#formed in 1976

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

U2 – Pride (In The Name Of Love)

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 228/?

Rainbow - Since You Been Gone (1979)

"So in the night I stand,

Beneath the backstreet light,

I read the words that you sent to me.

I could take the afternoon

But nighttime comes around too soon -

You can't know what you mean to me.

Your poison letter,

Your telegram,

Just goes to show you don't give a damn!"

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"...HE THINKS OF THE WOMEN HE HAS MET AMONG THE CIVILIZED PEOPLES..."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on a 2-page splash (plus its following panel) of Conan and his past female encounters in the Hyborian Age, from "Conan the Barbarian" Vol. 1 #61. April 1976.  The women are ( L to R):

Red Sonja, Jenna, Melissandra, Zatima, Amytis, and an un-named strawberry blonde (the "nameless shadow woman," perhaps?) at the bottom right.

Source: https://viewcomiconline.com/conan-the-barbarian-v1-061.

[bateauivree]

fucking insane that I have to read an article by Umberto Eco IN FRENCH just because every version in Italian costs money. FUCK YOU Corriere.it FUCK YOU Voce.it

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Scott Joplin - The Entertainer 1902

Scott Joplin (November 24, 1868 – April 1, 1917) was an American composer and pianist. Dubbed the "King of Ragtime", he composed more than 40 ragtime pieces, one ragtime ballet, and two operas. One of his first and most popular pieces, the "Maple Leaf Rag", became the genre's first and most influential hit, later being recognized as the quintessential rag. Joplin considered ragtime to be a form of classical music meant to be played in concert halls and largely disdained the performance of ragtime as honky tonk music most common in saloons. Treemonisha, his second opera, was produced in 1972 and in 1976 Joplin was awarded a Pulitzer Prize.

"The Entertainer" is a 1902 classic piano rag, first sold as sheet music by John Stark & Son of St. Louis, Missouri, and in the 1910s as piano rolls that would play on player pianos. The first recording was by blues and ragtime musicians the Blue Boys in 1928, played on mandolin and guitar. As one of the classics of ragtime, it returned to international prominence as part of the ragtime revival in the 1970s, when it was used as the theme music for the 1973 Oscar-winning film The Sting. Composer and pianist Marvin Hamlisch's adaptation reached number 3 on the Billboard pop chart and spent a week at number 1 on the easy listening chart in 1974. Thanks to the film and its score, Joplin's work became appreciated in both the popular and classical music worlds, becoming (in the words of music magazine Record World), the "classical phenomenon of the decade". The Recording Industry Association of America ranked it at number 10 on its "Songs of the Century" list.

"The Entertainer" received a total of 91,2% yes votes!

[moonchildstyles]

fender

it's 1976, and harry is the biggest rockstar in the world and y/n never thought she would have the chance to meet her idol. especially not like this.

wordcount: 12k+

—————

(Y/N) swore she could feel every note from the blaring speakers in her veins, her bones rattling from the base. Her skin was heated, a sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch. Bodies were packed all around her, dancing and jumping, hands in the air just as hers were. The bar of the barricade pressed heavily against her stomach, holding her back with a cool punch through her clothing. She'd never been to a concert by herself before, but she was finding she didn't mind the fact she was on her own, her dancing much more inhibited with her voice beginning to crackle from the sheer pitch of the screams she was letting out. 

Before her, up high on the stage with the bright lights cloaking his form, was her favorite rockstar. 

Harry Styles. 

In flared bell bottoms, and chest bare, he pranced across the stage, taking in every adoring eye trained on him. His trusted guitarist was shredding away on his neon orange Fender, taking care of the hard work so Harry could swagger about the stage with his microphone swinging in his hand. Sweat dripped down the blocks of his muscles, shimmering as if he had spread the glitter on his eyes over the rest of his body. His lips were curled in a lopsided smile, smug and cocky; he was more than aware of the fact that thousands had filled this arena just to see him. 

Another upside to having made it to this show by herself, (Y/N) didn't feel all that silly when she screamed that much louder when he strided over to her side of the stage. Dimples dented the rockstar's cheeks as he took in the adoration being flung at him from all sides. He scanned through the crowd, taking in every set of sparkling eyes and no doubt spotting every beautiful face that was more than willing to do just about anything for him. 

While this was the first time (Y/N) had the privilege of seeing Harry live (after having missed both his '73, and '75 tours, it seemed '76 was finally her year) it was no secret just how much love he liked to share with his fans. He never denied it in interviews and more than once photographs of women draped over him had come to light and landed on the front cover of tabloids, or anonymous sources sharing details of sordid nights in his bed. Whenever confronted with questions about those stories or who he was pictured with, he famously gave a dimpled smile and shrugged it of, saying something about how he fell in love easily and didn't shy away from the feeling. 

She wondered what she saw when he looked out at the huddles of people looking up at him tonight—if he saw someone he could fall in love with for the night. 

As the song continued on, it was time for his next verse though he didn't stray from this side of the stage. He brought the microphone to his lips, crooning his famous lyrics in perfect melody with the rest of his band. He put on a show where he stood as he sang a particularly suggestive line while trailing a hand down his bare stomach, hooking a finger into the waist of his pants to bring them down for a teasing peek of more skin before snapping back into place. 

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her lungs, immensely grateful for how close she'd made it to the stage. She wouldn't have been able to see the thatch of hair he revealed had she been any farther back. Screamed erupted around her, Harry seemingly liking the reaction so much he had to pull away from his microphone to let out a bubble of laughter. By the time he went back to doing his job, there was a particularly smug smile on his lips with matching dimples and amused eyes.

He continued to sing even as pairs of panties and lacy bras were thrown up to the stage, women screaming for his attention with their shirts pressed up to expose their chests. He weaved around the set up, playing with his bandmates to the excitement of his fans. He soaked it all in with exuberant confidence, shining under the stage lights and he put on his show. (Y/N) felt breathless as she sang along with him, her bones rattling as the pit danced around her, pushing her harder against the barricade at her stomach. 

By the time the final lines of the song came around, he had made his way back to (Y/N)'s side of the stage. She and the fans around her danced and sang along, her voice scratching in the back of her throat as she gazed up at him. The tune ended in a flourish of drum beats, heavy and bone rattling through the arena. 

Harry finished with phantom punches to the air in time with the drum beats just before the lights went down for a flickering moment. His chest was heaving by the time the lights came up once more, his band breaking to take sips of water, his guitarist changing out instruments for another, just as flashy, guitar. The spotlight was dead center on Harry, his eyes casting far out to the rest of the packed arena before him. (Y/N) went her mouth drop into a gape as she took in the man before her—no photograph able to do him justice. 

"Everyone still doing good? Having fun?" his voice boomed through the speakers, gesticulating with his hands as if he could reach to the back stretches of the venue. The arena erupted once more, pitched screams calling for his attention. He let out a breathy laugh into the microphone. "I'd hope so," he crooned, "because I'm having a wonderful time. So many pretty faces—thank y'for coming to see me tonight." 

He reveled under the cheers given to him, going quiet as he turned his gaze down, to the pit closest to him. 

To where (Y/N) was standing right in front of him. 

His eyes lingered over the rows behind her before coming closer, stopping a little too close for comfort. 

(Y/N) didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but was he looking at her?

"And what about right here?" he asked, bending down to one knee at the edge of the stage as if he wasn't close enough already, "Having fun?" 

Those around her burst into screams, pressing behind her as if they could surge through her and get closer to the rockstar. Her vision was vignetted with all the reaching hands attempting to touch him, fingers outstretched. (Y/N)'s reaction was stuck in her chest, her body stunned into paralysis with sweaty hands tightening around the barricade bar.

His only acknowledgment of the rest of the world came in the form of a quirked lip while his eyes stayed fixed to one spot. The longer she blinked up at him, no reaction, his smile grew, a brow lifting. 

Whatever view the rest of the venue was getting had another round of raucous reactions. 

Finally mustering enough wherewithal, (Y/N) nodded her head, her mouth still in a small gape. 

The quirk in his lips tilted that much more, a dimple settling in his cheek with a hint of the white of his teeth. "Yeah?" 

Though inaudible compared to the ruckus around her, she nodded her head with a parroted, "Yeah." 

His eyes lingered on her for a passing moment, the tip of his tongue peaking out to skim the blunt of his teeth. Around her, (Y/N) could feel the screams just as much as she heard them, the volume coasting over her skin and seeping through her pores.

"'M gonna make tonight the best night of your life, yeah?" he pressed, speaking directly to her though the world had their own view of the moment.

Another stunned wave touched (Y/N)'s bones, stuttering her lungs and knocking her breath askew. If she wasn't being delusional—something she couldn't be one hundred percent sure of—there was a chance Harry's eyes touched over the neckline of her top, following the line of her exposed skin. 

She gave him a small nod. 

He gave her another smile before rising to the full of his height once more, the stretch of his body on display. Waltzing over the stage, (Y/N) knew he was speaking, pointing out more in the crowd and doing what he did best by enchanting the masses and bending them to his will, though she didn't hear a word of it. 

The trail of his gaze left behind a warmth like he had touched her with his own hands, enough pressure lingering on her skin even when another song started up. 

Once the first verse of the song had played, (Y/N) felt her body come back to life slowly, the gravity of the moment beginning to turn into adrenaline. The man she had a hidden poster of had just made eye contact with her and told her he'd make her night special. Harry Styles had looked at her. 

Thank god she showed up early tonight. This barricade was now holy ground as far as she was concerned. 

Just as she began to sway along with the rest of the bodies around her, checking back into reality, the rockstar swaggered across the stage once more, taking his time to prowl before her. 

He looked out in the crowd, reaching far back before trailing closer to where she stood just in front of him once more. He shuttered a single eye in a wink to her with a stanza of particularly suggestive lyrics dripping from his lips.

This time she couldn't help the scream that bellowed from her lungs, only spurred on by the grin on his face.

—————

"See? If you ask nicely, y'get what y'want, don't you?" 

Harry's booming voice reawakened the arena. He was giving them the encore they had been begging him for once he exited the stage, the chants of his name being enough to have his band reenter with the rockstar himself following closely behind. (Y/N)'s heart thundered in her chest, cheers leaving her throat. 

Mourning the end of the show could wait another ten minutes. 

The opening notes of a new tune started, the shredding of the guitar screeching through the arena. (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of Harry as he pranced across the space, his jeans sitting low on his hips (at the right angle, she swore she saw a decidedly thick bulge at his crotch—more than just needing a readjustment).

(Y/N) only had a chance to hear the first few lines of the opening verse before a large man in all black came to block her view. If not for the fact she was currently—as promised—having the best night of her life, she would have thrown a fit. She instead attempted to crane her neck around this block and catch glimpses of Harry for the last few moments of the night.

"Sweetheart," he yelled against the bass coming from the speakers, "You're coming with me." 

Blinking, (Y/N) forced her gaze to settle on this man. Just as she feared, he was looking right at her as he spoke. 

Though she was largely unwilling to not pay attention to the concert of her life, she didn't think she had much of a choice in ignoring this man. 

"Me?" she enunciated, pointing at herself if he wasn't able to hear her right. 

"Yes, you," he said again, eyes trained on her, "Now. Before the end of the show."

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't imagine she was any more rowdy than the rest of the crowd (especially, as she still had all of her undergarments on and her nose clean), but she was the one being removed? 

"Why?" she sputtered, anchoring to her spot. 

The man's lips thinned, unimpressed with her pushback. "I've been asked to bring you backstage." 

(Y/N) blanched at the new information. "By who?" she pressed, not entirely believing this moment. 

The man sighed, his shoulders lifting. He caught her gaze, holding it as he jerked his head to gesture to the stage behind him. 

Right where Harry Styles was prancing about, low slung jeans and all.

She blinked at him, flicking between his enlarged gaze to the rockstar at his back. "Really?" 

"Yes," he insisted, "And I would like to take you now while we still have the space." 

(Y/N) didn't immediately move, switching her eyes to Harry Styles, in all of his glistening glory. The curls on the top of his head were slick with sweat, but still managed to flop so handsomely over his features. His tattoos shuddered over his skin, animating with every belting note and roll of his body. 

He had promised to make this the best night of her life, and she couldn't imagine any better way than to meet him backstage. 

With the help of the man in black, she crossed the barricade with the eyes of those around her following closely behind. He led her carefully around the stage and through different equipment on quick feet, the music being left behind with the private backstage area before her. 

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Harry, with his microphone cord coiled around his hand and sparkling eyes, winked at her once more. 

—————

Sitting alone in what she figured was Harry's dressing room, (Y/N) could hear the final encore being played through the walls. While a part of her was itching to run back out, to catch those moments she had been looking forward to from the second she had bought her ticket, she was practically bolted to her spot. 

All around her were small relics of the man out on that stage. An herbal candle sat with a pool of melted wax on the vanity table, anchoring down a blue cloth. Flecks of glitter seemed to stick to near every surface, leaving specks of light dotted across every surface, including the familiar container of makeup remover reflected in the mirror. A faded t-shirt was on the ground, next to a rumpled pair of athletic sweats. A bottle of cologne balanced on the edge, just a bump away from falling to the floor. 

Her fingers fumbled in her lap, her heart puttering in her chest. She was backstage at a Harry Styles concert after being requested by the man himself. Knowing his discography well enough, every note that rocked through the walls acted like a ticking time clock, counting down to the moment she would no longer be alone in this dressing room. 

Muffled through the arena, she heard the music crescendoing, heavy drumbeats and addicting guitar riffs ruffling the structure. Harry's voice played over the music, though it was clear he wasn't singing. Was he saying his goodbyes for the night? 

The thought had her heart jumping into her throat, head going blank. 

Should she stand up? Should she meet him up there? Would he like her outfit or was the cutout between her breasts too much? Oh god, what was she going to say? 

Her pulse was kicked into overdrive when she heard a ruckus start up backstage, more voices piping up than she'd heard in the last ten minutes. Harry's voice had disappeared from the muffled tone he'd had on stage, making her pulse kick up that much more. 

How close was he? Was anyone else going to come back here with him? Would he think her pants were stupid?

The long line of questions came to a halt the second the doorknob turned, the sound seemingly louder than the band playing the show out back on the stage. A muffled goodbye sounded on the other side before the first glimpse of the rockstar could be seen.

He was looking over his shoulder, speaking to someone she couldn't see around the broad strokes of his frame. His bare skin shimmered with sweat and glitter, animating his tattoos over the blocks of his muscles. The denim of his jeans were tight around his thighs though the waist still managed to fall some down his hips, showcasing a pair of leafy tattoos. He was saying something, a string of words that she missed completely over the roaring in her ears. 

It felt like hours, watching him say his final goodbyes to whoever, before he finally turned around to face her. 

Had her mouth already been dropped open, or was that just a side effect of seeing the green of his eyes up close? 

"Hi," he smiled at her, moving towards his vanity table to retrieve the blue cloth held down under the candle, "How are you?" 

Blinking, (Y/N) practically stumbled to her feet, her hands behind her back in a fumbling mess. "Hi. I'm good, thank you. How are you?" 

A small smile touched his lips, "'M alright, thanks. 'M Harry." 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to smile, a breath of laughter falling from her lips. "Oh, you're Harry! Got it," she attempted to joke, feeling one of the many strings tensing her shoulders being cut when he rewarded her with a bubbling laugh. "I'm (Y/N)." 

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he shared, a single curl flopping over his forehead as he ran the cloth over his face and down his neck, "'M happy y'made it back here—was worried y'weren't going to come after seeing y'talk to Paul." 

"I was just a little confused," she explained, noting the way his eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, "I couldn't believe you were actually asking for me." 

"No?" he pressed, raising a brow with a quirk to his lips. He leant against the vanity counter, giving her all of his attention as if he wasn't shirtless with a sweaty chest staring at her. "And why is that, hm?" 

Somehow, even without the amps and speakers booming throughout the venue, his voice held more impact in the quiet dressing room. The bass seemed heavier, his accent more drawling, the draw of his lips more alluring without a microphone in the way. 

"Um," she started, blinking the stars out of her eyes, "Just... There was a lot going on out there—I didn't think you could even see me over the lights—or the bras." 

Harry laughed, dimples popping into his cheeks with a light in his eyes. "Yeah, there was a lot out there tonight. Want anything before 's all cleaned up out there?" 

He gestured out the door of his dressing room while (Y/N) shrugged. "Maybe. Was there anything pretty?" 

The way he let his eyes drop heavily to her body, touching over the cutout on her top and the soft of her midriff exposed by the cropped fit almost made (Y/N) want to stumble back. When he dared to meet her eyes once more, he had a coy curl to his lips as if she hadn't been there as he dragged his eyes over her. 

"I can think of a couple of things that might look pretty on you." 

Despite the small laugh that puffed from her lips, her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't wanted to get too far ahead of herself when she was first asked to meet him backstage, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked at her and still think this was nothing more than a friendly conversation. 

"If there's anything you don't want, I'll take," she countered, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of her heartbeat with the way it was rushing through her ears. 

The coy smile on his mouth turned into something more genuine then, amusement in his eyes. "Yeah? Y'saw anything y'think I need to take home?" 

Even with the squeeze of her lungs, the nervous pit in her stomach, (Y/N) saw her own opportunity being dangled before her. She hoped she came off as nonchalant as she pictured as she shrugged, canting her head with a slight lick of her gaze down his chest. "I think you look good enough right now." 

While there was still a lingering flush on his cheeks from the stage, the adrenaline clearly visible on his features, her words seemingly only fanned him hotter. The cloth he held was now dropped to the vanity, his empty hands coming to rest on the lip of the counter behind him. His arms flexed at his sides, veins popping out on his forearms. 

"Good enough for what?" he pressed, a spark skittering through his eyes.

He hadn't shot her down. He was flirting back. Oh, god. 

What would one of the women in the magazines say? How did they flirt with him so effortlessly to be invited for a fanciful—even if fleeting—night? 

"You tell me," she countered, the only syllables that were able to squeak through her throat. 

Dimples were deep in his cheeks by the time he turned around, collecting the bottle of makeup remover before pouring some on his cloth. He began wiping away the glitter as he found her eyes in the mirror. 

"The band and I are going back to the hotel with a few friends—maybe party a little. Y'wanna come?" 

Bubbling excitement like what she felt out on the arena floor reentered her stomach. A bright smile touched her features. 

"I'd love to."

—————

"Pick your poison, darling." 

(Y/N) didn't even know there were hotel rooms with fully stocked bars, but here was one right before her. A liquor tray behind the counter was decorated with plenty of bottles and decanters, more than half already missing gulps. Harry was acting as her bartender while the rest of the band and various guests were traipsing around the suite, the door to the hallway left wide open as they milled in and out. Music pumped through a set of stereo speakers, a member of Harry's band acting as DJ with various records and cassettes being switched in and out upon the players. 

More than one familiar face swept through the suite, people she'd seen in the crowd of the arena tonight alongside those she'd met backstage. Some left the bathrooms with wide eyes and sniffling noses, others with hair bigger than when they had gone in and lipstick askew with a partner behind them. It was nowhere near the kind of party she had pictured when following after Harry, but she'd never been around rockstars before either. 

Flitting her gaze over the various bottles surrounding Harry, (Y/N) canted her head. "Anything sweet." 

Harry hummed, a slight quirk to his lips as he started fiddling about the different bottles. "Should've guessed, hm?" 

"Why do you say that?" 

Leaning on the bar, arms folded underneath her chest with her breasts pushed up, (Y/N) watched with her eyes lingering on his hands. All of his stage adornments, including his rings, had been left behind when he changed into something decidedly less ostentatious for this party, leaving the length of his fingers bare for her eyes to feast upon. 

"Jus' had a feeling," he smiled at her, his eye falling into a wink. 

(Y/N) watched with the same rapt attention she had given him on stage as he mixed her drink. He pulled bottles of clear liquor together with various juices, working in smooth movements as a brightly colored cocktail came together. Everything he did came off as fluid and practiced, the same kind of ease he offered to the stage with every note he belted and swagger of his hips.

"We jus' got here," Harry murmured, knocking her attention from his hands to his amused gaze, "Y'can't keep looking at me like that unless you're ready for our night to end." 

Her breath caught in her throat. He'd told her earlier that this entire floor had been booked out for him and his band, but his room was at the very end. The biggest suite, he'd said—with a terrace and everything. 

Would it be so bad to find out what his room looked like so early?

Attempting her best nonchalant facade, (Y/N) shrugged, a coy smile on her face. It was enough to make Harry laugh. 

She could see him open his mouth to say something only to be cut off by a shout of his name from across the room. He whipped to face the call, the baby curls drying on the back of his neck giving a bounce at the motion. (Y/N) turned to follow his line of sight, seeing a semi-familiar face she had passed when backstage heading towards them with a beaming smile. 

"I didn't know you were here! Took you forever to clean up, I thought you were spending the night at the venue," the man joked, pushing long dreads over his shoulder. His dark eyes danced over to (Y/N) for a fleeting second, his grin widening. "Is this your friend Mitch was telling me about?" 

Rounding the bar with a fluorescent drink in his hand, Harry handed off the glass to (Y/N) (no ice, the crystal warm from his hand) before slinging his arm over her shoulder. She felt a shiver touch the bottom of her spine, though she used all of her effort to keep it pinned down.

Harry shrugged her closer to him, the side of her breast pushing against him through the thin material of her top. "Yeah, this is (Y/N). Met at the show—saw her pretty face right in the front row." 

Harry's friend looked at her with raised brows, amusement laced in his eyes as he followed the length of Harry's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? Liked the show?" 

(Y/N) eagerly nodded, Harry's hold slipping from around her shoulders to be readjusted around her waist with a flex. She could feel his eyes on her face as he awaited her answer. "Loved it," she chirped, smiling with a cant to her head, "I've never seen him live before, so tonight was really amazing. I feel really lucky." 

Maybe she was laying it on thick—she already made it backstage with his arm around her waist, she didn't have to catch his attention anymore—,but she liked seeing the dimples denting into his cheeks as he listened to her. 

"I didn't know tonight was your first time," he mumbled to her, voice low as if they didn't have another person standing just in front of them, watching on with amused eyes. 

"I'd feel lucky too if I were you," the man continued, his voice lilting in a tease, "Most of Harry's friends never make it past the dressing room."

"Alright, Jay," Harry cut in, voice louder than a moment before as he suddenly steered them towards the end of the conversation, "I'll see y'later. Thanks." 

Jay only laughed it off, seemingly having achieved the reaction he wanted from Harry. (Y/N) didn't let herself linger on the motion of Harry's other friends—she knew she wasn't first and would most likely not be the last. Some of her wildest dreams had been reached just by meeting him, she could be happy with whatever she was granted tonight. Even if it was just that: one night. 

"Sorry," Harry murmured, saving face as he guided (Y/N) away from Jay and towards the sitting area where most of the musicians were huddled together with drinks and records splayed across the coffee table. She ignored the faint lines of white scattered over the recognizable covers. "He likes to get on m'nerves, I think." 

"It's alright," (Y/N) reassured, watching as Harry sunk into the one cushion left on the couch, "I thought it was funny." 

Harry raised a brow at her, a sly smile on his lips, "'M sure y'did. C'mere darling."

He gestured her to his lap, opening his arms for her to plant herself on his thighs. Looking at him with his eyes trained upwards at her, sparkling and a bit lazy after putting on an energetic show, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She had to make a point to see from tripping all over herself to take up his invitation. 

There were eyes all around that watched as she took her spot on Harry's spread thighs, taking note of his arm wrapping around her middle to keep her steady. She had her own eyes down looking at her pretty drink as she hid the smile on her face. The cropped cut of her top allowed his palms to press against the bare skin of her waist, calluses roughening his touch from his years of playing different guitars. She was sure he could feel the line of goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch, including the circuit his thumb started up around the waistline of her pants. 

(Y/N) brought her head up when she heard the call of Harry's name from one of the many sitting around the coffee table. The guitarist—Mitch—had his head tilted, looking at Harry with a sly smile on his face. 

"Mitchell?" Harry drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice as he pulsed a hand on (Y/N)'s waist. 

"Are you going to introduce any of us to your friend?" 

While Mitch and others in the circle didn't look particularly surprised to see someone on Harry's arm, it appeared Jay wasn't kidding with his comment about a rare few of Harry's friends making it past the dressing room. 

"This is (Y/N), everyone," Harry relented, his voice low despite the music blasting just behind them. Nonetheless, everyone gave him rapt attention as if he had a microphone in his hand. "(Y/N), this is everyone." 

"Hi, everyone," (Y/N) smiled, hoping she came off funnier than she sounded to herself,  "Nice to meet you." 

She could feel Harry laugh, his chest puffing from behind her. She took another sip of her drink, hiding her proud smile. 

Conversation bubbled up then, some words slurred and slow while others were rambling at a rapid pace. (Y/N) sipped her drink as she took in the environment, listening in as if she were watching a movie. Harry's rumbling voice was an anchor at her back, his hand on her thigh keeping her attention as she tuned into his voice. 

Behind her, he and Mitch were talking about the new customer Fender that was being made in Harry's honor. Perfect for the next album, she'd heard, the information brightening up her face. 

"What are y'smiling about, hm? Something funny?" Harry's lips brushed the back of her ear, his voice drifting down the column of her neck. As he spoke he shifted his hand up to land on her waist, giving the curve a tickling squeeze. She jumped in his lap, holding her drink tight to her chest as she let out a gasping laugh. 

"No," she smiled, turning to face him as he gazed up at her, "Just... New music? Already?" 

"'M always working on something," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet as if conspiring with her on sensitive secrets. 

Curling in his chest, (Y/N) could still hear the rivers of conversations flowing around them, eyes that landed on her as she cuddled up to a rockstar, but she kept her eyes on him. "Really? But you're on tour." 

He shrugged around her. "There's always something to write about," he told her, eyes dragging down her face until he landed on her lips, "Something worth making a song about." 

Her skin heated, feeling his gaze as if he touched her with his calloused fingers. Feeling his attention so heavily was like finishing her drink and standing on a rooftop over the city: exhilarating. How had anyone before her survived these kinds of moments—been bold enough to sit through them without taking down every second and memorializing it?

She wasn't sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had the corner of his lips turning upwards. A smug smile molded his features. 

"What did I say about looking at me like that?" he murmured, his words teasing though the grip on her hip was far from. 

Canting her head, she matched his gaze, his grip on her keeping her grounded. "I thought you liked it." 

In that moment, his eyes seemingly darkened, pupil dilating. If not for the rest of the noise around them—the music and loud conversation—she wondered what his instincts would have urged him to do. 

"I do," he crooned, shifting under her with his hand still on her hip. 

The way he moved underneath her had her position adjusted on his lap, pushing the curve of her ass right against the middle of his thighs. A hard ridge pressed against her. Emphasizing his point exactly. 

"Oh," she sighed, feeling breathless as if she were still flush against the barricade with an illuminated rockstar before her. It was that memory of him swaggering about the stage, picking her face out and singing the songs she'd listened to like gospel, that had a burst of confidence in her chest. That rockstar had picked her. 

Keeping her eyes on his, she whispered, "Can I hear some of the new music? In your suite?" 

She didn't have to elaborate any further, Harry catching on to the undercurrent to her words. A single dimple touched his cheek, his hand pulsing around her hip. "Let's go." 

(Y/N) stood first off of his lap with Harry following after, reaching to take her hand in his. 

"Leaving already?" Mitch piped up, his eyes dancing with amusement as Harry turned to face him. 

"Gonna show her some of the stuff we've been working on," Harry drawled, nonchalant as he began inching towards the door, "Back in m'room." 

"Coming back?" 

Harry glanced at (Y/N) then, a silent communication that had her sheepishly smiling. "Probably not." 

"Right," Mitch said, brows bouncing over his eyes, "See you in the morning." 

Without much ceremony, Harry made their getaway for the night, leading her out into the hall. Stragglers were stationed around the ajar door, some with a lingering powder under their nose, others with hair messed up more than what (Y/N) was sure was intentional, matching the smudged makeup. Harry only gave them an acknowledging nod before heading down the corridor with her in tow. 

It was a short walk to the door, though (Y/N) hoped to be able to recall every step down the hall, every beat of her heart against her ribs in the morning. 

"After you," he crooned, opening the door with a flourish as he stood to the side. 

She gave him a smiling nod as she crossed the threshold. The press of his gaze could be felt on her backside. 

Flicking the lights on, a true suite was presented to her. She could only see the bedroom through a cracked door. The main living area, though much more put together compared to the room they'd just left, it was still clear a rockstar was crashing there. Random clothing was strewn about the space, open suitcases full of stage clothing as well as casual pieces. A heavy boombox with an array of tapes scattered around it was placed atop the television. 

It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, given the rumors of what rock stars got up to in hotel rooms, but she figured that was what the extra rooms were for. It wasn't much fun sleeping in a mess, especially when on stage every night with little sleep to boot. 

"Didn't have time to clean up today, sorry," Harry said, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder at him, setting her cocktail on the counter of the kitchenette as she walked deeper into the suite. "Too busy?" 

Dimples in his cheeks, he walked slowly as he followed her in. "A little bit." 

Stepping around the mess, she found herself by the sound system, rifling through the cassettes he had around it. The plastic casing gleamed in the light, more than a handful scattered on the television stand. A few familiar, newer albums stood out. 

Bowie, Station to Station. Queen, Day at the Races. Ramones' debut. Elton John, Blue Moves.

One empty case was beside the player, the cover flipped open with the tape missing. Flicking it back, the cover of ABBA's Arrival shone. 

"ABBA?" 

Behind her, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder. "What? Y'don't like disco?" 

"I do," she laughed, turning around to face him, "Just didn't picture you as a dancing queen, that's all. You look a little bit older than seventeen." 

Harry clasped his hands behind her back, his fingers pressing into the bare skin presented through the crop of her shirt. His features were softened as he matched her gaze, eyes hooded and heavy. "Does that disqualify me?" 

"Probably." She wasn't sure when they started whispering, when his fingertips on her back began to creep under the hem of her top, but she melted into his touch with her own hands settling on his chest. 

"Still like me?" 

It should have been annoying to hear him speak this way. It wasn't hard to detect the cockiness—near arrogance—in his voice; he knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. It should have turned her off and had her taking her leave. 

But, it only had the opposite effect. His confidence was a warmth hitting her stomach.

With him so close, their bodies flush, she didn't have to try very hard when she shifted her hips to feel the bulge in his pants pressing to the small of her stomach. 

"Yeah," she answered simply, voice suddenly breathless. 

Just as she expected, a smug smile had his lips curling. His hooded gaze traveled around her features, the tip of his tongue skimming the corner of his mouth.

"How much?" 

This was the moment, she decided. There was no way she was in a rockstar's hotel room, after being plucked from the crowd at his request, feet away from his bedroom, and not going to take the opportunity that was being offered on a silver platter. 

"I can show you." 

That had to have been what he wanted to hear, given the fact he surged forward and sealed his lips to hers. 

Unsurprisingly (not that she'd thought about it, or anything), his lips were soft, molding to the shape of her own glossed pair. He slotted his mouth to fit her top lip between the pillows of his two, the tip of his tongue slicking the seam. The smoky taste of the whisky he'd drunk back in the other suite lingered on his tongue, mixing with the sweet liquor of her own sips. 

His hands on her back flattened out, leaving on her bare skin between the waist of her pants and the cropped hem of her top, with the other slipping underneath. His palm was aligned with the knobs of her spine, spanning between her shoulder blades under the thin material of her top.

Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. The soft sound of their lips parting and meeting once more filled his hotel room, slick and messy. His tongue snaked out, sampling a taste of her own when she opened her mouth just enough for him. (Y/N)'s chest shuddered. 

She was kissing Harry fucking Styles. 

She hadn't kept a diary in years, but she was going to have to crack open a new one just to write out every detail of this moment. (Though, she might leave out the bit about how ABBA's Dancing Queen got them there).

"What are y'smiling about?" 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, hands traveling up his chest to follow the broad stretch of his shoulders. 

He pulled away, keeping his body close to hers as he gazed down at her. His lips were glossed with their shared spit, his pupils blown. "You're smiling. What's funny, hm?" 

His hand under her top shifted until he had his palm over her side, lining up with the ladder of her ribs. Goosebumps touched over her heated skin. 

"Nothing," she murmured, her own hands moving until she had his cheeks cupped in her palms. "Just... This is crazy." 

His eyes practically sparkled with the way she breathlessly spoke. Leaning close, he nudged his nose against hers, eyes slitted. "Yeah?" 

Gone was the smile on her face as she listened to the same voice that had soundtracked her life for the last handful of years. All while he looked at her with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes, his hard cock pressing through the material of his pants. 

"Yeah," she parroted, breathy with the word sweeping over his lips. 

It was his turn to smile, surging forward to smear his lips against hers. It was a lingering press, just a bit clumsy with the way his nose knocked hers. She was expecting him to tip his head and deepen the kiss once more, only for him to pull away. 

"I think I promised some new music, right, love?" 

Blinking up at him through her lashes, in a second she was transported back to the other suite, where she had conjured up the story of sneaking to his room to hear new tracks. That felt like hours ago—like she had been a different person back then. Someone who had never kissed Harry Styles before, at least. 

"Right," she smiled, playing along with the game he was proposing, "In your bedroom?" 

A smile grew on his lips. "Of course. Where else?" 

She let out a breathy laugh as she followed after him, hands twined together as they left behind the cassettes and strewn clothing for his darkened bedroom. Different from the rest of the suite, only lamps are left to light the room. Only a single standing lamp beside the rumpled bed was flicked on, leaving a small wash of light sitting on the messy sheets and the bedside table on the opposing side. The space holding a smokey sweet scent, matching the fragrance of his skin. A mess of unlabelled cassettes occupied the bedside table, with another more compact player off to the side. 

Shooting her a lopsided smile, Harry led her to the side table. His hand still in hers, he rifled through the tapes with his free hand. 

"What do y'want to listen to first?" 

The blank bricks held no indication of what could be on them other than a silver sharpie marking them as demos with different numbers. 

"This is your new music?" she murmured, eyes widening when she realized what she was looking at. 

"Mhm," he hummed, the weight of his eyes hitting the line of her profile, "Wanna hear m'favorites?" 

Looking at him through the fan of her lashes, she gave him a nod, pretending as if she wasn't as excited as she really was. She figured being giddy over a couple of tapes wasn't exactly a sexy look. 

Deft fingers pulled out a tape marked as Demo #4 before setting it into the player. Through the speakers, the sound was crackly and quiet compared to the records of his voice she had in her bedroom. The guitar started first, the chords wavy and psychedelic, the guitarist letting the notes linger as if they were melting through the speakers. 

Just as a familiar voice sounded over the notes, Harry pulled her flush to his chest with the help of the grip on her hand. His free hand cupped her cheek, his lips meeting hers in a clumsy mess. He fit her bottom lip between his two, immediately touching the tip of his tongue to the full center of her lip. (Y/N) didn't have to think before she had her mouth parted, letting him in once more. 

Letting go of his hand, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging to him. She hadn't been aware her nails could be felt through the thin fabric until a shuddering breath rocked his chest. 

Walking her the short steps backwards, Harry blindly guided her to the edge of the bed. Her knees gave way to the mattress before she fell backwards, Harry following after with his hips fit between her thighs. 

The chains of his necklace dangled over the base of her throat, a cool point of clarity against the rising warmth of her skin. His hands skated down her sides, grazing the bare skin presented from the cut of her top. Her hips fit against his like a puzzle piece, cradling as he pushed against her core with lingering rocks. 

While his hands roamed over her form with their lips locked, (Y/N) took advantage of her position under him and locked a leg over his hip. Reaching up, she racked her fingers through his hair. The curls threaded around her fingers, a low rumble coming from his throat when she pulled just enough at the roots. 

The bass of his moan came just as there was a peak to his voice playing through the cassette player. (Y/N) was reminded she was making out with a rockstar to his own unreleased music. Her hips rocked upwards at the thought. 

Harry began to kiss down her chin, over her neck, and to the shelf of her collarbones while he fit the lengths of his fingers under the material of her top. Her bare skin sang for him, blood rushing through her veins. 

His lips travelled down until he hit the neckline of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmured into her skin, the words sinking into her pores. 

"Uh-huh," she nodded, goosebumps rising when the tip of his nose brushed her neck. "Please." 

She could feel the way he smiled at her response, the curl pressed into her skin before he bit at the line of her collarbone. Her grip in his hair tightened at the short sting, her leg curling that much more around his hip. 

As promised, Harry, with his hands underneath her shirt, helped slide it over her head. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from his hair and raised up from the bed long enough for him to slip it off her form and for the garment to become another piece of clothing puddled on the floor. 

Without a bra, her breasts were exposed to the buttery light of the lamp. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her chest rising and falling with each breath she pulled in. Harry didn't wait before he lowered his face to her breasts, smearing his lips over the swells. He scraped his teeth along the plush skin, leaving tender marks in his wake. Her hands once again found his hair, burying her fingers among the strands. 

After a particularly harsh bite, she pulled his hair harshly. She could feel the sly smile that touched at his lips. 

"Feeling good, baby? Like it when I bite you?"

 She gave a clumsy nod of her head, mouth opened in a soundless nod. With her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her nipple, wanting the sting of his bite on the tender bud. 

He didn't immediately give in, only pecking a soft kiss to the peak before looking up at her through the frame of his lashes. "Want me rough? Like it like that?" 

Mindlessly nodding, she keened at the rumbling of his voice. "I like it rough," she bubbled, speaking over the unedited melodies of his voice. 

Instead of responding, Harry gave her what she wanted, his teeth scraping over her nipple. With her hands still in his hair, she gripped the strands at the roots, her back bowing into his lips. Her lips parted with a breathy moan. 

Harry took care of her, his mouth skating over her breasts. His teeth left tender spots—some she almost wanted to leave bruises—with his tongue following in the way, soothing the marks. Her stomach tightened with every wet press of his mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips. He played with the waist of her bottoms, his kiss following slowly after as he trailed down the soft of her stomach. The tip of his nose skimmed her skin, a tickling feeling rising in her chest that had a burst of laughter bubbling out. 

With his lips still attached to her, he peered up at her through his lashes. A slow smile stretched his lips, the curl pressing into her skin. 

"You're always laughing, baby," he murmured, "What is it this time, hm?" 

"Tickles," she laughed, the melody floating over the next track playing off of Demo #4.

A plume of his own rumbling laughter grazed her stomach, goosebumps raising on her skin. Cushioned by the messy, tobacco scented sheets, (Y/N) watched with laughter edging on her lips as he nuzzled into her stomach. He made a show of hitting the waist of her pants with his fingers hooked into the band. 

From between her thighs, he looked up at her with hooded eyes. "Gonna take these off, baby. 'S that alright?" 

"Uh-huh," she nodded. With his hair out of reach of her hands, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he worked, fingers curling into the sheets. 

With deft hands, Harry made quick work of the garment. It didn't take long before her pants and boots were on the ground beside her discarded top, leaving (Y/N) in nothing more than a pair of string panties. 

(It was done as a joke almost, when she was getting ready, to pick panties as if she was going to be showing off for someone after the show. She'd never been more grateful for that delusional choice).

Harry was still fully clothed as he took his place once more between her legs, laying the broad of his body flush to hers. Her breasts were pressed into the solid blocks of muscle of his chest, only the thin material of his top separating her skin from his. He sealed his lips to hers once more, getting a taste of her tongue against his in broad strokes.

It was her turn to start stripping him, keeping her mouth to his as she plucked at the neckline of his shirt. 

He pulled away with a breath, lips spit-slicked and kiss-swollen. He looked all too satisfied with himself as he gazed down at her, pulling off his shirt. Throwing it somewhere in the room, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to catch the landing before he was crowding around her once more. 

"Trying to get me naked?" he murmured, a teasing thread through his tone, "Think 'm that easy, love?" 

"I'm hoping," she smiled, pecking a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. She could taste the smear of her lipstick on his skin. 

Chasing after her mouth, he trailed his lips over her cheek, following the line of her cheekbone. Whispering to her, lips brushing her ear, he said, "Y'want me, baby? Tell me." 

Between the press of his covered cock against her pussy, the rumble of his voice through her chest and against the shell of his ear, her eyes fluttered to a close. Her mouth was dropped in a gape, her breathing stilted. 

"I want you," she said, suddenly breathless, "I-I've thought about this before." 

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah? What've y'thought about, baby?" 

"Yeah," she repeated dazedly, sucking in a harsh gasp when ground down hard between her legs. "I—um—I wondered if all the stories were true. If-if you are really like how everyone says." 

"Is that why y'dressed like this tonight? Hoping you'd find out for yourself?" 

She didn't want to melt over how cocky he was, how sure of himself over assuming she had dressed with him in mind. But, he was right—she wanted him to at least see her, remember her if she was lucky enough. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine her cutout crop top and tight pants would land her here. 

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head. "I wanted to know if your songs were true." 

"Which ones?" 

"The ones," she stalled when she felt his hand slip between their bodies, tickling over soft curves of her body until he reached the apex of her thighs.  "Um—the ones about... You sing a lot about eating pussy." 

His laugh was warm, bubbling over her. "I do, don't I?"

"Almost two albums worth," she teased, a lighthearted tone running under her words before she was cut off. 

Between her legs, he made no ceremony of the way he pulled her panties to the side and dragged his fingers through her folds. It wasn't until he split her open that she realized just how wet she'd become. Slick noises from between her legs filled the bedrooms, two of Harry's fingers slipping through her slit in long strokes, prodding at her weeping hole and nudging her clit, in a smooth circuit. 

"What did y'think about when you'd hear those songs?" Harry asked as if she had any mind left to comprehend anything but his touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut when he circled her clit in a teasing touch, she dug her nails into the strapping muscles of his biceps. Under her hands she could feel the way the hand between her legs had his arm flexing with every movement.

"Huh?" 

Through a smile he pressed a messy kiss to the space before her ear. "What did y'think about when y'had your fingers in your pussy?" 

The blunt wording had her insides tightening, a squeeze she was sure he could feel as he brushed over her opening. 

"How did I fuck you in your pretty head, hm? Tell me, baby." 

Her mouth had a mind of its own as she started blabbering off without a thought. "Hard—You'd fuck me hard. I-I'd let you do anything to me, daddy." 

His hand between her legs lagged, lingering close to her clit but not close enough. "What was that?" 

"What?" she mumbled, turning her head in hopes of catching him in a kiss. 

Harry pulled away, just out of reach though he kept his hooded eyes on hers. "What did y'jus' say?" 

Blinking at his question, she attempted to cast her mind back enough to catch any memory of what she said. It dawned on her slowly, the kind of word she let slip from her imagination and into the real world. 

"Um," she floundered, skin flushing in a different way than just a heartbeat before. 

His smile grew, lopsided and entertained over her tied tongue. Leaning over her, he nudged his nose against hers, the full of his lips just barely brushing over hers. 

"Y'called me daddy." 

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Her hands tightened around his biceps. 

"Say it again, baby." 

Her mouth dropped into a gape. He wanted her to say it again?

"What?" 

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice melding with the crackly tape soundtracking this moment, "'S alright—I know y'want to." 

How was she supposed to say no to that?

Hyperaware of the way her voice wrapped around the word, she hoped it would be just as intriguing to him this second time. 

"Daddy." 

A rumbling moan left his chest just before he dove down, slotting his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Between her legs, he didn't hesitate before he slipped his fingers inside. The length of the digits were fit snug inside, opening her up as he gave a few cursory thrusts through. She could barely even kiss him back, her face screwing up in pleasure at the jolting touch with her lips parting. Harry slipped his tongue inside, licking over her own as he stroked his fingers through her pulsing walls.

Her breathing completely stalled when he curled his fingers, the calloused pads pressing into the spongy spot hidden among her walls. There were only a few times when she'd had the patience to find the spot herself, her memories of the sensation paling in comparison to what was happening to her now. Instinctively, she wanted to close her thighs, keep his hand from moving anywhere away from her. Harry's free hand came down and cupped the soft inside of her thigh, and splayed her legs open wide for him. 

"Again," he ordered, the command falling on her tongue. 

It didn't take a single thought before she was falling to his instruction. "Daddy—fuck." 

"Feel good, baby?" he crooned, breathy and heated against her mouth. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined. 

"I bet it does," he teased, "Can barely keep still for me, huh? For daddy?"

 Her stomach wound itself tight at the sound of his accent, the same voice she'd listened to through her headphones and the crackles of her record player, wrapped around the title. This was what her fantasies were made of. 

"Liked that?" he drawled, a sly smile working onto her lips, "Could feel how much y'liked that. Is this what y'thought about when you'd fuck yourself, baby?" 

Rocking her hips up into his hand, he never lagged on circling the spongy wall inside her, only breaking when he opted to thrust deep inside to keep her on edge. His palm was pressed headily against her clit, the heel smeared heavily over it with every lingering stroke through her insides. 

"Al-always you," she breathlessly admitted, "Always wanted you there with me." 

"I know, baby. Y'need me, huh?" 

"Yes, daddy," she panted, eyes rolling to the back of her head. 

Dropping his forehead to rest on the apple of her cheek, she felt Harry's own heavy breaths  sweeping over her heated skin. "You're gonna come for me, baby. I want y'to come on m'fingers, then 'm gonna fuck you like y'want."  

He didn't give her any room to respond as he kept his palm heavy on her clit and drilled the pads of his fingers to the sensitive spot inside her. He didn't relent, her senses becoming overwhelmed with nothing but him. Even the sheets smelled of him, there was nowhere she could turn without finding more of him to pull in. 

Her toes curled as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure brewing in her stomach, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps. She could feel her insides tightening, ribboning together in a contracting bow. (Y/N) wasn't even sure if her lungs were working around the pounding of her heart, her breathing shallow. 

Suddenly, the pleasure she was feeling and floating in was too much. Her muscles were bunched almost too tight, snug around his fingers and sucking him in as if there were more to be taken.

Letting go of his arm, she reached for his wrist for an anchor. "I—Wa—Harry, I—" 

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, shifting until he caught her swollen lips in a kiss, "You're gonna squirt f'me, yeah? Make a mess with me." 

"I—I've never—I can't—"

"You can. You can and you will, baby. Squirt for daddy." 

The culmination of the way he talked to her—the rockstar she'd admired for years—the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the sound of his unreleased music filtering through the heated room, and every stroke of his fingers through her pulsing walls had her giving way to his command. 

(Y/N) swore every bit of her body bunched, her hand tight around the bones of his wrist, toes curls, and eyes squeezed shut. Harry never relented, working her through the heaviest weight in her stomach. In a heartbeat, everything her body was squeezing, holding inside herself, let go. 

A gush came from between her legs, rushing out around the plug of his fingers in her pussy. Every shallow motion of his hand against her went from slick to completely wet sounding, every beat of his fingers coaxing another rush of cum from her. 

With her mouth dropped in a wordless gape, (Y/N) felt Harry's eyes on her with the way her skin buzzed, hyperaware. Her mind was cast elsewhere, miles away with her body anchored right where she was underneath him. She wasn't sure when she would come back—if she even wanted to with the way the feeling washed over each of her nerve endings. 

"Look at that," he murmured in awe, his voice finally sounding like more than a rumble through the rushing heartbeat in her ears. "Jus' like I asked. So good, baby. So good f'me." 

The descent was slow, the aftershock of her orgasm lingering in her bones until it finally relented enough for her to crack her eyes open. Harry looked down at her, satisfied with dark eyes trained on her features. With a jolting touch to her clit, he pulled his hand out from her pulsing walls, leaving her swollen and sensitive between her thighs. 

She could feel the inside of her thighs slick with her release, Harry's hand that landed on her hip just as sticky. Dipping his head down, he caught her in a languid kiss, nose nudging the bridge of hers. He was a bit too proud of himself, she thought, a dazed smile touching her lips. 

"Told you, y'could," he mumbled into her kiss, "Gotta listen to me more, hm?" 

"Maybe next time," she sighed, too out of it to try too hard to play along. 

"Maybe, next time," he repeated, letting out a plume of laughter for the both of them. Letting go of her hip, she could feel Harry fiddling with the waist of his pants, fingertips brushing against her sensitive core. "Ready f'me to fuck you? 

Her lashes fluttered in a blink, remembering his promise of giving her more tonight. Peering down at where his hands pushed down the band of his pants, she watched as his cock bobbed against his toned stomach. It was flushed red, head ruddy and slick with a vein vining along the shaft. A pearl of precum clung to the blocked muscles of his abs, where the length hit high under his navel. 

Just the sight of his hard cock had her stomach twining once more. Truthfully, she wouldn't have imagined anything less—not with the way he carried himself. 

"Baby," Harry sang, grabbing her attention, "Are y'ready? Gotta say it—tell me y'want me." 

Whatever he saw on her face was enough to have a dimple denting his cheek, more than satisfied with the desire in her eyes. "I want you," she said, despite the quivering muscles in her thighs, "Please, daddy." 

His features shifted at her words, darkening as his eyes dragged heavily over her body. The way he looked at her was enough to have goosebumps on her skin, lungs squeezing. 

"Think 'm gonna fit?" he crooned, fisting his length as he dragged the crown through her slit. 

Before she could answer, he laid his cock against the small of her stomach, lining it up to show just how far inside he would reach once sinking in. His balls pressed against her clit, setting a jolt up her spine. She could feel him throbbing, matching the rhythm of her heart. 

"We-We'll make it fit." 

His laugh was melodious, lighthearted amongst the atmosphere cultivated between them. He cut himself off when he reared his hips back and nudged the head of his cock against her opening, a soft wet noise slicking through the room. Nothing seemed to be too funny, then. 

Reaching for the wrist to the hand keeping her thighs spread, (Y/N) anchored herself to him with the grip. She felt her walls split open as he pushed through, the flare of his head nudging through the squeezing pulses. A lingering whine sung from her throat, breathless and pitched.

Harry seemingly held his breath as he bottomed out inside her, his base smearing against her clit. He reached the farthest parts of her, crowding in her stomach.  A whine of his name fell from her lips, her head falling back into the mattress with her eyes falling closed. 

Falling over her, Harry rested his forehead on the shelf of her collarbones, a heavy breath fanning across her heated skin. The press of his body atop hers was a comforting weight, keeping her wriggling form steady among the sheets. 

A whispered curse was felt against her skin just before Harry reared his hips back. The slide of his cock through her walls gave a pleasant burn, reminding her just how far she was stretching to fit him in. The slick of her gushing orgasm was more than enough to help him through the pulsing, wet noises sodding from where their bodies joined. 

Just as she adjusted to the slide of his length, Harry thrusted forward once more, keeping her stretched around him. He curated a rhythm, spearing through her in lingering draws. The breath was knocked out of her everytime, matching the heavy breaths Harry panted. 

"So wet for me, baby," he murmured, voice strained, "Fuck—Gonna make y'squirt for me again, yeah? Gonna do it again for daddy?" 

A loud moan filtered from her, reverberating through her chest with her head thrown back. This wasn't going to take long, she was sure. She was already twisted up inside, incredibly sensitive given the kind of pleasure he'd given her just minutes before. Every time he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside, the ridge ground against the spongy spot hidden between her walls. As soon as he sank inside, her clit was pressed against his base. Each touch stole her breath, lungs stilted. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she frantically agreed, "I—I'm so close—fuck."

 "I know y'are," he crooned, teeth gritted, "'M gonna—Where do y'want me, baby? 

Her answer was immediate, a breathy moan, "My tits."

She could feel the way he twitched inside her, nudging hard against her snug walls. "I can do that for you, baby. Is thi-this what you've thought about—what y'wanted when y'came to m'show tonight?" 

Reaching up and looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close once more, their mouths resting against one another though there was no energy to be had to turn it into a kiss. "You made me so wet during the show," she admitted, the words sweeping across his mouth, "I wanted you to fuck me so bad." 

His hips bucked harshly against her own. "As soon as I saw you," he started, his voice graveled, "I knew I was taking y'home tonight." 

He caught her in a kiss, messy and off-centered. He plucked his teeth against her bottom lip, the sting running down her spine in a clarifying jolt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles crossing behind his back as he kept her close, disrupting his rhythm. Her toes curled as his thrusts turned into lingering rolls against her, shooting his head deeper. 

This time, the growing spiral in her stomach came on quickly. The knot she was now familiar with built quickly, heavy and tight with every grind of his base against her clit. It was all too much, enough to have her crying into his mouth. 

"Squirt for me, baby," he murmured, coaxing her closer to the edge with every rumble of his voice, "Show daddy how much y'want me." 

She didn't have to think—unable to think—her orgasm came rushing. Though it wasn't quite as messy as the first time, she could still feel the gush between her legs, fighting against the plug of his cock. It was hard and fast, knocking the breath out of her to leave her mouth dropped in a silent gape. 

It wasn't until she was beginning to see the other side that she heard Harry's voice, a string of curses, coming out through gritted teeth, could be heard. She was still high in the clouds when he pulled out, shifting up to his knees on the bed until he was hovering above her. Cracking her eyes open, she could see the same wild look in his eyes that she was sure was in hers, dazed and out of this world. 

Fisting his length, his hand squelched along his shaft for only a handful of pumps until his cum gushed over her. Just as she asked, the ropes landed across her chest. Her skin was already heated enough, but the trails he left over her breasts were that much more. The sight of him working his own cock was enough to have her breathless once more, though her body was too sensitive to feel anything but a jolt through her nerve endings. 

Harry with his head thrown back, moaned out her name and strings of curses. Even these moments sounded like notes, perfect for setting to music. 

Once the world came back into focus, (Y/N) could feel cum drying on her chest, her own wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. Harry dropped to the mattress beside her, chest heaving and flushed. His eyes were closed though his head was turned to face her, raspberry lips swollen and parted. 

With the limited light from the lamp, he was bathed in buttery warmth. His chest sparkled with a sheen of sweat, droplets having run between the blocks of muscle underneath the inked lines of his tattoos. 

He took his time joining her back in this moment, his eyes shuttered closed as he ran her eyes over his features. If she had a camera with her, she would have had to take a shot of this—the moment pretty enough to end up as an album cover. The haze in her head did little to stop her from reaching out and tracing her fingertips over his face, just barely grazing her skin in glancing touches. 

A blooming smile made its way onto his lips, dimples denting his cheeks.  

"C'mere," he murmured, voice graveled and rocky. 

Despite the drying cum on her skin, Harry welcomed her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Holding her close, he nosed at the top of her head, uncaring about the sweat entwined in the strands of her hair. 

(Y/N) practically melted into his hold. She hadn't expected cuddling was a part of the package tonight. 

Her body grew heavy in his hold, the night's events catching up to her. Even without everything happening in this hotel—from the party to being invited into his suite—she had also been to a concert tonight, flush to the barricade. Her body was spent, even if her head pinged with reminders of just who had made it that way. 

It wasn't until the crackling stopped that she realized that the tape finally ended, needing to be replaced or turned to the other side. She couldn't even be bummed that she missed out on these unreleased tracks. She'd hear them again someday, probably. She wouldn't have this night again. 

She wasn't sure how long they laid with one another, cuddled and messy, before Harry's voice poked through the silence. 

"What are y'doing this summer?" 

A plume of laughter left her lips. Now was the time for small talk? 

"I don't know," she smiled, "Why?" 

Playing with the ends of her hair, Harry's tone was casual as he spoke, "Well, m'next show is this Saturday. Y'coming with me?" 

Her heart lagged. 

"What?" 

It was his turn to let out a breathy laugh. "I want y'to come with me, love. We could do this every night for as long as y'want." 

Before she could think better of it, another question blurted from her lips. "Why?" 

Harry paused. "Y'make me laugh—and cum faster than I should, but don't tell anyone that." 

In the dark of his suite, clothes puddled on the floor and bodies sticky, (Y/N) couldn't wait to pick up a diary just to write out how they laughed together. 

"You're that easy?" 

"I suppose I am, love." 

—————

its been a super long time since I wrote something with the plain intent of writing smut so I hope this turned out well shufshfuhs thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or requests!

[reasonsforhope]

LGBTQ+ organizations and allies are celebrating Michigan for becoming the first state in three years to pass comprehensive anti-discrimination protections for sexual orientation and gender identity. The legislation, which now heads to Gov. Gretchen Whitmer (D) to be signed into law, finally passed after decades of court battles and hold-ups from Republican legislators.

The bill passed in a 64-45 vote in the Democrat-led House on Wednesday. It amends the state’s 1976 Elliott-Larsen Civil Rights Act (ELCRA) to include LGBTQ+ people among its protected groups. The law forbids discrimination in housing, employment, and public accommodation within businesses, government buildings, and educational facilities on the basis of religion, race, color, national origin, age, sex, height, weight, familial status, marital status — and now, LGBTQ+ identity.

Democrats had tried introducing various LGBTQ+ non-discrimination measures over the last 40 years, according to the bill’s gay sponsor Sen. Jeremy Moss (D). However, the attempts were repeatedly voted down by Republican-led legislatures. Last January, Democrats took control of the full legislature for the first time in nearly 40 years, finally giving them the chance to pass the protections.

In July 2022, Michigan’s Supreme Court issued a landmark 5–2 ruling that ELCRA already forbade discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity as forms of discrimination based on sex and gender. This followed a 2020 Michigan Court of Claims ruling that said ELCRA didn’t ban anti-gay discrimination as well as a 2018 vote by Michigan’s Civil Rights Commission interpreting ELCRA as protecting LGBTQ+ people from religious-based discrimination...

When the House voted to pass the historic bill on Wednesday, a crowd in the House gallery broke into applause, Bridge Michigan reported. Republican House members had tried adding amendments that would’ve carved out exceptions for religious people to continue discriminating against LGBTQ+ people. None of these amendments passed into the final bill.

Gov. [Whitmer] has signaled that she will soon sign the bill into law. In a Wednesday tweet, she noted the observation of International Women’s Day and wrote, “I’m celebrating trans women who have continuously led the way, despite constant threats to their lives and liberty. I’m proud that we’re finally in a position to expand the Elliott-Larsen Civil Rights Act to protect LGBTQ+ Michiganders. Let’s get it done!”

-via LGBTQ Nation, 3/9/23

Note: If it's not clear from the language, this is basically a done deal--the bill signing IS ABSOLUTELY GOING TO HAPPEN.

As scary as things are right now, there are so many of us fighting to protect ourselves, our communities, and the queer and trans people around us.

This comes only a day after Minnesota's governor signed a landmark executive order that guarantees the right to gender-affirming care and prevents the state from complying with any other states' attempts to interfere. via them.us, 3/9/23

There is hope, and there are so many people fighting for us.

[mcmansionhell]

this house may or may not be real

on grayness in real estate

Allegedly, somewhere in Wake Forest, North Carolina, a 4 bed, 5.5 bathroom house totaling more than 6,600 square feet is for sale at a price of 2.37 million dollars. The house, allegedly, was built in 2021. Allegedly, it looks like this:

A McMansion is, in effect, the same house over and over again - it's merely dressed up in different costumes. In the 90s, the costume was Colonial; in the 2000s, it was vague forms of European (Tuscan, Mediterranean), and in the 2010s it was Tudor, dovetailed by "the farmhouse" -- a kind of Yeti Cooler simulacra of rural America peddled to the populace by Toll Brothers and HGTV.

Now, we're fully in the era of whatever this is. Whitewashed, quasi-modern, vaguely farmhouse-esque, definitely McMansion. We have reached, in a way, peak color and formal neutrality to the point where even the concept of style has no teeth. At a certain moment in its life cycle, styles in vernacular architecture reach their apex, after which they seem excessively oversaturated and ubiquitous. Soon, it's time to move on. After all, no one builds houses that look like this anymore:

(This is almost a shame because at least this house is mildly interesting.)

If we return to the basic form of both houses, they are essentially the same: a central foyer, a disguised oversized garage, and an overly complex assemblage of masses, windows, and rooflines. No one can rightfully claim that we no longer live in the age of the McMansion. The McMansion has instead simply become more charmless and dull.

When HGTV and the Gaineses premiered Fixer Upper in 2013, it seemed almost harmless. Attractive couple flips houses. Classic show form. However, Fixer Upper has since (in)famously ballooned into its own media network, a product line I'm confronted with every time I go to Target, and a general 2010s cultural hallmark not unlike the 1976 American Bicentennial - both events after which every house and its furnishings were somehow created in its image. (The patriotism, aesthetic and cultural conservatism of both are not lost on me.)

But there's one catch: Fixer Upper is over, and after the Gaineses, HGTV hasn't quite figured out where to go stylistically. With all those advertisers, partners, and eyeballs, the pressure to keep one foot stuck in the rural tweeness that sold extremely well was great. At the same time, the network (and the rest of the vernacular design media) couldn't risk wearing out its welcome. The answer came in a mix of rehashed, overly neutral modernism -- with a few pops of color, yet this part often seems omitted from its imitators -- with the prevailing "farmhouse modern" of Magnolia™ stock. The unfortunate result: mega-ultra-greige.

Aside from war-mongering, rarely does the media manufacture consent like it does in terms of interior design. People often ask me: Why is everything so gray? How did we get here? The answer is because it is profitable. Why is it profitable? I'd like to hypothesize several reasons. The first is as I mentioned: today's total neutrality is an organic outgrowth of a previous but slightly different style, "farmhouse modern," that mixed the starkness of the vernacular farmhouse with the soft-pastel Pinterest-era rural signifiers that have for the last ten years become ubiquitous.

Second, neutrals have always been common and popular. It's the default choice if you don't have a vision for what you want to do in a space. In the 2000s, the neutrals du jour were "earth tones" - beige, sage green, brown. Before that, it was white walls with oak trim in the 80s and 90s. In the 70s, neutrals were textural: brick and wood paneling. We have remarkably short memories when it comes to stylistic evolution because in real time it feels incremental. Such is the case with neutrals.

Finally, the all-gray palette is the end logic of HGTV et al's gamified methodology of designing houses with commodification in mind: if you blow out this wall, use this color, this flooring, this cabinetry, the asking price of your house goes up. You never want to personalize too much because it's off-putting to potential buyers. After twenty years of such rhetoric, doesn't it make all the sense in the world that we've ended up with houses that are empty, soulless, and gray?

A common realtor adage is to stage the house so that potential buyers can picture their own lives in it. In other words, create a tabula rasa one can project a fantasy of consumption onto. Implied in that logic is that the buyer will then impose their will on the house. But when the staged-realtor-vision and general-mass-market aesthetic of the time merge into a single dull slurry, we get a form of ultra-neutral that seems unwelcoming if not inescapable.

To impose one's style on the perfect starkness is almost intimidating, as though one is fouling up something untouchable and superior. If neutrality makes a house sell, then personality - at all - can only be seen as a detriment. Where does such an anti-social practice lead us? Back to the house that may or may not exist.

In my travels as McMansion Hell, I've increasingly been confronted with houses full of furniture that isn't real. This is known as virtual staging and it is to house staging as ChatGPT is to press release writing or DALL-E is to illustration. As this technology improves, fake sofa tables are becoming more and more difficult to discern from the real thing. I'm still not entirely sure which of the things in these photos are genuine or rendered. To walk through this house is to question reality.

Staging ultimately pretends (sometimes successfully, sometimes not) that someone is living in this house, that you, too could live in it. Once discovered, virtual staging erases all pretensions: the house is inhabited by no one. It is generally acknowledged (though I'm not sure on the actual statistics) that a house with furniture - that is, with the pretense of living -- sells easier than a house with nothing in it, especially if that house (like this one) has almost no internal walls. Hence the goal is to make the virtual staging undiscoverable.

If you want to talk about the realtor's tabula rasa, this is its final form. Houses without people, without human involvement whatsoever.

But what makes this particular house so uncanny is that all of these things I've mentioned before: real estate listing photography, completely dull interiors and bland colors all make it easy for the virtual furniture to work so well. This is because the softness of overlit white and gray walls enables the fuzzy edges of the renderings to look natural when mixed with an overstylized reality. Even if you notice something's off in the reflections, that's enough to cause one to wonder if anything in the house is real: the floors, the fixtures, the moulding, the windows and doors.

This is where things are heading: artifice on top of artifice on top of artifice. It's cheap, it's easy. But something about it feels like a violation. When one endeavors to buy a house, one assumes what one is viewing is real. It's one thing if a realtor photoshops a goofy sunset, it's another to wonder if anything in a room can be touched with human hands. I won't know what, if any, part of this estate costing over 2 million dollars actually exists until I visit it myself. Perhaps that's the whole point - to entice potential buyers out to see for themselves. When they enter, they'll find the truth: a vast, empty space with nothing in it.

The better this rendering technology gets, the more it will rely on these totally neutral spaces because everything matches and nothing is difficult. You are picking from a catalog of greige furniture to decorate greige rooms. If you look at virtual staging in a non-neutral house it looks immediately plastic and out of place, which is why many realtors opt to either still stage using furniture or leave the place empty.

Due to the aforementioned photography reasons, I would even argue that the greigepocalypse or whatever you want to call it and virtual staging have evolved simultaneously and mutualistically. The more virtual staging becomes an industry standard, the more conditions for making it seamless and successful will become standardized as well.

After all, real staging is expensive and depends on paid labor - selecting furniture, getting workers to deliver and stage it, only to pack it back up again once the property is sold. This is a classic example of technology being used to erase entire industries. Is this a bad thing? For freelance and contract workers, yeah. For realtors? no. For real estate listings, it remains to be seen. For this blog? Absolutely. (Thankfully there is an endless supply of previously existing McMansions.)

The thing is, real estate listings no longer reflect reality. (Did they ever to begin with?) The reason we're all exasperated with greige is because none of us actually live that way and don't want to. I've never been to anyone's house that looks like the house that may or may not exist. Even my parents who have followed the trends after becoming empty nesters have plenty of color in their house. Humans like color. Most of us have lots of warmth and creativity in our houses. Compare media intended for renters and younger consumers such as Apartment Therapy with HGTV and you will find a stark difference in palate and tone.

But when it comes to actually existing houses - look at Zillow and it's greige greige greige. So who's doing this? The answer is real estate itself aided by their allies in mass media who in turn are aided by the home renovation industry. In other words, it's the people who sell home as a commodity. That desire to sell has for some time overpowered all other elements that make up a home or an apartment's interiority to the point where we've ended up in a colorless slurry of real and unreal.

Fortunately, after ten years or so, things begin to become dated. We're hitting the ten year mark of farmhouse modernism and its derivatives now. If you're getting sick of it, it's normal. The whole style is hopefully on its last leg. But unlike styles of the past, there's a real, trenchant material reason why this one is sticking around longer than usual.

Hence, maybe if we want the end of greige, we're going to have to take color back by force.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including extra posts and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar, because media work is especially recession-vulnerable.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Saab Elbil Prototype, 1976. An electric van that started life as a project by ElectroMotion of Lexington, Massachusetts. The fuel crisis of 1973 had inspired interest in alternative fuel vehicles and ElectroMotion set out to create an electric delivery van for the U.S. Postal Service. They formed a collaboration with Saab US whose headquarters were nearby ElectroMotion's. Alas the US company went bankrupt without selling a single vehicle so Saab took over the project. They saw potential for the vehicle in the US but also in their home market in Sweden. The Saab version used many components from the Saab 99 and was even referred to the Saab 99 Electric Van however as the fuel crisis eased interest waned and the project never developed beyond a single prototype. It now resides in the Saab Car Museum in Trollhättan (Sweden).

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

U2 - Sunday Bloody Sunday

[quiltofstars]

The Orion Nebula (M42, center) and De Mairan's Nebula (M43, lower left) // FLORENCIO RODIL POSADA

[mariocki]

The Cheap Detective (1978)

"Mr. Peckinpaugh? You look startled."

"Oh, no, it's just that, uh, you look like fourteen other dames that was here the other night."

"Yes, I know. They were my sister."

"Well, that explains the resemblance."

"Not to me. She was adopted."

"Yeah, well, so am I, but I don't look like your sister either."

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Me, after doing 15 minutes of excessive googling on every Batfam member's birthday only to then realize I've accidentally missed the majority of them this year, and then also finding out that people are still aggressively debating over whether Bruce's birthday is April 7 or February 19, Dick's birthday happens 3-6x throughout the year, and Stephanie might have just popped into existence for all that DC cares:

Batfam birthday dates btw for anyone who needs them are listed beneath the cut:

DISCLAIMER: DC is notorious for being super inconsistent with everything and I am a mere tadpole caught in the tidal wave of DC's ocean. This post will be regularly updated with edits and corrections so please do not use it as word of law, I am begging you.

Update (8/24/23): To keep things more simple and easier for everyone I am going to start categorizing the birth dates I've collected into 3 categories.

-Most popular: Self-explanatory. These are the birth dates that have been canonized and confirmed by DC and are also more wildly celebrated by the fandom. Typically, this should be the first result you see when you google the character's birthday. But not always because DC sucks ass.

-Other date(s): These are the additional birth dates I come across that have been canonized in some form with multiple sources, but are not as wildly celebrated or popularized by DC and/or the fandom. Why am I including them here? Mostly because I don't want people coming in saying I forgot a date. But also because if I have to see this mess, then y'all have too as well.

-Potential but unconfirmed date(s): This is where I will put all the other additional dates I find, but specifically those that are lacking in complete sources or seem to be highly debated and scrutinized.

Also fun emoji ranking guide for me and me alone:

👑👑: Queen Shit. Characters with a consistent and simple birth date(s). Can absolutely do no wrong.

👑😮‍💨: In the Running. Characters who don't have a set birth date, but the mess is minor and completely DC's fault. They shouldn't have to be punished for DC's crimes.

🤡🤡: Gtfo. Shit is so inconsistent and stupidly messy that it's making me lose my shit. I'm putting DC and the characters on trial for this bullshit.

👑Alfred Pennyworth👑

Most popular: August 16

Other date(s): April 8 and March 31

(I think it'd be hella cute if Jason and Alfred shared a bday. But if you keep scrolling through the rest of the list, you'll see that August is kind of an overcrowded bday month for the Batfam.

Depending on what you prefer, though, I still think Alfred's worth being celebrated. Lord knows he deserves a special day for himself)

(Update ((8/24/23)): No big inconsistencies between these dates. I just thought it would be fun to provide some info on why Alfred has two canonical birthdates.

So the reason August 16 is viewed as the most popular is for two main reasons. One, obviously, is that he shares a birth date with Jason Todd. So many fans latch onto this date because of how sweet it is for them to share a birthday together.

The second reason has to do with the origin of the birth date. This is because of the more recent retcon that was made by the prequel comic to the Injustice: Gods Among Us video game that was published in 2013. There is a panel in the comic that shows Alfred's birth certificate in full detail from his full name, his place of birth, etc.

As for April 8, this specific date technically has more history compared to August 16. Fans will cite that April 8 was the official date selected by DC according to their Super DC Calendar back in 1976 (which btw was made in 1975).

Compared to August 16 and April 8, however, March 31 oddly enough isn't that popular or recognized by DC or the majority of the fandom. The reason March 31 does come up is because March 31, 1943 was the date when Alfred made his first appearance in the comics, one day after Bruce/Batman)

🤡Bruce Wayne🤡: Hey. Hey, DC, look at me. Bitch.

Most popular: February 19 or April 7

Other date(s): April 25, May 27, March 30, "October," October 7, and "November"

(It looks like most people go with February 19, but don't come at me if you're a April 7 truther. I'm just existing)

(Update ((8/20/23)): I'm gonna shoot somebody. So after doing a little bit more research, I came across-you'd never guess it-even more conflicting info on when Bruce's birthday is supposed to take place.

While April 7 and February 19 are still popular days for fans to celebrate Batman's bday, March 30 is also considered a popular date due to March 30, 1939 being the day Detective Comics #27 ((the issue Batman debuted in)) was put on shelves.

HOWEVER, even Batman's debut is contested to actually be May 27, 1939 because despite the fact that Detective Comics #27 first appeared to the public on March 30, 1939, the cover issue depicted May 27, 1939 instead.

This is because it was a popular practice for comics publication houses to falsify their cover dates as a way to give the impression that the latest issue was newer than it actually was. So if you really, really wanna get super fucking technical about it ((and I know there are some of you out there who do)), Batman may have debuted on March 30, but the cover-issue date was May 27 so, yes, I guess Bruce could have been a May baby instead.

I hate it here.

Oh, and to make matters more complicated, let's discuss the issue of April 7 vs April 25. So the reason April 7 is a popular bday for Bruce is because the original 1930-40s run just outright stated that April 7 was his birthday. Simple enough.

So what does April 25 have to do with this? Well, that's because technically-I think I hate that word now btw-Batman didn't get his own solo comic until April 25, 1940. If you want to go by April 25 because of this logic, however, that means that you'd have to share Bruce's birthday with the Joker. Because guess what? That's also the exact date that the Joker debuted.

I'm personally not a huge fan of Bruce and the Joker sharing a bday. Mostly just because the dates are clearly already complicated enough. But also I feel like April 25 is just known as the Joker's bday at this point, at least in the DC fandom. And Bruce has so many options at this point that it'd be kinda silly to make them share a bday.

As for the "sometime in October" and "sometime in November" additions, we have Batman The Animated Series and Frank Miller's "Batman: Year One" to thank for those extremely vague options.

BTAS Bruce states that his birthday is "sometime in October" and "Batman: Year One" Bruce is responsible for "sometime in November." I repeat: I hate it here.

So when is Bruce's actual birthday? Well, the latest change that DC has "officially" made was the February 19 retcon during the 1970-80s. When a fan sent a question into Detective Comics about Bruce's birthday, the answer given was "February 19" in the letter column. Issue #494, to be exact.

And the reason this answer was given? Because the Super DC Calender for 1976 (again made in 1975) said so.

However, there are still people who prefer to celebrate his bday on April 7 or March 30 instead. And there's also a question floating around if the New 52 run could potentially retcon Bruce's bday AGAIN at some point in the future.

I. Hate. It. Here.

Personally, I liked February 19 because then Alfred could maybe have the month of April to himself. But after seeing all this new info, I'm just sort of resigned to whichever date that the fandom prefers. Y'all can decide. I don't have any energy left.

Also, I can't believe I have to accuse Bruce of having possibly taught Dick his bday scam. Just .... wow).

(Update ((8/24/23)): Well, DC did it to me again. I found this extra little tidbit while googling the Super DC Calendar for Alfred, actually.

So Issue #10 of the 2021 Legends of the Dark Knight decided to give the BTAS's "sometime in October" an actual sometime.

How do I feel about yet another Bruce Wayne bday retcon? Honestly, I think I'm moving closer and closer to just a bland state of acceptance at this point. Tbh, I don't think all these retcons actually matter that much in the end. DC is gonna keep being DC.

Which is annoying. But Idk I'm personally gonna stick with February 19. No shade to you if you prefer any of the other dates. I just like February 19 more than the others)

👑Kate Kane👑

Most popular: March 21

Other date(s): January 26

(So ... where to start to with this one?

Well the official DC canon birth date for Kate Kane is listed as March 21. That being said, if you were to google Kate's birthday right now, you might be confused because that's not the first result that comes up.

Instead, you'll be greeted with January 26, 1990.

So what gives? If there's already an official DC approved birth date, then why the fuck is January 26 coming up all of a sudden?

Well, folks, you have the CW's Batwoman to thank.

Tbh I was very confused as to how I completely missed that there was an entire Batwoman TV show in the first place.

Apparently the show is considered a part of the CW Arrowverse (in reference to the CW show Arrow featuring Oliver Queen, for those of you who need extra info) and ran for 3 whole seasons before being cancelled on April 9, 2022.

And they gave us actual canon lesbian Kate Kane rep. I mean, she is a lesbian. But yeah. CW actually acknowledged her sexual orientation. So kudos for doing the bare minimum?????

Anyway, I guess the showrunners just decided they wanted Kate's birthday to be on January 26 instead of March 21??? Idk if this was supposed to be a reference or an homage to Cassandra Cain's birthday. I doubt it, but who knows?)

🤡Dick Grayson🤡: Greedy bitch who keeps lying about his birthday so he can scam people into giving him more presents jk jk

Most popular: "On the first day of spring" (bruh) or March 20/21

Other date(s): March 6, "April," October 24 (aka "the week before Halloween"), November 11 and December 1

Potential but unconfirmed date(s): June 24

(Dick's canon bday seems to be influx. March 6, March 20, March 21, November 11, June 24, December 1, and so on. I did see multiple sources state Dick was born "on the first day of spring." I'm unclear atm about whether this is a fanon take or if it was actually stated in a particular comic at some point.

As far as I'm concerned, Dick just keeps lying about his birthday for the lols)

(Update ((8/24/23)): Well, guess what I found, folks?

It's a return visit from our favorite friend, the Super DC Calendar of 1976. And according to it, Dick's birthday should be November 11.

You can also thank the Young Justice comic for the confusion surrounding Dick's bday being on December 1.

Also, I found this post by @theflyingwonder that helps clear up a LOT of the mess surrounding Dick's ever changing birth date. Honestly, amazing work and extra kudos to them for putting all the work in and finding all the sources. I just wished I had found their post earlier, holy shit.

And if you have some extra time, please give some love to @inkydandy for their hilarious and very sweet comic about all the confusion that comes with Dick's bday)

(Update ((8/25/23)): Many thanks to @poisoned-ivy for clearing up even more of the mess surrounding Dick's bday. I went ahead and took a screenshot of their response to my old "Which date is Dick's canon bday?" poll.

They also provided a link to the DC Universe Calendar which was lovingly compiled from the original 1976 Super DC Calendar and then put together by the people who run the Five Earths Project .

Also found out from them today that October 24 is one of Dick's bdays ((at least for Post-Crisis Dick Grayson)). So that was a fun new discovery!

They were also very helpful in helping me realize that the original article I had found that stated "sometime in April" was actually in reference to Dick Grayson's first appearance in the comics, which was April 1940.

So, yes, "sometime in April" is technically--again I hate this word so much now--still a valid candidate for Dick's bday. And before you ask: Detective Comics #38 was actually published on March 6, 1940.

Hence why people will cite March 6 as Dick's canon bday instead.

This project got a lot bigger than I ever expected it to ... god)

👑Barbara Gordon👑: September 23

👑Jason Todd👑: August 16

👑Cassandra Cain👑: January 26

👑Tim Drake👑: July 19

👑Stephanie Brown😮‍💨: She emerged from the void with the sole purpose of dragging Bruce's ass to hell and back. Nothing can stop her. We all exist in her world now.

Potential but unconfirmed date(s): June 23, "August," or August 11

(For real, though, some peeps will say June 23 since the month she officially debuted in the comics was June 1992.

But I've also seen August 1992 listed as her bday month as well--lot of August babies in the Batfam, huh--but I haven't found June 23 specifically listed as her canon bday, either. It honestly feels like the fans are putting in more work than DC at this point. Which, like, I'm not surprised. Just disappointed)

(Update ((8/24/23)): Someone mentioned August 11 as a potential birth date, but I have yet to see an actual source that specifically states this. If I do find one, I'll edit this section. Figured I should put it here just in case, though)

👑Duke Thomas👑: August 13

👑Damian Wayne👑: August 9

👑Terry McGinnis😮‍💨

Most popular: August 18

Other date(s): June 27 or August 10

Potential but unconfirmed date(s): September 19 (fml)

(Yes, I'm including Terry, fuck you lol

Also SERIOUSLY WTF is up with so many of these August birthdays!!!! Fuck, was everyone just getting crazy BUSY in November!!!! What's going on in the DC universe that is making November of all months the HORNY MONTH????!!!!)

(Mini update ((8/18/23)): Well, I just found out that apparently June 27th 2023 is also a highly debated birth date for Terry. As is August 10 2023/2024 and August 18 2023/2024. I even saw a mention of September 19 2023, but I don't know how credible that source actually is. I'm just putting it here because I'm losing my mind and I don't want someone to pop in and say I forgot it omfg I'm dying

I'm just ... why? Why is it so hard to just commit to one month and one date. I'm not even concerned about the exact year. Just commit to ONE, man.

Excuse me while I march over to DC HQ and burn the whole place to the ground iswtfg)

Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong on any of these. I have a massive headache now and am open to any suggestions or clarifications y'all have to offer.

Also, I'm going to fist fight Dick in a Denny's parking lot.

Update (8/17/23): So a mini post that I meant to use as a way to vent how insane Dick was making me somehow blew up way more than I ever expected it to, and now I feel obligated to clarify again that I am open to any corrections and additional info that anyone has to offer.

I'm saying this because I've noticed people reblogging this post for actual Batfam bday references and someone already pointed out I fucked up Tim's bday and now I feel bad for everyone who reblogged this post prior to that edit.

It's probably just the anxiety talking, but yeah I just wanted to put that out there.

Also justice for Stephanie Brown! She deserves to have her own special day and if I have to bully DC into giving her a canon birthday, then you bet your ass I fucking will.

(And to all of y'all who are encouraging Dick to keep running his side scam business, I just have this to say: There's an empty Denny's parking lot somewhere out there just waiting for you, too lol)

[determinate-negation]

Hi! sorry to bother you but I would like to understand the links between liberal democracy, capitalism, and fascism and was wondering if you could talk about it more or suggest some readings around it, thank you so much.

blackshirts and reds by michael parenti is probably the best introduction to some of these concepts imo, its not the most historically detailed tho. libgen link here

palmiro togliatti's lectures on fascism are about the role of the liberal parliamentary system in setting the grounds for fascism in italy, it also has some lectures on characteristics of fascist propaganda and tactics

this is a bit of a tome and i havent read the whole thing although im familiar with the argument, but the weimar republic: the crisis of classical modernity by detlev peukurt illustrates some of the contradictions in liberal democracy and modernity that lead towards fascism. herbert marcuse's essays on technology war and fascism are also pretty good

and not to self promote but i posted some essays i wrote on italian fascism and its relation to capitalist markets and commodities, and fascisms relation to imperialist economic policy. the references in my bibliography might be useful

also gonna link @estrellasrojas essay from a while back on fascism

[commodorez]

Cactus fascinates me, does it run on code similar to an existing instruction set or is it completely original on that front?

What can you do with it? What's it's storage?

Both the Cactus (the original wooden prototype from years ago) and the new PCB Cactus(es) are essentially derived from a minimal 6502 computer design by Grant Searle for their core logic. Here's what that would look like on a breadboard:

There isn't much to it, it's 32K of RAM, 16K of ROM containing Ohio Scientific's version of Microsoft BASIC, a 6850 ACIA for serial interaction, some logic gates, and of course a 6502 microprocessor (NMOS or CMOS, doesn't matter which). You hook it into a terminal and away you go.

Grant's design in turn can be best described as a distilled, modernized version of the OSI Challenger series of computers. Here's an OSI-400 and a Challenger 4P respectively:

The left one is a replica of the 400 circa 1976, also called the Superboard. It was affordable, endlessly reconfigurable and hackable, but ultimately very limited in capabilities. No BASIC, minimal monitor ROM you talk to over serial, but you could connect it to a bus to augment its features and turn it into a more powerful computer.

Whereas the OSI C4P on the right from about 1979 has more RAM, a video card, keyboard, BASIC built in, serial interface, cassette tape storage, and that's just the standard configuration. There was more room to expand and augment it to your needs inside the chassis (alot changed in 3 years for home computer users).

Grant's minimal 6502 design running OSI BASIC is a good starter project for hobbyists. I learned about the 6502's memory map decoding from his design. I modified and implemented his design on a separate cards that could connect to a larger backplane.

Here are the serial, ROM, RAM, and CPU cards respectively:

Each one is 100% custom, containing many modifications and fixes as I developed the design. However, that's only half of the computer.

I really wanted a 6502 machine with a front panel. People told me "nobody did that", or couldn't think of examples from the 1970s but that seemed really strange to me. Especially since I had evidence to the contrary in the form of the OSI-300:

This one I saw at VCF West back in 2018 illustrates just how limited of a design it is. 128 bytes of RAM, no ROM, no serial -- just you, the CPU, and toggle switches and LEDs to learn the CPU. I was inspired the first time I saw one in 2015 at VCF East, which is probably when this whole project got set in motion.

Later that year I bought a kit for a miniature replica OSI-300 made by Christopher Bachman, and learned really quickly how limited the design philosophy for this particular front panel was. It was a major pain in the ass to use (to be clear, that's by OSI's choice, not any fault of Christopher in his implementation)

So... I designed my own. Took awhile, but that's the core of what the Cactus is: my attempt at experiencing the 1970s homebrew scene by building the computer I would have wanted at the time. Over half of the logic in the Cactus is just to run the front panel's state machine, so you can examine and modify the contents of memory without bothering the 6502. I added in all of the things I liked from more advanced front panels I had encountered, and designed it to my liking.

Here's the original front panel, accompanying logic, and backplane connected to the modern single board computer (SBC) version of the machine:

And here's the new Cactus SBC working with the new front panel PCB, which combines the logic, physical switch mountings, and cabling harnesses into a single printed circuit board.

So, what can you do with it? Pretty much the same things I do already with other contemporary 1970s computers: play around in BASIC, fire up the occasional game, and tinker with it.

I've got no permanent storage designed for the Cactus as yet, it's been one of those "eventually" things. The good news is that a variety of software can be ported to the hardware without too much trouble for an experienced hobbyist. A friend of mine wrote a game called ZNEK in 6502 assembly which runs from a terminal:

Right now, you have to either toggle in machine programs from the front panel from scratch, burn a custom ROM, or connect it to a serial terminal to gain access to its more advanced features:

Here's it booted into OSI BASIC, but I have also added in a modern descendant of Steve Wozniak's WOZMON software for when I need to do lower level debugging.

I've also got a video card now, based on the OSI-440. I have yet to implement a keyboard, or modify BASIC to use the video board instead of the serial connection. Even if I did, screen resolution is pretty limited at 24x24 characters on screen at once. Still, I'm working on that...

Anyway, I hope that answers your question. Check the tags below to see the whole process stretching back to 2017 if you're curious to learn more of the project's history. I'm also happy to answer any more questions you might have about the project.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Klaatu - We're Off You Know 1977

Klaatu was a Canadian rock group formed in 1973. They named themselves after an ambassador, Klaatu, from an extraterrestrial confederation who visits Earth with his companion robot Gort in the film The Day the Earth Stood Still. In Canada, the band is remembered for several hits, including "California Jam" (1974), "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft" (1976) and "Knee Deep in Love" (1980). Internationally, the group's pop-influenced style of progressive rock has led to them being known as the "Canadian Beatles".

In 1977, a rumour started that Klaatu's 1976 debut studio album 3:47 EST could actually be a release by a secretly reunited Beatles recording under a pseudonym. These rumours were fueled by a number of factors, including the fact that their album was released by Capitol Records (also the Beatles' label in North America), the lack of artist and producer credits or photographs in the album packaging, Klaatu's avoidance of public performances, and the fact that the group's vocal and musical style was reminiscent of the Beatles. Capitol Records tried to make as much of the rumours as possible, by issuing ambiguously worded statements that failed to make the band's identity entirely clear.

Hope is Klaatu's second studio album and their first concept album. Released in September 1977, it won a Juno Award for Best Engineered Album and a Canadian Music Critics award for Best Album that same year. The album follows the loose concept of space travelers visiting a distant planet. An alternate version of Hope was released in 2005 as part of the group's Sun Set collection of rarities. The alternate version on Sun Set includes the complete contributions of the London Symphony Orchestra, which had largely been removed from the original version. Hope was remastered and re-issued in 2012 by the band's members, and was released on the band's independent record label Klaatunes.

"We're Off You Know" received a total of 67,3% yes votes!