platonic larry

  • me: *hears a good new song*
  • my brain: associate it with ur otp
  • me: why
  • my brain: you gotta
#205 - For anonymous x2

Filling the prompts “a fic with a kind of flawed Van that the reader loves anyway. I don’t really care what direction you go in, doesn’t even have to be the romantic kind of love, just something that kinda says ‘It’s okay to be flawed. Doesn’t make people love you less.’” and “a fic about the reader and van having very different music tastes and they’re tryna get each other to listen to their fave artists but they just can’t help but dislike it. Kinda cute/comical 'arguments’.”

Van reached out for the stereo again and again, and you kept hitting his hand away.

“Van! Fuck off!”

“This is the absolute worst thing I’ve ever heard in my entire fuckin’ life,” he laughed. A hyperbole if you’d ever heard one. “Why do you even like this?”

“I cannot even tell you how wrong you are. Like, Kendrick is a genius. Humble is genius,”

“Genius?!” Van repeated, his voice going all high pitched. He shuffled in the front seat of the car. Your hands tightened on the wheel in anticipation. “I’ll tell you about genius-”

“I swear to fucking God, Van, if you bring up Mike Skinner-”

“Mike Skinner writes poetry, Y/N! Poetry!”

“Poetry? See I reckon you’re about an 8 or a 9, maybe even 9 and a half in four beers time. That blue Topshop top you’ve got on is nice. Bit too much fake tan though, but yeah, you score high. Van! Ryan! Ryan Evan McCann. You cannot sit in my car and tell me that is poetry. You are fucking mental.”

Van laughed, his head going back and his little vampire teeth on display.

“People can’t be genius all the time! You aren’t perfect all the time,” he argued.

“Um… I am… Completely… I’ve never done a thing wrong in my life,”

“Right. Right. I forgot that you’re God’s gift. Sorry. My mistake,” he said, grinning. He started to look through his pockets for his lighter.

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anonymous asked:

honestly louis's fist and knuckles resting gently above harry's is probably the least totally platonic thing that and most domestic thing that could ever exist especially considering harry didnt tag lou in it cuz they were tryinna be discreet. why do people even doubt this ship like wyd

Listen I could sit her all day making a masterpost of how Louis and Harry are the least platonic people I have ever seen in my life. It wasn’t even a slow burn. It was like 


“Lemme get in yo arms!”

Needing You More and More, Let’s Give Love A Try by supernope

Length: 33k

‘Do not get hard, do not get hard,’ Harry chants in his head. It’s working, but Harry still breathes a silent sigh of relief when Louis lets go of his wrists and clambers off of him. He doesn’t move for a moment, just watches Louis fuss nervously with his fringe before saying, “Why don’t we go walk off breakfast?”

Harry only hesitates for a second, then nods. He gets to his feet with a quiet, “Be right back,” and heads back to his bedroom to get dressed. Once safely enclosed in his room, Harry glares down at his belly and scolds, “It’s bad enough that you’re messing with my body temperature, do you have to mess with those hormones, too?”

There’s no answer from the baby, but Harry takes that as surrender. Pausing by his bed, Harry takes a second to shake off the residual, lingering embers of arousal before choosing an outfit for the walk. He’s already pregnant with a stranger’s baby, the last thing he needs right now is to be lusting after his best friend.

[OR when Harry gets pregnant after a one night stand, Louis helps him get everything together, from buying pregnancy clothes to taking him on a babymoon. Somewhere along the way, they realize that their feelings for each other are more than platonic.]

Ao3, Oneshot, Mustread

anonymous asked:

What's your fave jealous moment? Ziam and Larry

Thanks for the great question! There are so many so I will do each boy separately.

I’d say it’s a tie between these two for jealous Zaynie

But this is an honourable mention:

As is Vegas 2012, because no platonic dude-bro-pal gets pissed like Zayn did when your homie’s girl comes to town, and no dude-bro-pal reacts like Liam did to being ignored all night, while the rest of the squad laugh at your obvious non-platonic response.

For jealous Liam, that’s easy, the Zarry candy-thong incident:

But this is an honourable mention for both Liam and Louis, from the same concert as the candy thong incident:

Louis is the sassmaster from Doncaster, and I LOVE when he sasses through a look, so there is TONS of jealous Louis that I enjoy, but my fave is probably when he pushed Swifty off the dance floor

Young Harry was not subtle in ANY WAY, so the early days contain my fave jealous Harry moments, with this probably being my fave

But these are all pretty iconic 

#185 - For anonymous

Filling the prompt “a fic about the reader having social anxiety and having a breakdown/panick attack while being at one of catfish’s shows and van notices while he’s on stage and some how managed to comfort you after the show.”

It was meant to be the best moment of your life. A couple of hours where all the bad of the world was left outside and you could subsist as a creature that existed only to listen to Catfish and the Bottlemen live. You could leave your fears and anxiety at the door and melt into the crowd. Each person one and the same as the next. But, isn’t reality a nasty little thing? Doesn’t he hear your midnight dreams and sunshine fantasies and smirk? He clicks his tongue and sets his mind on ensuring none of those things come true. 

As the crowd became more and more excited, their movement became erratic. Although you were not being physically crushed, your lungs still refused to fill with air. You couldn’t focus on the band, instead a voice in your head was louder than Van’s. It was screaming, screeching. You’re trapped. You can’t escape. You looked around. The voice was right. If something happened, how could you get out? Jump the barrier? You didn’t have the physical capability to achieve that. Maybe you should have brought a friend. They would see your panic attack and know what to do. Instead, you were alone, and the girls either side of you thought your shaking hands and breathlessness was because of the proximity of Van’s swinging hips.

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The Eye of the Beholder


Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, anxiety, facial dysmorphia, potential body horror? (Just a description of Sal’s disfiguration and some of the medical procedures and reconstruction), mutual pining, first person perspective, PTSD.

This is just a drabble I wrote last night based on some headcanons and ideas that have been building up for me. I’m also welcome to critique and feedback! This is likely a WIP and I’ll probably add to it and delete this original post later to repost the new versions as I go along, but we’ll see. Enjoy! 🖤


I stare blankly into the mirror in Larry’s bathroom, lost in my own reflection. This happened often, I’d lose track of time, gaping at the glass as I searched over and over for anything left behind from before the incident. Wishing I could find anything to remind me of how I used to look. I’d forgotten my own face not long after I’d lost it.

I’m ripped from my trance as a knock sounds at the door “Sal? You still alive in there buddy? It’s been like 20 minutes.” Larry’s familiar voice almost immediately soothed my nerves, easing the lump of anxiety I’d felt rising in my chest. “Yeah uhm…I’ll be right out.” I fasten my prosthetic back into place and come out, sighing softly and attempting to appear as calm as ever. Despite having no way of seeing my expression, Larry always saw right through my facade, he could read my body language like a book. “You look on edge, you sure you’re alright?” I try to nod silently but make a resigned grunt instead before speaking, “Honestly, not exactly. Had a small identity crisis in the mirror again-”

Larry pulls a sympathetic face and pats the spot next to him on the couch. Lisa wasn’t home at the time, so we felt more comfortable being in the living area than normal, “You wanna talk about it?”

I nod and take a seat.

I’m not usually so open but something about Larry’s presence was comforting in and of itself, allowing me to actually be trusting for once. “I made the mistake of removing my prosthetic and I got lost staring at myself again. It feels like I’m looking at a stranger, but I also don’t even remember well enough what I looked like before aside from the few pictures we had of me back then. It’s like the trauma wiped my ability to recognize myself.”

Larry nods silently, simply listening to me without judgement or pressure. “I can’t imagine how that feels, but I’m sure it’s really confusing and frustrating.”

“You have no idea man, it’s the strangest thing.” I pause, mind suddenly going off track as I realize that my best friend has never gotten to see my face in all the time we’ve known each other. We drift into a comfortable silence as I continue to think, and Larry watches me in mild confusion, but waits patiently. Moments pass that feel like hours before I speak “You’ve never seen my face.” I blurt awkwardly, mouth running without my consent.

Larry’s eyes widen for a moment before returning to normal “I…yeah I haven’t. I figured we’d get to that when you’re comfortable. There’s no rush.”

“Do you want to see my face, Larry? It’s not like I don’t trust you at this point.” Larry blinks, seeming slightly taken aback “If you’re ready to show me, I’d love to see what my best friend looks like, yes.”

I bite my lip behind my prosthetic, mustering the nerve to actually go through with showing him. I remind myself that he wouldn’t be like the others, he would never belittle me. “Just a second.” I turn away from him and start unfastening the straps, taking a deep breath to steel myself. “Take your time, Sal. Whenever you’re ready-” I smile softly to myself, slipping my prosthetic away and placing it on the table next to the couch. “Just…don’t freak out.”

“Aw cmon Sal, you know better.” He was right, I did. I slowly face him, watching his expression shift through emotions as he takes in the details of my face, compassion, sadness, pain (he probably was imagining the attack as I’d described it). His gaze roves from my eyes to my mouth, where the deep pit of a scar on my left cheek reveals a hole in my face that had never healed properly, my canines exposed if you looked closely enough. His eyes then shifted to take in the rest, my poorly reconstructed nose, my taut and stretched eyelids, the teeth marks and shredded scars, traces of skin grafts covering every inch of my visage. There wasn’t a trace of pity in his expression, and for that I was thankful.

Then he surprised me, and smiled. “So this is the real you, Sally Face.” In my shock, I could feel myself blink back tears. Larry’s brow furrows in concern immediately “What’s wrong?” I laugh quietly and shake my head “These are tears of relief, Larry.” I wipe at my eyes with my sleeve, smiling at him. There was a look on his face I’d never seen before, a soft and compassionate smirk. “You have a nice smile, you know? I’m glad to know what it looks like finally.”

“Oh don’t patronize me now Larry, I look like one of those toddlers that’s shoved their face into spaghetti-” he looks mildly offended, “I’m serious. It’s a genuine and sweet smile.” I roll my eyes “If you insist, Larry Face.” I reach for my prosthetic and Larry looks disappointed “Uh, if you don’t mind, could you keep it off a bit longer? I understand if not. It’s just nice to see your expressions-” I stare at him, so he really was serious, wasn’t he? “Sure, I suppose.”

He cracks a wide smile “You know, you should let me paint you sometime. The you behind the prosthetic.” I raise an eyebrow at him quizzically “This grotesque mug?” He looks offended again, “You’re too hard on yourself about it. I think you see it as worse than it is because of the things people have said to you.”

Ouch. That one hit the nail on the head.

“You’re…probably right, but it’s something I do to cope, I guess.” He nudges my side with his elbow “I guess that means I need to start loading you with compliments to make up for the damage they caused then, huh? And not just fake pity compliments either. I’m not about that, it’s gotta be authentic.”

“Why are you so nice to me, dude?”

“I figured it’s about time someone was.”

I shake my head with a small smile, leaning my head against his shoulder “That’s cheesy. You’re a dweeb.”

“You know it, Sally Face.”


Larry had the most fascinating expressions when he was drawing, and he had uniquely handsome features. Not in the conventional sense, he had a long pointed nose, eyebrows that were bit too thick by most people’s standards, and his hair was rarely clean; yet he also had a sharp jawline and broad shoulders atop his thin frame, his skin dusted in freckles and beauty marks, including the darkest one under his right eye. To me, he was just gorgeous, and even if he never washed his hair, I wanted to tangle my fingers in it and never let go. I was always zoning out and staring at him while he was sketching something across the room, hair falling into his face. I had no idea what he was drawing, but occasionally he’d glance up at me and I would quickly avert my eyes, as if that weren’t just as obvious as my gawking.

Real subtle, Sal.

I had realized not long after showing him my face weeks before, it was unavoidable at this point. I had a huge crush on my best friend. My best friend who was, presumably, not into guys. What a mess.

Part of me wanted to tell him because I knew he wouldn’t be grossed out or hate me, but there was still a chance it would change things, that we’d become distant. What if he didn’t want me to stay over as much? What if he was grossed out by it but would be too nice to tell me so? What if I’m just freaking myself out over nothing? The latter is the most likely, but that doesn’t make it any easier to form the words, ‘Hey man, I’ve been thinking about kissing you a lot lately.’ Or ‘Hey man, I’d really fucking love to fall asleep in your arms instead of just lying next to you.’

When did this attraction even start? It’s not exactly shocking but damn.

I sigh, the sound drowned out by the sound of ‘Singular’ by Sanity’s Fall playing loudly. I wish it could drown out my thoughts and help me think about anything else. Lately these thoughts would always flood my mind around him. It was becoming overwhelming and I knew if I couldn’t figure out how to say it soon to get closure, I’d explode. I gnaw my lip and stare over at my prosthetic, lying on Larry’s dresser.

Fuck it.

I reach over and turn down the music, causing Larry to look up at me. “Something up? You seem like you’re a million miles away right now.”

“I have something to tell you. It’s not easy to say either, but if I don’t say it soon I’ll snap.” He blinks and closes his sketchbook, giving me his undivided attention. “Go for it.”

I bite my lip again and search for the words, picking at the fray in the knee of my jeans. “I hope this doesn’t make anything weird, but I think I might-…” I drift off, words catching in my throat, “-no, there’s no might about it, I have more than platonic feelings for you Larry. God I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable or that it doesn’t change anything, and I understand if you don’t feel the same at all. I just needed to get it off my chest, honestly…” I stare at my hands, afraid to look at him. The silence hangs in the air like smog, and I can hardly breathe. Just as I think I’ll crumble under the tension, he speaks, “Why would that change anything or make me uncomfortable, Sal?”

My gaze lifts and I finally see his face. Once again he surprises me by smiling, “You’re still my best friend. Maybe I’ll need time to process this new info and determine how I feel, but I promise you that it won’t change anything for the worse.” And once again, I find myself blinking back tears of relief, only this time I can’t hold them back. Tears roll down my cheeks and I choke out a single laugh, the sound catching in my throat from my shortness of breath.

“You know Sal, you’re not the only one questioning our relationship here. I haven’t been sure and I’m still confused, but I-… hell I don’t even know myself, really. All I know is sometimes I think things that aren’t normal to think of someone who’s just your friend.”

I stare at him, mouth slightly agape, “Like what?”

He glances away nervously and runs a hand through his hair, “Things like, wanting to hold your hand, or hug you for longer than usual…and kind of wanting to kiss you.”

His voice grew so quiet near the end that I was almost convinced I’d misheard him, but no. He had really been thinking the same sort of things I had. Before I could stop myself the words left my mouth, “Me too.”

We exchange a look in silence, the ten or so feet between us seeming to close in as we hold eye contact for much longer than normal. He stands slowly and sets his sketchbook aside, hands shaking ever so slightly, the only sign of his nervousness. My eyes track him as he hesitantly crosses the room before looming over me.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks quietly, the words coming out as barely more than a whisper. I’d never seen him so timid. When I finally process his question my face heats and I nod, muttering softly, “Yes.”

Both of us lean in slowly, each second seeming to drag on forever before our lips finally connect. The kiss is brief and innocent, lips pressed together for just a moment, yet when we withdrew from it we both were glowing red and staring at each other silently. I wonder if he can hear my heart drumming against my ribcage, but find that I don’t care. We both smile sheepishly and laugh as I hide my face in my hands and he sets his hands on my shoulders gently, “For now, we’ll just take our time to figure out how we feel before we rush in any further, sound alright?” I look out from behind my hands and nod, unable to stop smiling.


I had finally agreed to let him paint me. After weeks of Larry occasionally pestering me about it, I begrudgingly decided to let him. I didn’t really think I was anything worth painting, but he had told me that was just what I’d been conditioned to think of myself by the bullies.

I’m now sitting with Larry in his room, relaxing on his bed as usual while he sits across from me and sketches the layout of his painting, looking between me and the page every few moments. The silence starts to bother me, so I speak, trying my best to not move, “Why is it you want to paint me so badly?”

He smiles, looking down at his work, “Glad you asked. See, I think you represent a special kind of beauty.” I stare at him, expression blank, “I mean it. To me you’re pretty because you’re just Sal. If I must, I could even list things about you that are physically beautiful.” I snort quietly, nearly rolling my eyes but deciding against it, “Try me.”

He looks up at me and meets my eyes, “Your hair is pretty and soft, your eyes are the most stunning blue, the crinkles in the corners of your eyes when you smile are precious and I can even see them when you wear your prosthetic. Before you stopped wearing it all the time that’s the only way I could tell you were smiling. You have delicate hands, and a cute frame, I could keep going if you need me too-” I realize as he’s speaking that my face feels warm and he laughs, “Don’t look so surprised Sal. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It’s all subjective. Like a work of art, and that’s why I think you’re a perfect subject to paint.”

I stare at him wordlessly and without thinking I shift to lean over and kiss his cheek before returning to my former position. “Thank you, it means so much coming from you.” His cheeks flush ever so slightly and he returns to sketching with a smile, both of us sitting in almost silence once again as we listen to the music playing quietly from across the room. Lisa was home, so we kept it down.

As if on queue when I thought of her, Lisa knocks and pokes her head into the room, glancing between us and at Larry’s sketch. A soft smile crosses her lips as she speaks, “Dinner’s ready if you boys are hungry, not to interrupt your artistic flow, Hon.”

“Thanks, mom.” We both answer simultaneously. She laughs and steps back out. I’d accidentally referred to her as mom once and it had just stuck. I had a sinking suspicion she knew about the recently changed nature of our relationship, but if so she didn’t seem to mind at all. Larry and I had discussed how to tell her properly, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

“We should tell her tonight.” I say as Larry makes finishing touches on the sketch, so we could take a dinner break, “I mean, what better time to bring it up than over a meal?” He nods agreeably and closes his sketchbook, “Alright. I think we’re ready for that. It’s not like she’ll have a problem with it. Mom’s told me about her past girlfriends from her school days.” I raise my eyebrows and smirk, “Oh?? So you’re mom’s not just into guys? The more ya know, I guess.”

We make our way out to the living room. We usually would eat in there over the coffee table. Somehow it made the atmosphere of meals more relaxed, and I feel my slight nerves about telling her calm down. We take our seats on the couch, each picking our plates up from the table and thanking Lisa before we start to eat.

After a few minutes of small talk and silent eating, Larry clears his throat and sets his fork down, “So, Mom, I-…we have something to tell you.” She smiles knowingly but only says, “Oh? What’s that?”

“Sal is…kind of my boyfriend now.” Lisa smirks and chuckles to herself, “Henry owes me 10 bucks. He thought it would be a few more months before you told one of us.” I choke on a bite of chicken, laughing when I recover, “You and dad placed bets on this???” She snorts, “Sal sweetheart it’s been obvious for a while now.” I resist the urge to hide my face in my hands and Larry groans, “Mom what the hell.” She laughs again before sighing happily, “In all seriousness though, I’m happy for you two and I support you to the ends of the earth. You’re good for each other. Sal is one of the best additions to the family I could hope for, and if you’re happy I’m happy, son.” She and Larry exchange a loving look before she turns to me, “Just take care of my boy, Sally.” I smile and nod, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

anonymous asked:

Yeah, yeah, yeah, make fun of my suffering 😝😝😝 the way Harry looked at Louis when he was younger was the definition of "heart in my eyes", it's the sort of stuff that makes you go all aw!! I haven't read it! Care to share a link?


Originally posted by 1dlarryluv


Originally posted by theharrystylesfanpage


Originally posted by castiels-little-bastard

i know

Originally posted by roseanddagger28


Originally posted by sweetheartlouie

definition of

Originally posted by tbhstylinsonaf

heart eyes

Originally posted by elarryphant

*dreamy sigh*

You can read TIF here, just have to join the LJ comm to do it. There are PDFs floating around but given the warnings in the comm I don’t want to post a link. Message me off anon or anon msg me your email and I’ll send it. Definitely worth it. Top ten best fics of all time, any fandom, stayed up till 4 in the morning multiple nights in a row, laughed, cried, fell in love a little bit. It’s AMAZING.


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#that is not platonic (Larry Stylinson edition)

you know the saying, “fetus first” no that’s not a saying but shhh you will ruin the illusion

THE VERY FIRST MOMENT…. Look at the other boys and look at Harry and Louis, I want to know what the hell happened in the bathroom that Louis’ first instinct is “let me jump into your arms”

moving on…

if you say they weren’t going to kiss you are lying to yourself

ahh yes every time i touch my friend’s hands I have to look away and smirk too…

just couldn’t hold it in could ya Lou.

Also something I wont put the picture for because it’s childporn seeing as Harry was 16 at the time, Louis was sent Home for a week and Harry got a nude leaked I’m not saying it was for Louis,but im saying it was for Louis. Lets speak hypothetically,no this happened im telling you this is the truth if it indeed was intended for Louis, i would not send my best friend a nude picture because umm that is over stepping the friendship line…

look straight into your best friends eyes while discussing bedroom kink.. its a thing if not,then I must talk to Jamie about our relationship

just bury your nose into his shoulder while squeezing him tightly, that’s a friendship hug..

friends get jealous of other friends feeding said friend and then smack the food out of the friend doing the feeding’s utensil

I tell my friends that I’m going to marry them all the time

taking this tip from Louis and Harry, play-fighting with the buds is going to get way more interesting

the early days of compass and ship..


that concludes fetus boyfriends not being platonic

now… *drumroll please*


as Harry and Louis harmonize in WDWGT on MM, “lets take a ride”

yup I always reach for my friend’s hands before realizing I cant hold them

oooh it happened again that hurts my heart

We always re-enact grease choreography too (Harry is Sandy)

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firm hand on the ass ought to do it

I always whisper into Jamie’s mouth,always…

Harry let me whisper dirty things to give you a boner Styles…

Harry what do you mean ‘personal space’ Styles

seriously whispering can have its own section but i digress

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T SING  ROCK FUCK ME TO YOUR FRIENDS??Looks Like I have to talk to Jamie about us.

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I literally have nothing to say


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I need to pour gasoline on my eyes….  No, but in all honesty this is not how you look at a best friend or a friend with benefits or a one-night stand… This is how you look at someone you love,and if you do look at your best friend with variations of the same loving gaze; i ship you two. The world stops for these two because all Louis sees is Harry and all Harry sees is Louis,and its been like this for almost four years,and if you cant see that you don’t know what love is. you may think you know what love is but you don’t. some people wait forever for someone to look at them with such pure love and adoration and Harry got that when he was 16….

okey dokey sorry for those emotions that poured out of me….

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that is probably you but I’m not finished fuckers shippers


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yes, just adjust your dick whilst you and your platonic pal are staring at each other


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Louis leads leeds fest makes me die when I think of it,harry follows

so in conclusion,

after all

and a compass and an anchor and a rope…

and two other birds of different sizes with eyebrows…..

This masterpost proves that Louis William Tomlinson and Harry Edward Styles are straight,platonic buddies…

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  • guys: *look at each other*
  • guys: NO HOMO
  • guys: *hug*
  • guys: NO HOMO
  • guys: *kiss on the cheek*
  • guys: NO HOMO BRO
  • guys: *make out*
  • guys: NO HOMO LMAO
  • guys: *have buttsex*

anonymous asked:

the gif where Harry was allowed to shake Louis hand because the guy (assuming management) in the audience said he could, do you know what was going on with Louis? it looks like he's crying..???

During TMH at the Denmark show (5th May 2013) they had Twitter questions and Harry and Louis went up against each other to see who could hold their breath the longest. Harry won. Louius pretend-cried. Management let H shake L’s hand.

Here is the video, it gives you a better understanding.

The comments are so telling :(

smollove  asked:

So I ship Larry and I'm not like a larrie but I ship ziam and want to be fully convinced so can you link me your master post? Sorry if this is annoying 😊

So, I decided to have fun with this instead of just linking you to my “A Beginner’s Guide to 1D” post like I usually do. If this post doesn’t get you anywhere I suggest you read through all of that.

Here is a compilation of Larry moments that are equivalent to Ziam moments or even lesser than Ziam moments but are still overlooked…

Keep reading