Harry Styles’ new album is going to be earth-shattering. Harry is a perfectionist as we all know. He would never settle for less than a completely new innovation. He is honing his skills as a musician in order to be able to produce something beyond expectations. Judging from his widely varied collaborators, this album may very well define what music in this new century should sound like.
Harry Styles’ new album is going to shock the world. That is what fans need to hear. This album is going to be better than what music fans have become all too accustomed to. This isn’t some prefabricated formula for songwriting. It isn’t going to be something five young boys had to rush through with three months to write and record. Harry is stepping as far away from that kind of writing as possible to give fans the music they deserve.
<b>Newt:</b> I made this case so all my animals could live in a welcoming environment for them!<p/><b>Ravenclaw:</b> Wow this is some advanced magic, how did you do it? Did it take a while?<p/><b>Newt:</b> No it didn't take very long.<p/><b>Ravenclaw:</b> And everything is segmented into different weather for each species with enough space for them to roam if need be. That's amazing. Could you show me how you did it?<p/><b>Newt:</b> *shrugs* The animals needed it.<p/><b>Ravenclaw:</b> Right, but the magic you used...<p/><b>Newt:</b> *slight pause* The animals needed it.<p/><b>Ravenclaw:</b> Right, but it must have been difficult.<p/><b>Newt:</b> The animals-<p/><b>Ravenclaw:</b> Nevermind.<p/></p>
its weird having symptoms that seemingly contradict at first. like i really rarely have interest in other people’s lives and i’m just not able to care about them much, but at the same time, i still desperately need their approval and am scared of what they think of me and what they might do behind my back.
it’s a lot more difficult to build relationships that you paradoxically need when you’re not naturally inclined to do the things that are considered the building blocks of them, (e.g, message people frequently, engage emotionally, etc)
PLEASE stop posting the white devil emma Watson. PLEASE. I will pay u. I will give u my first born child. Watson has made men a priority in feminism and rewards men for doing the bare minimum. Which is insulting to every gender. She's got some REAL messed up stuff going on.
Look, I’m all for calling out White Feminism at every turn, and I have, but SJblur nitpicking on every white feminist they see and when you start calling them the White Devil coz you don’t fully agree with or misunderstand them, you already lost the argument. She didn’t kill nobody, nor advocated violence on anyone, so take it down several notches.
first of, she’s a UN Goodwill Ambassador for UN Women. Her main job is to use her popularity to give speeches actual experts and professionals on gender equality wrote for her, because if these experts give the same speech, no one will pay attention; but if she does, people will. Same thing that other celebrities do who are tapped to be UN Ambassadors: Angelina Jolie on refugees, George Clooney on South Sudan, Leonardo di Caprio on Climate Change, etc.
No celebrity chosen as UN Goodwill Ambassador are chosen for their expertise in the field, they are chosen because when they speak people pay attention. Those truly invested in the cause will sit on meetings or go on the field when they’re not making a movie, but their role as spokeperson remains. Their words are not their words, most of the time they are basically the executive summaries of UN reports.
Emma Watson’s UN speech was criticized as feminism 101, and it was, but to expect she gives a graduate seminar on feminism with her limited speaking time is imo ludicrous. She’s paid very well but that’s still above her pay grade. The main purpose of her speech was to get attention from the public, generate political will from lawmakers, and fundraise a shit ton of money for the cause.
And via the HeForShe Campaign, she was able to do that very successfully. She got powerful men from President Barack Obama to the President of Seira Leonne to not just make a commitment to gender equality but have their governments actually invest in gender equality programs in their own countries and/or give more foreign aid to women’s empowerment programs.
Have we discussed this enough? probably i think not.
Tarjei’s acting is a true blessing and every new clip keeps proving that.
we got an entire season of his character, which was our chance to not only get to know Isak, but also kind of “value” Tarjei’s acting. When there’s such an important character with this incredibly significant story, choosing the right person is damn difficult. And then portraying this character, pouring your soul into acting and nailing it is even harder.
but Tarjei sandvik Moe did it.,
I could go on forever talking about how much of a great job he did in s3, but for now, i wanted to focus on this particular scene that you see in the gif above.
the fight scene
Not gonna lie, we didn’t see much of that. Julie left us with at least a thousand questions and even more theories to write. She decided not to reveal the mysterious reason yet and abandoned the fandom till the 22nd of May. So clearly the fight scene did nothing but completely messed up our heads without actually revealing stuff.
But then again, Tarjei’s acting said things that had a major effect on every one of us.
okay. rewatch the clip and listen. Yes, the blood and the bruises on his face look pretty realistic but you guys..Hemakes the pain so naturalistic that it’s almost scary.
Isak literally just looks at his bloody hand realizing why the pain had hit him with so much force, he doesn’t even scream or yell, he kind of quietly hums/moans to himself, though that’s completely enough to make US feel a thousand things at the same time. We look at his injured face and we nearly sense his agony. it’s like every time we hit repeat to watch the moment, we go through exactly what Isak had to experience. we instantly feel this special connection to him which makes all of us want to hug him, to comfort him. which makes us want to cuddle Isak Valtersen in our arms, treating him with mini burgers and cheese sandwiches with Kardamome on top.
and then you register…
that it’s Tarjei.
that he isn’t REALLY hurt. He isn’t letting out those voices and he isn’t looking traumatized because he is.
Anakin was born into slavery where he was quickly taught that life got better or worse based upon how much people thought you were worth. He claimed that he “wouldn’t have lasted so long if [he] wasn’t so good at fixing things.” He takes pride in this, because while he hates being a slave, at least he knows he’s valuable and safer as a result. He works hard and is talented. He knows it and he uses this knowledge as a weapon against the cruelties of life…including Sebulba.
As comfortable as Anakin is in that knowledge, he makes sure that everyone knows it. It needs to be known that he has worth. Thus, when Watto says that he “smashed up my pod in the last race,” Anakin is quick to point out that it wasn’t his fault and look what a good job I did. When Watto praises him, he calms down. He needed to hear that because he didn’t want Qui-Gon to lose interest in him because he isn’t useful anymore. He needs people to like him. When, you understand that this concept of economics, for lack of a better term, is what drives Anakin’s behavior, a lot of things make sense.
harrys girl who has a HELLA MAJOR PRAISE KINK!!!!!!! plz and thank uuu” Enjoy!
“Harry! I got a ninety-seven!” I heard Y/n squeal from the living room. “Way to go, babe!” I praise and quickly place the shirt i just folded into my drawer. I laugh to myself and make my way over to where she was. I turn the corner and see her standing in front of the coffee table with her phone in her hand, she had been refreshing her email all afternoon. She’d studied for thirteen hours straight prior to this exam so, one can only assume she wanted this very badly. Before she realizes i’m in the room, I scoop her up in my arms and spin her around.
“i’m so proud of you” I mutter, my face nuzzled between her neck and shoulder. She takes my face in her hands and looks me in the eyes. “Did I make daddy proud?” She squints at me. I throw my head back, laughing. Y/n giggles as I set her back down to stand on her own. She sits her phone down on the table before turning back to me.
“Of course you did, you’ve always been daddy’s little star.” I wink.
She raises an eyebrow and starts to play with the hair and the nape of my neck. My hand travels down from the middle of her back to lift up the hem of her shirt and gently run my nails against the skin of her hips. She hisses and touches her forehead to mine. “How come you never reward me, then?” she asks, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“A lip bite? Very original” I tease.
Y/n smirks and reaches her hand between our faces. She brushes her thumb over my lip “I could always bite yours, would that be more exciting?”
She ignited a fire in me with a single sentence. I sigh, not only because I felt myself getting harder by the second, but because she had made me feel like a teenager again. All she did was was ask me a risque question and i’m already as hard as a rock. Sadly, I can’t say this is the first time its happened. She glances up at me through her lashes and waits for my response. “Why don’t you help me find more ways to make you proud, yeah?” she suggests, gesturing for me to sit on the couch. I know where this is going. That particular look in her eyes is a look i’ve seen before. Pupils dilated, lips nice and wet, breath shallow.
She gets down on her knees in front of me and wastes no time dragging my sweatpants down. I’m not wearing boxers today, I figured we would get a little hot and bothered at some point today (it being our only free day this week, and all) and I wanted to make the process less tedious. I’m thanking myself a million times internally. I take my shirt off rather quickly, my eyes glued to her, anticipating her next move.
Y/n doesn’t bother pulling the trousers all the way off of my legs, she lets them pool at my feet. She takes my cock in her small hands kisses the tip, she lets some spit dribble out and onto the head before swiping over it with her thumb. The very same thumb she had used to toy with my lip not too long ago. I can’t stop the hiss that slips out, today is not a good day to prolong the foreplay. I very well might cum before the good stuff starts.
She takes notice of my sensitivity to her touch and cuts to the chase, lowering her mouth down on me. Her tongue laps at the veins of my shaft and she knows how to apply just the right amount of pressure with her teeth. I feel them graze me as she brings her head back up to my tip.
‘ah fuck..that’s good baby” I pant. She whimpers on me, her hand squeezing the base of me. She loves when I praise her….this could be fun. I decide to take it up a notch. What harm could a little more motivation do?
“shit baby i- mm fuck you take such good care of your man, don’t you?”
She nods lightly, my dick still lodged in her pretty mouth. I reach down and caress her cheek with my finger. “so fucking good, princess” I groan. She’s enjoying this. I can tell by how her eyes light up every time I speak. “You’re licking me with the same tongue you use to give th-those big speeches at school” I started, her eyebrows furrow. She has no clue where i’m going with this but continues to bob her head up and down.
“That mouth is pure gold in and outside of the bedroom….you please daddy in every single way” This seems to do it for her. She lifts her mouth off of me and stands up to take down her yoga pants.
“Come on” is all she spits out at me before walking towards the bedroom. I jump up, kicking my own pants off.
When i enter the room, I see her lying down on the bed, her panties around her ankles. She’s rubbing herself with one hand and beckoning me over to her with the other. I stride over to the bed, tugging at myself as I do so. “You getting ready fo’ me?” I ask her, she nods quickly. She seems so excited and i can’t hide the smile spreading across my face. I climb on the bed and toss her pink panties somewhere behind me, she doesn’t hesitate to open her legs up for me. Welcoming me in, inviting me.
I decide to skip the foreplay and get right to business. I run my swollen head up her slick folds, forcing an incredibly loud moan from her when I stop to tap on her clit with my member. I let out a breath I didn’t know i was holding when she pushes her shirt over her breasts and begins to knead at them. I line my tip up at her entrance and push in slowly, making sure she can feel my every ridge. She arches her back when I fill her completely, stretching her to no end.
“You’re taking daddy so well baby” I groan out. I lean down to suck on her neck. “K-keep talking, Harry” she pleads. I kiss my way up to her ear and nip at her lobe a bit, filling her to the peak with every stroke. “You always get so wet fo’ me” I slow down a bit, it appears that all this praise is starting to get to me as well. I sit back up and hike her knee up so I can thrust even deeper than before. This time, I can feel her walls squeezing me, I also feel myself pulsating inside her. I’m getting close.
“You’re gonna make me cum baby ahh…ooh yes” I hiss. My thrusts are noticeably unsteady at this point but i’m fighting it. I want to make sure she finishes first and judging by the way she’s clenching around me, she’s just as close as I am if not closer.
“fuck harry oh!….mmh please” her hands are scraping at my forearms that stand on either side of her head, making it harder for me to hold myself up. I place my hands on the head board and pull out of her almost completely before rolling my hips back in to meet hers. Again and again and again until I have her body trembling beneath mine. She’s begging me not to stop. She’s pleading for me to cum with her, and my body betrayed me by obeying her orders. The muscles in my abdomen tighten and I clench my jaw shut.
”cum for me ahhh….f-fuck that’s a good girl ”
I feel my toes curl as the white sensation builds up.
Then it hits me like a wave. “ooh Y/n fuck yes..fuck baby yess ahh” I cum in long, hot spurts with her still tightening around my cock. I kiss her slowly feeling my heart return to its natural rhythm. I lean up and move her hair from her face before dipping down to kiss her nose. “That was intense “ She laughed. I nod, still a bit winded. I pull out of her and grab one of the clean shirts from the pile I was folding earlier; I use it wipe us both clean. Thankfully, we didn’t soil the sheets this time so I happily climb under the covers and wait for her to do the same. She rests her head on my tattooed swallow and tangles her legs up with mine.
“All this because of a test, I wish you would score this high all the time” I tease.
“Yeah? Well I wish you would finish folding the laundry…” she snickered
Being a list of his oddities, which I am keeping for my own amusement, or possibly for blackmail. I will add to this whenever new proof comes along.
1. The Persian slipper. He keeps his tobacco in the toe of a slipper. Why? Does it tickle his sense of humor? Was it the nearest thing to hand? Does the tobacco not taste of feet, now?
2. The knife in the mantelpiece, which keeps his correspondence in place. I do not understand the purpose in stabbing one’s letters. It is neither picturesque nor practical, and it makes a series of holes in the mantel. It also makes the letters rather difficult to read.
3. The contradiction between his professed philosophy and his actual soul. He talks like an ascetic, and lives like a poet. He scolds me for sentimentality and praises the flowers. He calls my stories rubbish for their romanticism, then lets our suspect escape because he committed his crimes for love. He names his own body mere transport, claims to live wholly divorced from its sensations; yet he surrounds himself in music and incense and wine, and takes me to out to dinner at every possible excuse.
4. He once summoned me all the way across town to listen to his thoughts on the beautiful nature of dog-kind. He sent me a telegram. He said it was urgent.
5. He has the lashes of a society girl. A very lovely girl.
6. Also, he colours up like a girl when I praise him: turns pink as a peach. I praise him as often as I can manage it, for the entertainment.
7. He has the manners of a cat. He lays about about all evening, prowls about all night, and finally falls asleep in broad daylight, in odd places–curled up in the depths of his armchair, or stretched out on the sofa; once, atop my shoulder, in a railway car. I spent the better part of two hours with him snoring gently into my neck, trying my utmost not to laugh.
9. He is really quite discourteous to the Yard, who are actually useful to him; yet he is startlingly attentive to me, and has always been so, long before I became at all useful, or proved myself anything more than a broken-down reject of his Majesty’s service. He mocks my writing, but he treats me beautifully.
8. He takes no exercise whatsoever, despises fresh air and country holidays, and spends a quarter of his days full prone upon the sofa, thinking; yet he maintains a remarkable physique: slender, lean musculature capable of sudden power and startling grace; bright eyes, magnificent legs. He’s like a thoroughbred horse; his strength is in the bone of him. He’s–
[Here the numbered list breaks off abruptly. There is a single notation beneath this point, in the same pen, but notably shaky:]
What have I been thinking? How on earth have I allowed myself to get so far?
[No explanation of this extraordinary statement is offered.]
“Do you really think me ridiculous?”
“Holmes. Oh, Holmes, you did take it. You’ve had it this entire time?”
“What have you been doing with it all these weeks?…Never mind, I don’t want to know. Please give it to me.”
“Tell me what the last line means.”
“Nothing. It means nothing of any significance. Will you give it here?”
“It is impossible for it to mean nothing.”
“Nothing that need concern you, then.”
“Holmes. I can’t tell you.”
“Could you tell me if I held your hands? Like so? H’m, no, it appears that strikes you entirely speechless. What if I do this? Ah. Still speechless….Oh. Oh, you’re shaking. Are you angry? Have I offended you? Watson–I am sorry. I can leave.”
“Yes, I think you are ridiculous. And wondrous. You are wondrous.”
“Oh…That is acceptable.”
“Come here. You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“Pink as a peach. Absolutely beautiful.”
“For God’s sake!”
“Come here, and I’ll shut up.”
“What? Take your face out of my neck, I can’t hear you.”