#technocolor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ibviously · 4 months ago

Text

Kryptonite

Summary: Kara returns to Gotham and finds the Red Hood in the likeliest of places. Kara addresses Gotham’s villains in the unlikeliest of ways.

Characters/Pairings: Kara Zor-El x Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner x Kara Zor-El, Rose Wilson x Jason Todd

Warnings: sexual content (18+), graphic depictions of violence, pretentious analysis of 19th century art (sorry not sorry)

Jason grinned when he saw the bouncer, leaning in languid calm against the Ice Berg Lounge’s front entrance.

Rose dropped her menthol from her open mouth and laughed. Her single blue eye shone from under the dim street lights, the other covered by a black patch. Alone, she looked like she might’ve been waiting for someone, a lover, or a best friend. This late into the night, when the void of sky tilted into sunrise and the early AM ticked into business hours, nobody waited to enter the club. The thick, red velvet ropes hung still.

“Well fuck me,” Rose spoke plumes of smoke between them, “Back from the dead again?”

A smirk quirked on Jason’s lips. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and looked at the greased-stained asphalt. “Something like that.”

“You look like shit. The suit’s nice though- on loan from Daddy Wayne?”

Jason shook his head and reached out his hand. Registering the request, Rose pushed off the wall and passed her cigarette. Jason took a drag, then another. He knew he’d return the suit to Bruce smelling of smoke, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t had a Marlboro or seen Rose Wilson in a very long time. Tonight was a night of reunion.

After Jason exhaled his third drag and let it swirl, eddying in the hot summer air like oil in the ocean, he handed the nub back to Rose. “First off,” Jason cleared his throat, “don’t call Bruce ‘Daddy Wayne’.” A wicked grin from Rose. God- he had missed her. “Second, I need you to let me in and tell me where 44 Below is.”

Rose’s grin dropped. She pulled the frayed edges of her dark jacket over her hands and sulked down into the fabric. Her pale skin stretched taunt over her cheekbones and she was smaller than Jason remembered. He felt a dull tug of worry in his chest.

“So you are on an errand for Bruce,” Rose sighed, resuming her position on the wall. “You’re here to bid on a painting or crack some skulls?”

Jason shifted on the balls of his feet. Dick’s dress shoes were a half size too small. “The former.. but you never can be sure,” Jason amended.

Rose chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating. “You know,” her words came out thin, “I was pretty pissed when I heard the Joker got to you again- that you might be dead.”

“Yeah?” Jason spoke dark and soft, trying to coax her gaze back up to meet his eyes. “How’s that?”

As if Jason’s gentle tone had spooked her from her pensive trance- Rose straighten her back, the blanket of grief quickly shrugged from around her small body. “I was just thinking, well- fuck, I never got to tap that.”

A bark of a laugh ripped from Jason’s throat. He stopped himself, bringing a hand to his mouth. The streets were so quiet his laughter echoed like gunfire. A self-satisfied smirk from Rose. “I’m serious, Mr. Todd, don’t be a stranger. You’re gonna wish you spent more time with me when you actually do die.”

Jason nodded, surrendering to her jest. “So, are you gonna help me or do I have to go use some directive violence?”

Rose shook her head and turned, pushing on the doors of the lounge. A slice of technocolor light cut into the night, flashing red, green, blue, white. The boom of music and layered conversations flooded over Jason. He felt it, shooting up his legs and rumbling in his chest.

“Stay with me,” Rose shouted over her shoulder, “we’re gonna move quick.”

Kara took another swig of wine and held it, let the heady liquid weight on her tongue. She swallowed, registering the burn that bloomed at the back of her throat. The woman who had poured her glass called it a “good red.” Humans said the strangest things.

Feigning interest in the clusterfuck of black and white splatters that hung lifeless in front of her, Kara contemplated the phrase. Had she ever encountered a “good red”? There was the stray speckling of blood that always made its way onto her face, her knuckles, under her fingernails-after every fight. There was the red of Kal’s cape as he turned his back on her. The red glare of stoplights on the perpetually wet Gotham pavement. It was always raining here. Then there was Jason.

Under the dim lights, the wine looked black. It clung in viscous streaks to the clear walls. Kara shivered under the thin silk of her dress. In two swallows, Kara drained her glass. She wished she could get drunk. Determined, she turned for another, grasping at the silver tray of the nearest attendant. Her Kryptonian tolerance wouldn’t stop her from trying. Kara strode to the next exhibit.

The black expanse of Kyle Rayner’s suit jacket swirled before Kara as she approached- a hungry void. “Got something to forget?” Kyle quipped, his gaze never wavering from the full-scale landscape before them. Kara could see his smirk from the corner of her eye. His brown hair curled at his forehead. His face was clean-shaven.

“Figured I’d let loose and let you take the lead on this one,” Kara murmured into the rim of her glass.

Kara had been irritated when the Metropolis Museum of Fine Art had requested Rayner accompany her to the Lounge’s annual auction. That hot anger had cooled over the course of the first few hours. Kyle was competent- amicable, even. Now, the only anger that lingered was Kara’s placement in Gotham’s most infamous club; a club routinely littered with Batpersons. Not even a month after Kara had sworn off working in Gotham, she was ordered into its beating heart.

Kyle’s eyes, a light-honey brown, lit with interest. He liked this one.

“This is the one?,” Kara asked, turning her gaze away from the way Rayner’s eyelashes kissed his skin when he blinked. She nearly lost her breath.

The painting filled the entirety of her vision. It was clearly a parody- a remake of Alma-Tadema’s The Roses of Heliogabalus. All of the original’s carnal opulence was intact- but the figures were changed. Instead of Roman diners, adorned in silks and laurels, drowning in a seal of rose petals, it was Commissioner Gordon. And The Powers’s, proprietors of the Powers Hotel. Three anonymous, male GCPD officers reached out from under the petals- their faces contorted in fear. Centered, sat at a table laden for feast, were Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor. The tide of roses brushed the hems of their pristine pant legs. They looked down in distaste.

His eyes scanned in erratic strokes over the expanse. Finally, he turned to Kara. “This is the one.”

Before Kara could agree, a wave of nausea pulled itself over her body. The room spun. The edges of her vision blurred- stretching the lights of the dance floor below. Colors flowed into one another. A gauzy, warm glow emanated from Kyle’s concerned face.

Kara knew something was wrong when she began to hallucinate. Behind Kyle stood Jason- clad in a suit, striding straight for her.

The seconds began to contort and bleed as they passed. Kara was staggering backwards, cold fear shooting through her at the progression of Jason’s apparition. She heard Kyle’s voice and felt his hand, warm as it wrapped itself around her bicep.

“Kara- hey! Are you okay?” Kara heard Kyle as if from underwater. The room spun. A warm tingle spread across her skin. The room spun. Kara giggled. “Jesus, Danvers,” Kyle’s breath tickled her neck- he must’ve been behind her. “I didn’t know you were this much of a lightweight.”

“That’s not,” Kara huffed, her vision recentered and stabilized on Kyle’s face in front of her, “that’s not my last name.” Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. “Where did J-Jason go?” Kara slurred.

Her words seemed to stretch with the room- the sound and the space reaching in tandem into infinity. Bruce’s image, painted into immortality, seemed to grin down from the feast, wolfish and cold. Kara felt a sharp pain in her skull- and then nothing.

Jason looked down at Kara’s unconscious body, crammed in the basin of a bathtub, and thought better of taking a picture. The young man glaring at him from the corner of the bathroom would disapprove.

“So,” Jason prodded, “what’s your deal?”

The man, Kyle, was pacing. Or trying to. The three of them were crammed in one of the club’s few person restrooms- one Rose had located for them. Now, she stood outside the door, keeping watch until Kara decided to wake up.

“My deal?” Kyle gave another incredulous glare. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to assume the worst?”

Jason grinned and widened the spread of his thighs- taking up as much space as possible from his position on the toilet. He knew what this looked like. Kara passed out, two strangers come and scoop her up. Jason knew enough of Gotham’s grimy places to know things like that happened. Often. But not to Kara. Supergirl didn’t get roofied.

A couple of glasses of wine or any man-made drug wouldn’t- couldn’t- put her on her ass. That worried Jason. He tried not to let his perplexity surface on his expression. They didn’t need two dudes freaking out over Kara’s limp body.

“And what exactly is ‘the worst’?” Jason tilted his head, eyeing the man who leaned against the wall across from him. Kyle fidgeted, but didn’t drop his gaze.

Kyle groaned, running a palm over his face.

When he as met either another groan, Jason continued his barrage of rhetorical questioning. “Do you know who I am?” Jason cast a curt nod towards Kara’s unconscious body. “Who she is?”

“Is that how all you fucking Waynes introduce yourselves?” Kyle pushed himself from the grimy tile of the wall, looking down upon Jason, who couldn’t slacken the shit-eating grin that split his face. “ ‘Do you know who I am’- how about you fuck right off and let me take Kara home.”

Jason leaned back, propping his hands to cradle his head. He ran his eyes up the length of Kyle’s body. He was young, probably around Dick’s age. The first creases of age shot out from the corners of his eyes, but the vitality of youth still lit his stare. He was broad-shouldered and tall. Jason guessed he used to be an athlete, maybe he even played in college. He was exactly the type that Kara should be spending her time with- and yet the sight of him irritated Jason. His skin felt hot and the need to move came over him. He stood up.

This room was too small. His shoes were too tight. Kara was pale and the strap of her dress was falling down her shoulder. The bass pounded like a fist against the door. The informant that Bruce asked him to meet tonight had to be waiting, or maybe he had been offended by Jason’s lack of punctuality and left.

Kara’s cough cut through Jason’s flurry of worry like a light-house’s beam in a dark harbor. No sooner had the sound left her mouth that Jason was crouched at the side of the tub, his hands steadying her shuddering shoulders. She convulsed in waves, dry heaving, the pale spill of her hair obstructing her face. Jason gathered it like corn silk in his hands and pulled it to the nape of her neck. Kyle’s presence was hot at his back- the tension in his body quivering like a taunt band.

When Kara’s fit stopped, and her tremors stilled, she cast her eyes to the men leaning towards her. Her eyes, Jason registered in terror, were aglow. Head radiated from them, warming Jason’s face. Her jaw was flexed, her eyebrows furrows. Fury became her.

“Hey,” Jason demanded, reaching to hold her jaw between his fingers. He forced her gaze on him, fronting the full force of the heat pouring from her eyes. “You’re okay, Kara, you’re okay.” He dropped his grip when the blue returned to her eyes.

Kara yanked her head back, fitting the palms of her hands into the sockets of her eyes. “Fuck,” she breathed. “Kyle- I… fuck.”

Kyle stood, ashen-faced and slack-jawed, behind Jason. Jason narrowed his eyes. How strange that fear did not register on his face- but awe.

Guilt pooled in Kara’s eyes as she look up at Kyle. “Do you think you can just be cool about this, while we get ourselves- well- while I get myself sorted.?” Kyle had regained his composure and now looked at Kara with a calculating curiosity. He nodded.

“Yeah,” his words came out in a whisper, “Yeah I can do that.”

The softness of guilt gave way to steeled contempt as Kara cast her eyes on Jason. Her lips parted, then came together again. She eyes his suit, his hair, the clean shaven expanse of his jaw. The smell of smoke and leather drifted off of him. Kara took a deep breath. “Kryptonite?” she asked, acutely aware of the goosebumps patterning her skin. The porcelain of the bathtub was ice through her dress.

Jason nodded. He balled his hands into fists to keep from pulling off his suit jacket. Kara was shivering.

“Unless you have any other allergies,” Jason drawled. Kara, despite herself, smirked at the quip.

Kara shook her head, using her arms to rise from the bathtub. She stepped out on wobbling feet as a wave of nausea poured onto her. An arm braced against her back and she didn’t need her vision to know it was Kyle. He smelled, consistently, of pine soap.

“Thanks,” Kara murmured, blinking away the spots in her vision.

“Don’t mention it,” Kyle huffed, tightening his grip to keep Kara upright. “You trust these guys?” he whispered into her neck, eyeing Jason.

“These guys?” Kara asked, meeting Kyle’s deep brown eyes- so heavy with worry.

In answer- a sharp nock on the bathroom door. A sinewy, silver-haired girl slipped from behind the door.

“Rose?” Jason prompted her.

The girl’s pale grey eyes matched her bloodless face. She was breathing heavily and slight sheen of sweat covered her skin. He words came out in gasps. “What did the blonde do to piss off Black Mask?”

Before the last syllable left Rose’s mouth, Kara whirled to face Kyle, bracing both hands on his shoulder. He frowned down at her, locks of dark, curling hair falling into his eyes. A question was poised on his lips, but he bit his tongue as Kara spoke. “I need you to go- call a car and go back to the hotel. Go back to Metropolis- immediately. I’ll tell the museum we bid on a couple pieces and are waiting to hear back.”

Kyle shook his head gently, incredulous objection lit his eyes. “Kara- you were poisoned. I’m not just gonna leave you, especially not with strangers.”

Jason, head bent over a cigarette, scoffed- exhaling smoke into the small space. “I’m not a stranger,” he took another drag, “and if shit goes south we don’t need another warm body to keep alive.”

A nod from Kyle. He might be suspicious, but he trusted Kara’s judgement. If she was comfortable with these people, then he could respect that. Kyle moved toward the door, thumbing in his pocket for the cool surface of his phone. The girl- Rose- smirked up at him as he angled his way past her. A hot draft ran through the hallway and the air felt sticky against his skin.

Kyle turned, his worried gaze trained on Kara. He just needed one last glance- one last look to make sure she was safe. Her hand was at her nose, wiping a trail of blood that had begun its descent down her face.

“Go,” she feigned a smile, a streak of red smeared to her cheek. “I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Kyle nodded, pushing into the trashing masses and flashing light.

Kara knew she was going to throw up. Her stomach rolled as she steadied herself against the bathroom countertop, white-knuckle gripping the marble surface.

“Sweet guy,” Rose mused from the corner. Her voice was low and gravely. Kara guessed she was a smoker. Her suspicion was confirmed when, from the corner of her eye, she watched Jason pass her his cigarette. She took a drag and watched Kara reel.

Kara heaved. The world spun.

“Kryptonite poised my entire planet,” Kara met her reflection’s stare and did not recognize herself. “My parents…neighbors…strangers- all of them.” She whirled towards Jason and Rose. Rage- acidic, corrosive, a green rage- ate at her from the inside out. “And this ‘Black Mask’ thought he could kill me with it?” Her words cut through the smoke.

Jason’s green eyes met hers. He looked surprised- an amalgamation of interest and perplexity painted his features. Maybe he wasn’t used to seeing Kara bleeding. Maybe he had never seen her angry.

Kara hated this. She hated Gotham. She hated the reverberation of the music through the bathroom walls.. She hated her dress- how it plastered itself against her body and held to her skin like paint. She felt naked and weak, standing here, reeling in front of this pair of humans that clearly knew more than her. She reached out her hand- demanding a turn with a cigarette. The smoke was sour and burned the back of her throat, but she inhaled anyways- focusing on the discomfort.

Kara smiled against the paper- it was almost comical how delicate she felt. She wondered how long it would last.

“Easy,” Jason spoke low, “that was my last one.” Kara handed it back and straightened her back.

“Who’s Black Mask?” she demanded.

Rose answered as she moved for the door. “Roman Sionis. Crime lord. Comes from a big Gotham family- cosmetics manufacturing, I think. What’s more important is that’s he’s a real sick fuck- I once heard that he peeled a guy’s face off in front of a mirror and then left him there. Faceless.”

Kara walked after Rose, moving her into the hallway. The light footsteps of those trained by Batman sounded behind her. Jason followed.

“The smart move would be to leave,” Jason said, shutting the door behind them. “Go home- regroup.”

Kara’s back tensed into a rigid line. “It’s a good thing you’ve never been one to do the smart thing. Where’s this guy at?” Red lights danced over her face.

Rose, bathed in red light, grinned at Kara. “His men were roaming the 44- I threw a few of them off your trail.”

“Kara…” Jason warned. He reached for her shoulder. Kara jerked forward, avoiding his touch. Jason’s calluses scraped over her skin. “I can’t help you if you go in there- I’m Bruce Wayne’s Jason Todd tonight. You, especially can’t go in there.”

In tandem with the strobing light- Kara whirled toward Jason- her face inches from his. Her breath smelled of wine and mint. Locks of pale hair framed her face, haloed by the acid-green that glowed from behind her. Her eyes dipped to his parted lips. “Thanks for looking out, Jason- but I got it from here.”

Jason rolled his eyes, ignoring the heat that flushed through his body at the acute pressure of Kara’s attention. She was so close that he could feel the warmth rolling of her skin and smell the perfume she had applied; jasmine, vetiver, and cream. He wanted to bury his head in the bend of her neck and inhale.

“You’re fucked,” Jason stated, letting his eyes roam down the planes of her waist.

Kara smirked. “I’m bulletproof.”

‘Black Mask’, Kara realized, was not the proper title for the man that sat in the long stretches of shadows, lounging in the betting booth at the back of the club. Roman Sionis wasn’t wearing a mask. His face was real- a mess of angular planes- like black, waxy flesh spread over canvas. She could see the gleam on his dark gums under the lowlight as she approached his table.

His thin lips spread to reveal white teeth as he registered her presence. The horrible whites of his eyes tracked the shift of her legs.

“And so the lamb wanders into the jaw-“ His words were cut short by the crunch of his nose against the green velvet of the gambling table. Kara had trouble finding a grip on his bald head. She groped at the tight skin as she yanked him back and raked his skull in a wide arc across the chips.

Shouting erupted in the lounge. Kara felt the wolves descend and grinned. She was feeling better. The rage still simmered in his chest. She pictured her mother’s face, so similar to her own, as she held her for the last time.

Heat bloomed behind her eyes and Kara let it rip from her- all the rage- funneled in beams that shot through the table.

“Tell me Kara-“ Black Mask gritted from beneath her hand- “When you leave this place- will you look back?” He grinned- thin-lipped and toothy- up at her. Kara threw her elbow into the men who launched themselves at her and didn’t stop for a long time.

Jason lost his breath when he saw Kara. Head hung, she stood in his doorway. A slow ooze of blood trickled from her eyebrow, making its way down the angle of her cheekbone, and settling in the bowl of her collarbone. Her lip was split- and bruises blossomed over every expanse of exposed skin.

She drew a labored breath. “I wont be here long- I just- I came to apologize. I had no business telling you how to behave yourself- I was never in the position to do that. So I’m sorry.”

“You’re bleeding,” Jason stated.

“And I’m sorry I took the bracelet- it was a gift and wasn’t mine to take.” Kara was wringing her hands. Her knuckles were split and purple.

“Did you kill anyone?” His words were gruff and so low Kara barely registered them. She shook her head. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence that widened between them. Kara exhaled. “What do you need, Kara?” Jason reached his hand out and took her chin in between his fingers. He tilted her gaze up- leading her toward his gaze for the second time tonight. “Is it really so hard to look at me?” His words were a smoke-thin whisper.

Tears spilled from Kara’s eyes and fell on Jason’s hand. A sharp, ragged inhale broke her silence. She was gasping for air. Choked sobs dragged themselves from her throat. Kara sobbed. “I could’ve killed him- all of them,” Another pained inhale. She looked like she was drowning. “And I wanted to, Jason. Their blood was all over my skin and all I could think about is how their next target is Kal- how I need to protect him- how badly I wanted to rip apart-“ A sob clipped her words.

Jason opened his arms and Kara stepped into him, melting into the fabric of his sweatshirt. He had changed from his suit and his hair was mussed in a dark halo around his head. He smelled like Kara remembered- the sweet musk of his skin mixed with gunpowder and menthols. She buried her head into his chest and tried to regain her breath.

“I’m supposed to be a hero-“ Kara breathed into Jason, “but I don’t even know what the right thing is anymore.” Sensing Kara’s exhaustion, Jason bent down, hooking his arm under her knees, and lifted her from her feet. When he was met with no protest, he carried her past the threshold of his apartment and walked to the couch.

The cushions gave under Kara’s weight. She wanted to sink deeper and stay there awhile. But she wanted Jason more. When his hands pulled back she reached for the collar of his hoodie- grasping at the fabric with shaking hands.

Jason, following her que, didn’t pull back. Instead he braced his hands on either side of her and studied the way the dim light from the kitchen caught on the navy gossamer of her gown. It was like the ocean’s surface in the dead of night. He flexed his hands and kept himself from leaning closer. It took every shred of his self control to keep from scooping her off the couch and nestling her in his bedsheets. She’d be more comfortable there. He’d be more comfortable with her beside him.

“You should sleep,” Jason spoke into their shared air. He drew up memories of the give of her bottom lip against his teeth and the tone of her moans as he drew them from her slackened mouth. Jason shifted and hoped she didn’t notice the erection pushing up against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“I don’t sleep,” Kara said, leaning up, as if drawn by magnets, towards Jason’s mouth. She shifted beneath his. A slight flush colored her cheeks.

Jason removed one hand from the couch, keeping himself upright with the other, and placed it on Kara’s hip. The lovely curve of bone and flesh met the hollow of his palm. With this thumb, he rubbed slow circles through the thin fabric of her dress.

“You will tonight,” Jason drawled, “I have a feeling you’ll have a nasty hangover.”

Kara’s lips parted. Her hips pressed up into Jason’s touch. She ached everywhere. “And where are you gonna sleep,” Kara mumbled, avoiding Jason’s eyes. She focused on the rotation of Jason’s thumb on her body- using the sensation to ground her.

Jason smirked, removing his hand and bracing it, ounce again, against the couch. “Where do you need me to sleep, Kara?”

Kara frowned, forcing her body to sink back into the cushions and away from Jason’s body. “I don’t need anything Jason- I was just…curious.”

Removing himself from his position above Kara, Jason stood up. He lowered himself between her splayed legs, resting his hands on her thighs. Slowly, he ran them up and down the silken fabric. “I missed you, Kara- but this isn’t the way to heal. As much as I’d love to finally fuck you, I think we should wait.”

Kara pushed herself from the couch and took Jason’s face in her hands. She ran one hand through his hair, gripping the locks and tilting his head backwards. “What if I told you I needed it,” Kara whispered, running her thumb over the pout of Jason’s bottom lip.

“I’d call you a liar,” Jason quipped, dipping his head to suck lightly, once, on Kara’s thumb. The wet heat of Jason’s mouth sent her reeling.

“You don’t want this?” Kara asked, breathless, as she gently pushed her thumb back, letting Jason’s lips take it in. His tongue played on the pad of the finger, flicking slow strokes. He bit playfully- teeth grazing the skin- and drew back. In one fluid movement, Jason cupped Kara’s jaw and pushed his own thumb into her mouth. Kara smirked around it- sucking languid strokes along its length. She opened her mouth, letting Jason see her tongue as she ran it along the underside.

“Kara…’ Jason breathed, moving his other hand to cup her breast, playing with the nipple that rose against the silk. Without warning, Jason dropped his hands and rose. A breathless whine escaped Kara. She stood up, tugging at his waistband in protest.

“Jay please….” Kara ran her hand along the v of his abdomen and Jason nearly came at the sensation, as her fingers nearly grazed him. Kara removed her hands and placed them on her hips.

Resolve crumbling, Jason took Kara’s face in both of his hands. Purple indents hung below her eyes. Mascara was smeared and darkened the bags. Her blue eyes- two pleading pools- searched his. Jason bent his head and grazed her lips with his- kissing her with feather-light contact. It was a whisper of a kiss- an ephemeral promise for more. It wasn’t enough. Kara ached. She wanted to pull him down and drown in him. She wanted Jason in her and on her- pushing her into his mattress and holding her body upright when she couldn’t.

“Sleep for me Kara,” Jason mumbled against her lips, “we’ll see what I can do for you once you’re healed.”

Kara, exhausted and sick of fighting, sighed her acceptance and let Jason lead her to his bedroom. She held his hand as he walked in front of her, not bothering to memorize the path. She felt the cool fabric of his sheets wash over her- and then the warm strength of Jason curl around her.

And just like the kryptonite- Kara let the warmth and the darkness drag her under.

30 notes · View notes

books-things · 4 months ago

Text

12 марта - 100 лет со дня рождения Гарри Гаррисона (настоящее имя Генри Максвелл Демпси) (1925-2012), американского писателя-фантаста и редактора.

Родился в Стемфорде, штат Коннектикут. Единственный сын Лео Харрисона и Риа Кирьяссофф был окрещен именем Генри Максвэлл Дэмпси, позже имя было официально изменено на Гарри Гаррисон (допускается Харрисон). Свое детство в Коннектикуте и Нью-Йорке Гарри провел в одиночку. Уже в семь лет он был любителем научной фантастики и читал все, начиная Доктором Севеджем и заканчивая К.С. Форестером. К 13 годам он развился в активного любителя, когда написал свой первый читательский отзыв в журнал SF. В 1943 году был призван на военную службу. Трехлетний стаж в армии, после которого он был увенчан званием сержанта ВВС США, обозначал по его словам, конец его детства.

После войны Гарри Гаррисон поступил в Хантер Колледж в Нью-Йорке, где у своего наставника Джона Бломшильда обучался изобразительному искусству, тем самым заложив основной камень в фундамент своей первой карьеры художника и иллюстратора. В художественном высшем учебном заведении он познакомился с художником Уэлли Вудом, вместе с которым начал выпускать комиксы. После чего он открыл агентство по рекламной графике и работал лектором для литературных и комикс журналов. Кроме того, на протяжении десяти лет он писал тексты для серии комиксов Флэша Гордона. В клубе научной фантастики «Гидра» он вошел в контакт с Флэтчером Прэттом, Фредериком Брауном и многими другими авторами научной фантастики, такими как Фредерик Пол, Айзек Азимов или Деймон Найт. Он готовил иллюстрации для журнала научной фантастики «Worlds Beyond» и в то же время был редактором научной фантастики, приключенческих сцен для различных издательств. В 1951 в «Worlds Beyond» он издает свой первый научно-фантастический очерк «Rock Diver» (Ныряльщик со скалы), а также пишет для журнала морские приключенческие истории.

Первой книжной публикацией Гарри Гаррисона был роман «Неукротимая планета» (Deathworld, 1960), который в последующие годы был продолжен в трилогию героя Язона дин Альта «Инженер по этике» (Deathworld 2, 1964) и «Конные варвары» (Deathworld 3, 1968). Более успешным был выход десятитомного цикла о «стальной крысе» Джимме ди Гризе, который впервые был представлен в романе «Агенты в космосе» («The Stainless Steel Rat, 1961 — Крыса из нержавеющей стали).

Необычная комбинация юмора и научной фантастики отпечаталась на многих его последующих произведениях, таких как «Билл, герой галактики» (1965), из которого берет начало серия «Билл, герой галактики», и которым начинается сотрудничество над семи томами с Робертом Шекли, Дэвидом Бишоффом и другими. «Фантастическая сага» («Technocolor Time Machine», 1967) описывает попытку съемочной группы побудить викингов к открытию Америки. Роман «Подвиньтесь! Подвиньтесь!» («Make Room! Make Room!» 1966) имеет несколько другой тон. Интересное видение опасности перенаселения под названием «Год 2022 … которые хотят выжить» было снято на пленку Ричардом Фляйшером, в главных ролях Чарльтон Хестон и Эдвард Дж.Робинсон. Кроме многочисленных последующих отдельно стоящих романов — иллюстрированный роман «История планеты» (Planet Story, 1979), который возник в сотрудничестве с художником Джиммом Барнсом, Гаррисон пишет трилогию «К звездам» («To the Stars», 1981) а также трехтомный Эдемский цикл (1986-88), который отображен в необычном образе альтернативного мира.

За свою жизнь Гарри Гаррисон опубликовал около шестидесяти романов. Кроме того, отчасти вместе с другими научными фантастами, он составил различные научно-фантастические антологии, например том антропологической беллетристики (Человекоподобная обезьяна, космонавт, 1968 Apeman, Spaceman), Nova-Reihe (1970-1974) и сборник научно-фантастических бестселлеров (1968-76). Его иллюстрированные тома Great Balls of Fire 1977 (Большие огненные шары) и Mechanismo 1977 (Механизм), иллюстрируют тему пола, т.е. роботы в научной фантастике. С 1968 по 1969 Гаррисон был вице-президентом Союза авторов научной фантастики SFWA. Гаррисон основал организацию World SF, которая представляла интересы авторов научной фантастики и в 1978 году был избран ее председателем. Он является полноправным членом Universala Esperanto-Asocio, которая поддерживает существующий (с 1887 года) мировой язык, время от времени применяемый в его произведениях.

В 1990 году он был на всемирной конференции в Гааге и на Троицу 1999 года в качестве почетного гостя TRINITY на собрании Европейского Союза Научных Фантастов в Дортмунде.

#гарри гаррисон #писатель #тамблер #блог #harry harrison #writer #tumblr #blog

1 note · View note