling over the side of the ship, swings and shoots at the proto xeno is jaw dropping
-is Tennessee the giant claw dropper of doom as he uses an arm to crush the proto xeno? Seems like it
-you better believe I was eagle eyes to see if it was Walter or David helping Daniels
-aboard the main ship there is a unidentified life form aboard, but where are the co pilots?
-in a scene straight out of the sleaziest slasher from the 80’s (like prime “Friday the 13th”) the co pilots are having shower sex (to some r&b music) when the xenomorph puts his phallic tail between their genitals
+then impale tongue’s the guy’s head. Sexploitation!
-every close up on Fassbender’s face is a mini master class in suspense
-I fucking cannot believe they brought back the xenomorph point of view, the first time since “Alien 3”
-this second proto xeno is slobbering like the cerberus he is
-my heart is pounding like a jackhammer the entire time Daniels is staying barely ahead of the creature
-“care to lend a lady a hand?” might be the mantra of this depraved series
-the subtle continuity of the cabin comes up as her face screams in terror as she realizes David is here, and there are no cabins in hell
-one final twist of the screw as David coughs up some proto xeno eggs and looks upon the vast laboratory of human frogs to dissect
-this film took everything I loved about “Prometheus” and kicked it up ten notches, while adding many many more layers of cosmic craziness. Oh, and blood.
+ I am fully confident the “Prometheus” saga will gain a cult following and be seen as one man’s tremendous exploitation of his own creation(like David?) and a particular, articulate and demented journey into space hell.
-I myself feel the flames get higher and higher, and wonder if I will be making repeat journeys to this particular corner again. I feel it to be so.
I have this acquaintance who seems to believe that I’ve been unfairly circumspect regarding my opinion of this (and other) episodes. I am aghast (aghast, I tell you) at this ruthless judgment of how I best enjoy my cartoons.
To defang such a callous accusation, this seemed like the way to go.
(Featuring xtreme whining, manga spoilers like whoa, more whining, and maybe a few spots of joy. Who can say. I haven’t started yet, and I’ve never done a liveblog before. It’s a surprise for everyone.)
So, Attack on Titan Episode 30, “Historia.” Let us begin!
I’ve been sick this past few days (it feels like weeks now) and so I have wanted little more than to cry about STAR WARS feelings by reading emotionally satisfying and/or heartbreaking fic and then maybe some porn to go along with it. Leaking faces and wanting to vomit are a lot more tolerable when they come with feelings and porn. \o/
STAR WARS FIC RECS: ✦ To Argue is to Love by Zinga763, obi-wan & anakin, 1k Anakin is sick, Obi-Wan is confused. ✦ In Want by updiddlyupup, obi-wan & anakin, 7k Desperate to avoid all the ways he isn’t settling in, Anakin goes on a quest. ✦ Negotation by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, modern au, serial killer au, 64.8k wip Over a year ago, Coruscant Police Detective Anakin Skywalker vanished without a trace while hunting the prolific serial killer known within the media as “The Negotiator”. ✦ destination: nowhere by kasuchans, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, some (force) bondage, 4.6k The Outlander Club is known for two things: strong drinks and gambling. It’s really difficult to get home after indulging in either one of the two. ✦ the kids aren’t all right by QueenWithABeeThrone, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & ahsoka & cast, 33.1k “He dragged me up a hill so I wouldn’t burn to death,” says Anakin. “Obi-wan’s still in there, I know it. I’m going to save him.” ✦ Broken by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, amnesia, dark content, 3.6k The Twins are unstoppable enforcers of the Emperor’s will, the sun and moon that hang in the black void of his rule. It is said they are not the same age and that under their hoods they do not look alike, but they fight as one entity, silent and terrible as an eclipse in a spring sky. ✦ untitled by writegowrite, obi-wan/anakin, sith!obi-wan, 1.1k Like the steel blade he wields, Obi-Wan Kenobi has come far from his simple beginnings. Anakin Skywalker is one of the brightest suns in the Order of the Dawn. ✦ late night under the stars + angsty fight by writegowrite, obi-wan/anakin, ~1k Did the first two in little vignettes as my writing warm-up for tonight… ✦ In Color by Glare, obi-wan/anakin/padme, soulmark au, modern au, 15.4k wip Anakin Skywalker is six years old the first time he marks on his skin with intent. ✦ Five Times Anakin Was Uncivilized and One Time Obi-Wan Didn’t Mind by Nisa, obi-wan/anakin, 2k It’s all in the title. :) ✦ untitled by Glare, obi-wan/anakin/padme, human au, 1.3k The thing is, Obi-Wan doesn’t hate his roommates. ✦ untitled by themikeymonster + ialreadyreadthatfanfic + likealeafonthewind + phosphorescent-naidheachd, obi-wan/anakin/padme, 2.5k TPM AU where Padme has a (completely obvious) teenage crush on Padawan Obi-Wan. Little Anakin is slightly upset before promptly deciding he’ll just have to marry them both once he’s old enough. ✦ The Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars by A_Delicate_Fury, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & han & cast, time travel, 9.4k wip “I don’t know how this happened. I don’t yet know why. But this is definitely Anakin’s fault.” ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, cody & yoda & cast, supreme chancellor!obi-wan au, ~1k Anonymous asked: I’d love to see the trooper’s views in all this. Exasperation at Kenobi not taken enough consideration of his safety. Worries that he’s not sleeping, forgetting to eat? What did they see that made them go to Yoda for help?
Ever since James Corden announced that Carpool Karaoke would become its own Apple Music series, he’s held off on airing his most viral segment on The Late Late Show. But he made an exception Thursday night just to help Harry Styles promote his new album, Harry Styles. (And also because Apple Music has delayed the series premiere indefinitely, but shhhh.)
The segment gave Styles the chance to introduce his new, adult persona to an audience that still thinks of him as the floppy-haired moppet from One Direction, and he grabbed at it with both hands. Adult Harry Styles is down! Adult Harry Styles will have none of your toxic masculinity. Adult Harry Styles will break out surprisingly competent Julia Roberts and Kate Winslet impressions when asked, and he will cheerfully admit that his favorite movie is The Notebookand his go-to karaoke song is “Endless Love.”
The resulting clip is a seamless fit with his woke bae persona, the one that recently had Styles passionately defend his teenage girl fan base to Rolling Stone, saying, “Teenage-girl fans — they don’t lie. If they like you, they’re there. They don’t act ‘too cool.’ They like you, and they tell you. Which is sick.“ In the same interview, Styles told Rolling Stone that wanted to name his eponymous album Pink, because "pink is the only true rock & roll color.” He’s a heartthrob beloved of young women across the world, and dammit, he wants you to know that he loves and respects women and femininity. He’s not quite at the gender-bending pyrotechnics of his heroes Bowie and Prince, but he’s on his way.
Like many groups to come out of X Factor, One Direction were assembled from would-be solo artists; despite their harmonies, scripted lad camaraderie, and terrifying sales numbers, the band was always a holding pattern until the boys could return to their solo careers. Zayn Malik, after an acrimonious departure, took the traditional ex-boybander route: getting the best R&B beats money can buy, escaping the band’s pent-up songwriting to relive his past couple years of getting very laid, and being rewarded with radio airplay. Liam Payne, with a Migos collaborations in the works, is angling to join him. Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson have embarked upon the twin British traditions of becoming a busker with a budget and guesting on an EDM song.
And Harry Styles, as you may have heard, is attempting to be a rock star. Of course it sounds ridiculous; no matter what music they release, with what sugar content, everyone in One Direction may forever remain frozen in the public imagination as moppets with rumpled hair, bubblegum songs a large singularity of preteen fans. And yet someone’s got to manage it, or else we’d have no Beatles, no Michael, no anybody without a perfectly scuzzy, organic past. Every teen idol sounds ridiculous proclaiming their maturity, until they don’t.
Oddly enough, of the five One Directioners, Styles new solo output strays the least from the music the group actually made. So strong is the pejorative of being a boy band that the group progressed from power-pop takes on the Backstreet Boys to full-on, and often-great, Journey and The Who rips with hardly any ado; he was prepping for this moment, if not from the beginning, then at least since he took “Faithfully” to the desert in a leopard coat. But Styles, of course, would rather not be known for carrying on the One Direction sound. Where Zayn spent the months before his album telling the world he has sex, Harry’s run his own yearlong campaign insisting he has cred, culminating in enormous documentary profiles by Paul McCartney and Almost Famous’s Cameron Crowe. “I didn’t want to put out my first album and be like, ‘He’s tried to re-create the Sixties, Seventies, Eighties, Nineties,” Styles told Crowe. “I wanted to do something that sounds like me.”
But in the words of one of his idols, you can’t always get what you want. Harry Styles evokes all those decades, blatantly and shamelessly. As a result, Styles has been compared to everybody from David Bowie to Robbie Williams to Mott the Hoople (in very descending order), but he’s really the next Bruno Mars, doing with the British classic-rock canon what the one-time Smeezington has done with R&B and uptown funk. The two even share a producer: Jeff Bhasker, best known for pumping arenas full of air into albums by Kanye West (808s and Heartbreak, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy), fun. (Some Nights), and dozens of others in the past decade, including one “Uptown Funk.” But it’s Uptown Special—Mark Ronson’s 2015 solo album, which houses “Uptown Funk,” and which was completely co-produced by Bhasker—that Harry Styles most resembles, with its simultaneous tour through, scrubbing clean and blowing to oversize of the classics. The album’s practically a game of matching the rock classic to its modern interpreter. “Sweet Creature” is “Blackbird” in the style of Ed Sheeran; “Two Ghosts” is “You and I” in the style of James Taylor; lead single “Sign of the Times” is a Bowie pastiche named after a Prince album, a move so tacky in its timing that it swings all the way round to unremarkable.
Like Mars, Styles plays all his roles gamely but unthreateningly. No one escapes The X Factor with vocal rough edges remaining, and neither glam-rock excess nor sedate folk fingerpicking mask the talent-show eagerness remaining in his voice. And hand-waving tabloid freakoutery aside, spending the decade in a boy band produces less debauchery to write about than one might think. Much of Harry Styles dwells upon the same hotel rooms or the hallways leading to hotel rooms. There’s writing what you know, and then there’s writing all you know.
And for an artist who’s built his career on appealing to girls, Styles is at his most colorless when he sings about them. Gone is the campy macking of One Direction lyrics like “her daddy was a dentist, said I had a dirty mouth”; instead, Styles tries on cliches like “she’s a good girl, she feels so good,” rock sleaze diluted in the intervening decades until it barely registers. The lyric to “Sweet Creature,” in its gentle condescension, is so ’70s it may turn your speakers avocado. The second the ambient choirs of “Only Angel” give way to riff slashing and competently executed screech is the moment you know exactly where the lyric is going to go (to hell, via the sheets).
So yes, Harry Styles is frequently ridiculous. It is ridiculous to begin a song with one minute of choir woohooing and reverbed voice of God. It is ridiculous, if very Bhasker, to croon in falsetto about the bullets. It is exceedingly ridiculous to beg for morphine 50 seconds into the album, or to begin “Woman” with a call to Netflix and chill, or, on “From the Dining Table,” to intone about playing with oneself over agreeable Laurel Canyon folk. But you don’t get to be ridiculous if you aren’t trying. “Kiwi” doesn’t quite get to Suffragette City, but it definitely makes it as far as the adjoining suburbs. Properly enlivening the blues piano, pitch-shifted grunts and cuckold fantasy of “Woman” is tough, but it takes a lot of bravery to even attempt it. The gently smeared vocals of “Meet Me in the Hallway” are less Cat Stevens than Cat Power; it and the restrained verses of “Carolina” suggest Styles might have a haunted folk album in him a couple years from now, when he gets the swagger out of his system.
If he doesn’t, “Sign of the Times” redeems itself on sheer ambition, Styles delivering every line as if he’s making a crucifixion pose on a cliff projected onto a large arena that is smoldering, and Bhasker producing it to sound five times bigger still. If Harry Styles does indeed become a rock star, Harry Styles has ample retrospective evidence to see it coming. And if not, at least he couldn’t have tried harder.
It’s so cute. This fall, Racjin’s 3DS game Moco Moco Friends, which I did not notice at all when it came out in Japan, will be released in the U.S. by Aksys.
“An exciting twist on the adventure RPGs, build your skills and amass loads of cuddly monsters to become the ultimate Moppet Master! Battle against your rivals, scavenge items, venture through massive dungeons, evolve your Moppet monsters, and travel with your companions across the magical realm of Dreamtropy!”
So like a stuffed animal Pokémon? I still can’t think of anything to say about it but “cute,” but that’s one of the best attributes for a game to have. So I’m looking forward to seeing more about it as its fall release approaches.
Ok first off- I love you and think you're amazing Secondly- please do SOMETHING with Harry's thighs. They're so perfect and just scream thigh riding. Whenever you get a chance babe! Xx
First off: THANK YOU. Second: sorry it took me so long I wanted it to be special. Here you go xx
lost count of how many drinks you had downed in the short amount of time you
were at that party. People were surrounding you and talking loudly, the smell
of the food on Anne’s grill making your head spin a little bit. Had you eaten
anything…? Not sure you did.
lights cast a warm yellow light over the guests that are scattered through
Anne’s backyard, the hot summer night making your skin feel a little clammy and
your head swim with the heat. Your sundress is sticking to your skin and you
can feel your cheeks burning because of the alcohol, but there’s a certain ease
to the whole scenario. No one cares if you’re drunk, they know you long enough
to know that you’re harmless and you smile when Robin waves and checks if
you’re ok with a thumbs up that takes a giggle out of you.
standing at the corner with his sister, looking at something on her phone and
laughing when she said something to him. You couldn’t look away … his shoulders
seemed broader now, because of all the working out he’d put on for the film,
his arms bigger and stronger, his thighs looking delicious clad in his painted
on jeans and his neck was thicker too. You could see the glistening quality to
his exposed chest from where you were sitting, the heat casting a light sheen
of sweat on his inked skin. His hand, automatically searching for the lengthy
hair that was not there anymore ran over the nape of his neck and up the almost
buzz cut part of it before he tangled his fingers into the longer, curly part of
it. His lips looked pink, almost like the strawberries you loved to eat so much
and his eyes sparkled with happiness – he loved being around his family and
friends just as much as you loved being around him. He looks good, he looks
strong and lean and you want the hands that are currently wrapped around his
sister’s shoulder to be wrapped around you, running over your skin and touching
places he’s never been anywhere near before…
drooling, moppet.” Anne’s voice snaps you out of your daydream, her soft hand
patting your burning cheeks and a soft smile on her face.
okay! so! I feel like Harry is the type of person who takes fights in a relationship fairly serious. When u guys would fight, he would eventually back down if he sees it’s getting into dangerously high grounds, letting out a deep, tired sigh and knuckling at his puffy eyes, dragging his hand down his face and looking at you all soft and resigned, slouching into the couch and patting the spot next to him. “Come sit down, love. Let’s settle this out without the screaming, yeah?”
And you guys would talk the problem out, unraveling the issue and ultimately ending up with you nuzzled into his side, your legs draped over his as he hugs you tightly, smoothing his hand up and down your back soothingly and kissing the top of your head lovingly, encouraging you to cry if you had to. “Just let it out, pet. S'okay– waterworks are necessary sometimes. Just let it all drain out, okay? M'here, darling, m'here.”
And he’s all warm and soft and strong– he’d put out a strong front for you to lean on until you’re okay again, but there’d be times when he, too, would need to let out all of the pent up emotions. Sometimes it’d be in the form of silent tears with a red nose and lots of sniffling bc he doesn’t want to break down completely, and sometimes it’d be full on sobbing bc he’d need to deflate entirely in order to get back up, his breathing rattling and his shoulders jolting uncontrollably, low chokes of whimpers bursting from his mouth and you’d kiss his wet cheeks and eyelids and comfort him just as he does to you.
And then there’s the fights that aren’t as serious as they look. Fights that generate from days to weeks of bottled up stress from both of you and they’d eventually break out from no where. It could be something as simple as him walking into the house tracking muddy shoes across the wooden floor and you’d explode. Worst case scenarios with these types of fights would be him walking out on you for the night, crashing somewhere else to allow both of you to simmer down. But most times, he’d end up storming into your shared bedroom, grabbing some pillows and a blanket and stalking back out to the living room, declaring that he’d be sleeping on the couch for the night. He’d do this bc he wants to show either of two things, depending on the fight: if the fight is in between the mild to severe range, he’d do it bc he wants to show he’s still himself– that he still loves you and wants you to be more comfortable while thinking the whole thing over; that he would still sacrifice himself for you to get the space you need. Then there’s the other, which would be when the fight is overly severe (where it’s just pure anger and chaos with hoarse screaming and stomping and flaying arms), he would do it to brag and show that he’s the bigger person– the tougher fighter. That he can take the heat and then some.
These severe fights would be called “frus fights,” short for “frustration,” meaning it’s out of pent up shit that came out due to tiredness and the need to let out steam. It’d end up with you guys separated from each other and you’re fuming and gritting you’re teeth, wanting to punch a wall bc Harry can be so fucking impossible sometimes.
So you guys would go to bed on opposite sides of the apartment and around 2 or 3 A.M, you’d get a text on your phone from Harry. It’d be the two simple words: “Frus fight?”
Here, he’d be telling you that he acknowledges the fact that the fight was do to frustration and he’d be asking you if you thought the same thing. You’d sigh in relief, typing back, “Frus fight.”
And then you’d bite you’re bottom lip, trying to suppress a grin bc, simply stated, frus fights = rough makeup sex. You guys had established that in the beginning of your relationship. Easy as that.
“You coming to bed?” you’re fingers would hover over the keyboard as you see that he has read it and you can hear his bare feet padding across the ground outside your room as he heads towards it.
The door creaks open and you quickly flip onto your stomach, making sure he has a proper view of your bare legs since you’re wearing one of his t-shirts bc even when you fight, you want to be close to him somehow.
Harry squeezes through the door, eyeing you with a cocky smile but you can’t see it bc you’re hiding your face into your forearm, liking the suspense. He saunters over to you and you feel the bed dip as he gets onto it on his knees and crawls over to you, sliding his arms up the mattress and under your body, hugging you to the front of his as he lays over you. And he kisses up your spine, moving your hair out of the way to trail up your neck, his hands beginning to grope your hips more harshly.
He’s right at your left ear now, blowing softly as he shifts against your back, rubbing his semi-hard against your backside subtlety. His voice is a low and throaty whisper, thick and croaky because of the screaming from hours prior. It’s teasing. “You gon’ apologize, minx?”
And you bite into your bottom lip, swiveling your ass slightly against his bulge. “Nope. Aren’t you?”
And you can feel his almost predatory grin against your hot, dampening skin. “You’re going to have to pry it from my cold, post-orgasmic-weakened hands.”
“The usual?” The rule is that the person who comes first is the one that has to apologize first.
And before you know it, he’s flipping you onto your back, shoving his hands down your panties and roughly pinching at your clit, his lips claiming your neck as your whole body arches against his flexing arm and you’re already pooling into his hand, aching for him to fill you up.
And when he does, it’s quick and harsh– full of slamming, scratching, bruises and biting. He has your legs thrown over either sides of his hips and he’s fucking into you fast, rolling the swollen nub in between his index finger and thumb while the other is snaked around your back to keep you steady against him. Your arms are wrapped around his broad shoulders so your hanging off of him, body jolting as he fucks up into you, grunting and sighing spastically. And he suddenly releases you, shoving you flat onto your back and he grabs your hips, working them against his own with so much raw power that you can practically feel him in your stomach.
He’s sweaty and red-skinned, growling out his noises of pleasure. “Gonna give up? Y'won’t last much longer, baby. Can feel you clenching around my cock. You wanna come, don’t you?”
He slams his forearms down on either side of your head, sifting his fingers through yours and crossing your arms over your head as he keeps ramming into you, your clit catching on his pelvic bone and the intensity of your screaming is starting to hurt your head.
“Come for me. Know you can be a good girl for me. Just let it out, moppet.” He’s licking and nibbling down your jaw and across the area of your collarbones and every thrust he gives is syncopated with his breathing. Inhale, push in; exhale, draw out.
You’re a gasping, clawing mess but you’ll be damned if you give in first. “Over my d-dead body– oh!”
And he just chuckles darkly, burying one hand in your hair and tugging roughly, picking up speed, his thighs slapping against yours and he’s biting into your lips, his spastic breathes filling your mouth along with his tongue and his face is scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners as he hold himself from spilling inside you.
He bites into your shoulder, leaving purple marks as a reminder. And you’re writhing and bucking up against him, legs locked around his lower hips as he fucks you into the mattress, the whole bed creaking. He grabs the hair at the crown of your head, leveling his face with yours and his eyes are parallel with yours, sparking with an ominous dominance that you crave so bad.
He doesn’t liven up his thrusting, but pushes in harder, your noses nudging and swollen lips brushing and he keeps close eye contact with you, striping you of your determination. His voice is quiet and soft, but heavy with assertion. “You’re going to come and you’re going to do it now.”
He releases your wrists, the hand in your hair staying in place and the other wraps loosely around your throat, applying enough pressure that it gives your body an adrenaline boost. His thumb presses into the side of your jaw while his index and middle press into the opposite side, keeping you from turning your head away as he establishes his hold over you, physically and emotionally. You bask in it, loving every second of it. You can’t hold up anymore bc his cock his brushing the perfect angle and he has an arrogant smirk twitching the corners of his lips as he licks them lightly, curls falling across his sweaty forehead as he presses the side of his face against yours, his lips ghosting over the crest of your left ear again.
“You’re gonna come, aren’t you, doll? Can feel you squeezing– such a tight little thing you are for me, hm? Daddy’s naughty baby girl, picking a fight you couldn’t even hold your own against ‘cause you knew I was right. And now, you’re gonna be begging for so much more than just my forgiveness.”
You gasp out, digging your nails into the flexing muscles of his back as he gives a short, hard thrust, not drawing out but staying in up to the hilt to where you can feel his warm balls pressed against your ass. The only sound is both of your labored breathing, Harry kissing his way down your cheekbone and to your chin, his eyes taunting as the hand in your hair gives a demanding twist.
His cockhead is wedged against your g-spot and you’re melting into his arms, body jerking without consent as he dangles you over the edge. “You gonna give it up?”
“No.” Your voice is weak and strained.
And you feel him shifting onto his knees, preparing for the winning blow. “S'a shame. Was gonna lick you clean as a reward, but I guess not.”
He suddenly draws out and rams back in and you feel something inside you snap– he feels it too as your whole body tightens against him. And he takes this advantage, picking up where he had left off and finishing you off ruthlessly. You come hard, gushing out over him shamefully and going limp in his grip and he hums out a laugh, shaking his head with fake pity and tutting. “That was too easy, kitten. Too easy.”
You’re sobbing in sensitivity as he keeps rocking into you gently, milking the orgasm out for everything it’s worth, giving butterfly kisses to the racing pulse in your neck as you convulse under him. “Tha’s a good girl. Every last drop for me, alright?”
And when you finally finish, feeling empty and depleted, he cradles you into his side, kissing your temple and pressing his nose to the side of your head, clearing his throat playfully and arching an eyebrow expectantly.
“I’m sorry,” you huff, swallowing thickly and closing your eyes in fatigue.
“Apology accepted, petal.” He hugs you tightly, kissing across your nose and cheeks. “I’m sorry, too.”
A second passes by and then he speaks up shyly, “Do you think you could finish me off? It’s hurting something awful.”