#roman hors x you

[heidelbeeren-sussy-baka]

Roman + smoker fem!reader | Роман Хорс + курящая читательница

перенос моего фанфика с фикбука.

SFW

tags: fluff, smoking, swearing, mention of New Year, angst/humor elements, Roman without balaclava at the end

метки: флафф, курение, брань, упоминания Нового года, элементы ангста/юмора, Роман без балаклавы в конце

word count ; количество слов - 3137

please, use the translator!!

_ _ _

Молча стоять под старой, скрипящей маркизой, которая по твоим предположениям будет унесена во время следующего урагана, словно домик Элли и Тотошки, было всегда приятно. Особенно, если небо уже темнело, натягивая на себя усыпанное крапинками ярких, но таких далёких звёзд, одеяло. Ещё более особенным этот момент был тогда, когда на улице тихо посвистывал прохладный ветерок, на который ты не обращала внимания, будучи укутанной в осенний шарфик и два тёплых вязаных свитера неприметного цвета, словно и это был некий камуфляж — кутаться в куртку и прятаться под тысячей и ещё одним слоем одежды, словно капуста, смысла не было — повезло тебе, в что праздничную Новогоднюю ночь в Калининграде температура только и делала, что кружилась вокруг да около отметки "ноль градусов по Цельсию". Холодно было только ранним утром — минус три градуса. Днём же старый ртутный столбик, приклеенный чёрт знает чем к одному из окон базы команды 715, скользнул к полосочке с надписью "плюс два градуса". Тебе же, как человеку более северному и закалённому, на такие температуры было ни тепло, ни холодно — во всех смыслах.

За стеной, которая вроде бы из бетона и железа, а иногда кажется, что из картона, слышится мужской приглушённый смех и чоканье кружек, у кого каких — алюминиевых или фаянсовых, что были наполнены, конечно, не алкоголем, а соком и колой. Это было не так уж и важно, в любом случае, пока ты здесь стояла одна, за стеной и дверью, через которую ты и улизнула от остальной команды под тупым предлогом "мне нужно подышать свежим воздухом" (который, на удивление, сработал), по ту сторону уже собирались праздновать Новый год. Ты обещала присоединиться к ним, но чуть попозже. Сейчас тебе нужно окончить одно важное дельце…

И когда ты думаешь об этом, взгляд твоих глаз медленно, словно змея, ползёт по твоей руке, медленно и неторопливо достигая ладони и останавливаясь на том, что было зажато между твоих пальцев.

Сигарета.

Обычная, простая и довольно дешёвая. Какая-то отечественная марка — ты не была из числа тех людей (которое в основном состояло из девушек с богатыми муженьками и родителями), считавших, что если курить и гробить своё здоровье — так гробить его красиво и помпезно. А вся помпезность заключалась в красивенькой блестящей упаковочке, элегантной сигаретке, а-ля “более приятном для других запахе” и, конечно, немаленькой сумме на ценнике. Иногда сигарета сменялась вейпом, HQD или POD-системой, но ты пришла к выводу, что сейчас так делают только безмозглые подростки, которые боятся, что по запаху сигарет их быстро раскусят учителя и родители, а вот "ашкьюди" и "поды", мол, и почти безвредные, и пахнут приятно. Только в итоге здоровье всё равно катится в канаву вместе с лёгкими.

Тебе же было почти всё равно, что пихать в рот — как заявляла одна из твоих знакомых в школьные годы, протягивая и чуть ли не пихая тебе в рот сигарету (которая, между прочим, и стала началом твоей никотиновой зависимости), — “брать сигареты в рот не страшно. А вот просто брать в рот — занятие уже весьма сомнительное. Так что давай, не вредничай, ещё не знаешь, как тя жизнь метелить будет”.

И в правду, жизнь слегка пометелила, только сигареты ничем не помогали. Просто отвлекали на время. С тем же успехом ты могла подсесть на мыльные оперы с кучей серий или компьютерные игры, но они отличались тем, что учиться ты могла, куря прямо на балконе своей съёмной квартиры, а вот с играми так не получалось. С фильмами, впрочем, тоже. Ну не могла ты концентрироваться на куче дел одновременно, не могла!

Ты поднимаешь руку и шумно втягиваешь поток воздуха через сигарету. Затем выдыхаешь клубы табачного дыма — ужасно вонючего и раздражающего любого некурящего человека. Ветер был даже на руку — пусть он и доставил тебе проблем, когда ты хотела поджечь сигарету, но сейчас помогал, поскорее унося быстро растворяющиеся клубы дыма в сторону ваших тренировочных полигонов.

Мысли с каждой затяжкой начинают крутиться в твоей голове и шнырять всё быстрее, словно в блендере. Снова вспоминаешь свою знакомую со старшей школы. Когда шарага была окончена, ты потеряла её контакты и, не скрывая этого, выдохнула полной грудью. Эта девушка принесла тебе немало проблем, и никотиновая зависимость была лишь каплей в большом море.

* * *

Заканчиваешь институт, радостная, как чёрт — и на твой следующий день рождения в мессенджере видишь сообщение от неё. Глупая картинка с шаблонным поздравлением, смайлики поцелуев и сердечек, мол, от души, словно она была у этой дурынды, а ниже — слова, от которых тебя передёрнуло, пусть это и был простой рассказ о жизни, который тебя ничуть не тронул, а лишь каким-то неведомым образом рассердил, заставив сжать телефон в руках.

Она рассказывала о том, как бросила институт, выскочив замуж, и у неё уже второй ребёнок. Даже кинула фотографию с собой — двумя маленькими спиногрызами и женщиной, грудь и губы которой, пожалуй, скоро лопнут от силикона (страшно представить, что творилось с её бёдрами и ягодицами) — любой человек дал бы ей сорок лет с копейками, мол, пытается скрыть первые выступающие морщины на лице. Каково бы было их удивление, когда они бы увидели строку в её паспорте с надписью “двадцать пять лет”!

А следом — вопрос, который, пусть и был ожидаем, заставил тебя впасть в секундный ступор.

“А ты, я слышала, ещё не замужем? Милая, зачем же тебе так крутиться? Найди себе крепкое плечо уже наконец-то! На твою фигурку быстро кавалер найдётся. А потом, авось, и детишек родишь))”

Захотелось выкинуть гаджет куда-то в окно. Он бы точно разбился — тогда ты жила на четвёртом этаже. Хотелось послать эту “тётку” куда подальше, а потом переместить её контакт, невесть каким образом сохранившийся в недрах телефона, в чёрный список, но ты почему-то терпишь, вежливо и терпеливо печатая вежливый ответ, хотя так и хотелось написать “лучше бы не слышала” и, пожалуй, ещё пару грубостей. Скверный �� тебя был характер.

“Нет, не замужем. Мне сейчас интересна работа, карьера и собственная жизнь, а не кавалер. Найти ещё успею. А “прицеп” и подавно.”

Ответ не заставил себя ждать — не удивительно. Скорее всего, она всегда проводила время дома с детьми перед телевизором, попутно пялясь в экран телефона и листая ленту в каком-то новомодном приложении.

“Ой, Т/И-шенька! Милая моя, ты так и не поняла!!!! Ты не представляешь, как хорошо жить так! Скажи, ну какая радость в том, чтобы голодать по три дня в неделю из-за маленькой стипендии?”

А в другой части сообщения от старой школьной знакомой преобладало ужасное множество злых смайликов и восклицательных знаков — это уже не говоря о том, что почти всё было написано капсом. Даже ошибки присутствовали, что натолкнуло тебя на две мысли — или она очень качественно прогуливала уроки русского, или так сильно злилась, что не попадала по правильным буквам. “ДА ЭТИ ДЕТИ ТЕБЕ ВЕДЬ ПОМОГУТ ПОТОМ!!!! Глупенькая, ну подумай ты!!!! Мат. Капитал, денюжки!!! Я за двоих получаю столько, что тебе и не снилось!! Так что давай, не глупи! Помогу тебе, непутёвой, советом))”

“Мне не нужны ни муж, ни дети, ни жена, раз уж живём мы в двадцать первом веке и на то пошло. Я уж лучше стану голодать, чем пихать под кожу инородные вещества и силикон ради кого-то, кто, скорее всего, сбежит через время.

Физкультурой и учёбой я и без спиногрызов могу заниматься, а стакан с водой я обычно ставлю около себя. Живёшь ты хорошо только из-за своего мужа, который тебя поёбывает просто потому, что ты у него дома — чтобы зря еду и деньги не переводила. Готова поспорить, у него уже есть девчонки на стороне. Я бы предпочла природную красоту, а не секс-куклу, давно напичканную латексом. Если он тебя вышвырнет, найдя замену, твой материнский капитал тебе ничем не поможет.

А мне, непутёвой, совет от такой суки, как ты, и не нужен. Уже помогла в старшей школе, больше не требуется.”

* * * Горло першит, и ты приходишь в себя, слыша тихий железный скрип рядом с собой и полностью его игнорируя, думая, что это козырёк над тобой скулит на ветру. Балда, ещё бы фильтр скурила, хотя этого не вышло бы. Ты бросила вниз окурок с оплавленным кончиком на землю, закрыв его ногой в чёрном берце.

Каждый раз, когда ты делала новую затяжку, ты вспоминала свою школьную подругу, которая и не была тебе подругой вовсе. Сейчас, смотря это со стороны взрослого человека, ты была более, чем уверена, что тебе стоило пресечь общение с ней сразу. Хоть стать заклятыми врагами и терпеть от неё идиотские попытки отомстить всю оставшуюся школу. Сейчас бы тебе, возможно, было легче, чем тогда.

И, тем не менее, ты тянешься за новой. Медлишь, останавливая руку перед карманом джинс, словно прикидывая, брать или нет. Сегодня у тебя вряд-ли будет вторая возможность покурить в одиночестве или покурить в принципе — здесь курение было пусть и не табу, но темой хоть и немного, но осуждаемой. Особенно лидером команды. Единственным, чей взгляд ты чувствовала на своей спине, пока не шмыгнула в коридор, ведущий к чёрному входу, и, собственно, твоему месту для курения.

Интересно, где же он?

Ты могла услышать его смех, даже если он смешается со множеством других. Поэтому тебе не составляло труда догадаться, что тот улизнул из компании куда-то в другое место. Странно для человека, который для тебя всегда был эталоном души компании. В этом было что-то странное.

И, желая заставить свои мысли вновь кишить в голове, авось и придумаешь что-то, ты принимаешь решение и лезешь за второй сигаретой в карман. Аккуратно достаёшь, но не успеваешь даже поднести к зажигалке, как твою правую руку с сигаретой меж пальцев резко хватают за запястье. Ты вздрагиваешь, уже напрягая мышцы, чтобы нанести резкий удар неизвестному под печень локтем, но тот был быстрее тебя — вытянул твою руку в сторону, чтобы ты не могла её согнуть. Вторую схватил также быстро, почти одновременно с первой и завёл за спину. Ты медлишь секунду, чувствуя, как нападавший аккуратно выталкивает старую зажигалку из твоей руки своим большим пальцем, еле удерживая тебя за запястье.

Вспомнишь лучик — вот и солнышко.

      — Рома... — Хриплым, просящим голосом ноешь ты, пытаясь спрятать сигарету в ладони своей правой руки. Нетрудно было догадаться, что за этим от тебя послышатся печальные слова о том, как тебе не дают покурить.

      — Брось сигарету. — Голос парня из-за спины слышится глухо и тихо, но, тем не менее, требовательно. Ни его чёрная балаклава, ни свистящий вечерний ветер не могли скрыть его серьёзности.  

     — А если нет? — С интересом спрашиваешь ты, устремляя взгляд своих глаз куда-то вперёд, в близлежащее поле, которое было застлано пожухлой травой. Через секунду хватка на твоих руках усиливается, а после ты ощущаешь тёплое дыхание Романа через ткань его маски на своей шее — видимо, наклонился к тебе ближе. Специально ли он так делает или это же ты на секунду зациклилась на его присутствии?

Тихо зашипев от негодования, ты отбрасываешь новую сигарету в сторону, и помятую бедолагу тут же куда-то утаскивает ветер по бетонной площадке. Чувствуя то, как хватка на одном из твоих запястьев спадает, а после руку молодого мужчины в своём правом кармане, ты цыкаешь. Не видать тебе ни той сигареты, ни оставшейся упаковки. Да и зажигалка тоже плакала — как только она упала из твоей руки, ты услышала характерный треск пластика и после шуршание. Видимо, Хорс чуть раздавил зажигалку, а после пнул её в неизвестном направлении.

      — Так-то лучше. — Говорит парень, тут же отпуская тебя и доставая каждую сигарету из упаковки и рвя натрое, а после сминая упаковку. С каждой секундой его голос становился спокойнее и непринуждённее.  

     — Ну вот… — Печально протягиваешь ты, оборачиваясь и глядя, как твои сигаретки нещадно разрывают и потрошат. Неясно, что тебе было жаль больше — сами сигареты или деньги, которые ты на них потратила. Могла бы себе и колу купить — радости больше, а вреда… Вред тоже есть. Но его уже меньше.

Стряхнув со своих рук серо-зелёные маленькие остатки табака, которым была плотно напичкана каждая сигарета, которую ты, благо, ещё не успела выкурить, Хорс быстро оглядывает тебя с ног до головы.  

     — Т/И? — Только и произносит парень, но вам обоим уже был ясен смысл дальнейшего предложения.  

     — Я в порядке. — С выраженной печалью в голосе отвечаешь ты, заставляя парня тяжело вдохнуть и, разводя руки, шагнуть к тебе, обхватывая в крепком, но аккуратном объятии. Ты утыкаешься своим лицом в плечо молодого мужчины, пока тот перемещает свою руку на твою спину, аккуратно гладя и спускаясь чуть ниже. Были бы здесь прохожие, так бы и полюбовались, качая головами, мол, какая милая пара! Только и Хорс, и ты придерживались мнения, что ваши отношения целиком и полностью платонические, а обильное количество пошлых шуток с обоих сторон, так, по приколу, пусть всё и дошло до странных слухов о том, что вы уже больше, чем друзья.  

     — Тебе стоит отдохнуть и повеселиться с другими. Куря какую-то дешёвку новогоднего настроения не получишь. — Заявляет Роман. В принципе, он был прав. Стоя тут на тебя навеивала тоска, и ты даже не знаешь, с чем она была связана. Просто грустно. Возможно, если сейчас ты пойдёшь обратно на базу, настроение изменится хотя-бы на время?   

    — Возможно, — отвечаешь ты молодому мужчине, чуть протягивая руки вперёд и обнимая его в ответ в районе грудной клетки, которая была плотно скрыта тёплой толстовкой чёрного цвета под стать его маске. — Только я не думаю, что оно долго будет длиться.

     — Так и хуй с ним! — Говорит Рома с каплей энтузиазма. — Главное — Новый год навеселе встретить. А дальше как пойдёт. — Ответ, очевидно, в его стиле. Ты усмехнулась, но в знак лёгкого несогласия слегка сжала ткань его толстовки сзади, заставляя его тихо вздохнуть и замолчать.

     — Так нет же... Чего-то особенного хочется. — Говоришь ты задумчиво. Что — не знаешь, но чего-то хочется. Очень раздражающее чувство.   

     — Новогодний подарок? — Спрашивает парень, проговаривая первое, что ему пришло на ум. Обычно настроение приходит с подарками и взрослым, и детям. Чуть отстраняясь, Рома мимолётно оглядывает твоё лицо. Взгляд проходится по твоим очам и, словно невзначай, губам. Видя твоё смятение, тот вздыхает: — и желаемого подарка у тебя тоже нет?

      — Был бы у меня кавалер, сказала бы, что в качестве подарка на Новогоднюю ночь хочу его. — Говоришь ты, а после прикусываешь губу, понимая, что сморозила глупость. Очень жаль, что завывавший вечерний ветер не мог унести весь никотин из твоей головы. Возможно, ты бы сказала что-то более вменяемое, но время вспять уже не повернуть. Ты уже успела тысячу раз пожалеть о том, что так долго думала о сообщениях своей знакомой. Пропади она пропадом...

      — Кавалера, говоришь? — Задаёт вопрос Рома, хмыкая. Ты отводишь взгляд, зная, что не сможешь спокойно смотреть в его глаза, не рассмеявшись или не засмущавшись от его лисьего прищура. Всё, вечер тебе предстояло провести с долей пошлых шуток от своего друга. Возможно, стоило начать писать завещание, только родственников у тебя не было.

      — Ой, блять, — возмущённо отвечаешь ты. — Не докапывайся до слов. Понял же, что я чушь сказала.

      — Не могу не использовать эту возможность против тебя. Уже привычка. — Слышится со стороны парня. Ты решаешься глянуть на него, и замираешь, видя то, как молодой мужчина, с наглым и одновременно насмешливым прищуром глядя на тебя, прижимает тебя ближе к себе. Ты быстро переносишь свои руки на его грудь, скрытую под тканью чёрного свитшота, и несильно, но стараешься удерживать небольшое расстояние между вами двумя. Это не длится долго — ты чувствуешь, как тебя мягко пихают по левой щиколотке, заставляя нелепо пошатнуться и обмякнуть в крепких объятьях парня. Пока одна рука Хорса прижимала тебя к себе, другая поднялась к краю его чёрной, как смоль, балаклавы, поддевая край, и — ты могла поклясться, — нарочито медленно потянулась вверх, слегка задевая нежную кожу шеи того кончиком ногтя, оставляя за собой лёгкую красноватую дорожку к линии нижней челюсти.

Тебе уже много раз доводилось видеть Романа без его маски и, тем не менее, ты снова и снова поддавалась ощущению, что перед тобой открывается совершенно другая сторона парня. Да и каждый раз в твоём присутствии он старался стянуть балаклаву как можно более помпезно. Бывало, что он тебя даже чуть пихнёт плечом, заставляя оглянуться на него, а после самодовольно улыбнётся, говоря “зацени, сейчас маску сниму!”. Словно знал, что ты всегда будешь заинтересована в этом процессе.

Он не упустил этой возможности и сейчас, но, пользуясь тем, что они остались наедине, постарался на славу. Тебе даже показалось, что ты перестала дышать, а вой ветра утих. Сейчас был лишь Рома, который медленно снимал свою маску с себя, звон и громкое, учащённое сердцебиение в твоих ушах. Чувствуя то, как под твоими руками грудная клетка парня размеренно поднималась и опускалась, а сердце звучало ровно и тихо, хотелось цыкнуть от негодования, только ты не могла, хотя и ощущала себя жертвой шутки парня. Он был спокоен, а вот ты уже чувствовала румянец на своих щеках. Оставалось лишь надеяться, что молодой мужчина или не заметит, или смилуется над тобой и не отпустит очередную шутку в твой адрес.

Карие глаза ни на секунду не отрывают от тебя своего взгляда, словно вы были скованы невидимыми оковами, заставлявшими вас неотрывно пялиться друг на друга.

Роман продолжал снимать маску, открывая тебе своё лицо.

Правильные черты, слегка выраженные скулы, прямой нос, выразительные брови и короткие тёмные волосы, обрамлявшие лицо парня. Быстро пихая балаклаву в ближайший карман, Хорс тут же провёл рукой по приглаженным от ткани волосам, ероша их и позволяя прохладному ветру играться с кончиками локонов, пока ты жалеешь, что не сделала этого первее. Да и возможности пошевелить руками у тебя не было.

      — Поздравляю с приобретением лица, Роман Хорс. — Язвишь ты, словно стараясь показать парню, что ты не впала, — даже если на деле всё было совсем наоборот, — в ступор.

      — Я не знал, что помидоры умеют говорить. — Парирует он, наклоняясь к тебе. Всё-таки разница в росте давала о себе знать. Ты цыкаешь, не зная, как ответить на его слова, а он лишь пользуется этим — приближается ближе к тебе, опаляя кожу твоего лица горячим дыханием, а после накрывает твои губы своими, заставляя тебя вздрогнуть и быстро заморгать. С какой-то стороны этот жест был ожидаем, но всё-таки… Непривычно ощущать губы друга на своих.

Ваш поцелуй был сухим и лёгким, но для тебя он всё равно был пропитан эмоциями. Единственное, что сейчас тебя тяготило — то, сделал ли это парень в шутку и после тебя щёлкнут по лбу, говоря, что ты купилась, или же он просто нашёл нестандартное решение тому, как вывести ваши отношения на новую ступень? Несколько мгновений, и ты отстраняешься, облизывая свои губы кончиком языка, словно пытаясь запомнить вкус молодого мужчины. Тот же распрямился, и, повернувшись, демонстративно кашлянул пару раз в сторону. — Ужас! Ты явно выкурила больше одной сигареты, да, Т/И?

Ты молчишь, словно пытаясь анализировать то, что произошло. Разговор, шутка за шуткой и вот вы уже… О боже, какой ужас. Новый год ты проведёшь не только с его шутками, но и с давящим чувством стыда, это ты уже осознала.

      — Итак… Может я и не особо похож на кавалера, но, как видишь, вполне могу им стать. — Улыбаясь, отвечает Рома и невинно смотрит на тебя, что еле-еле очухалась после поцелуя. Ни стыда, ни совести.

      — Необычный подарок, однако… — Наконец-то вновь решаешься заговорить ты, снова уводя взгляд в сторонку. С другой стороны… Забавно и неплохо. — Только я, правда, говорила в немножечко другом смысле… — Ты тянешь гласные на слове “немножечко”, словно намекая на более интимный контекст.

      — Раз уж теперь есть добрый я, — мягко и с уже знакомой, но не злобной насмешкой, говорит парень, пока натягивает балаклаву на лицо и поправляет её, — то я могу подарить тебе ещё один подарок.

Ты закатываешь глаза на “очередную шутку”, а затем резко осознаешь смысл сказанного молодым мужчиной. Ошеломлённо переводишь взгляд на него и таращишься, словно увидела что-то неземное.

      — Подожди, чт-

Прежде чем ты успеваешь договорить, тебя снова встречает лисий прищур парня, после которого он мягко и аккуратно подталкивает тебя ближе к двери обратно в здание базы руками и корпусом. — Давай-давай, иди, тебя ждут. Скажешь о своём решении ближе к полночи.

И ты, закусив край нижней губы от эмоций, тянешь дверь за ручку и идёшь обратно, к команде. Судя по тому, как твоя голова быстро переполнялась разнообразными фантазиями не самого ангельского содержания, ты уже поняла, что ответишь ему “да”.

_ _ _

thanks for reading!

спасибо за прочтение!

715 team masterlist

[baeddel]

What do you like about old English and modernEnglish as languages? What do you dislike?

i suppose its a bit early to ask me that, since i don't speak or read enough of Old English to grasp it, in a manner of speaking, as will rather than as representation. i know some words, and i know the grammatical basics, but i can't make it through one sentence of Aelfric without Bosworth-Toller's help, so i don't really know what it's like to read Old English rather than know some things about it. so what i like is that it has trilled Rs, it has the letters þ and ð (which are the same letter; and i like that, now that i have an Old English keyboard layout installed, i can easily make this smiley face: :þ), it writes Roman numerals with a j on the end for easier reading (ie. iij instead of iii, which i wish we still did!), and i like that words can be in any order you like, i like that the phonological rules are very regular (there are no silent letters, etc.), and i like seeing old versions of familiar words: ream is our cream, scip is our ship, and hors is a horse of course. i like all the words they have for dickgirls: baedling, wæpnedwif, scritta, in fact all the types of chick they record: wif, sigewif, ides, wælcyrge. i like that they say Edmund cyning rather than King Edmund. i like their long, bizarre, and unsayable names, like Æðelfrið; we often give them a more convenient name (Lady Godiva was really Godgifu). i like to torment my friends by giving my characters Old English names in videogames, so i can correct their pronounciation over and over. there is nothing to dislike in Old English.

with Modern English i do grasp it as will, but having no facility with another language with which to compare it, perhaps i don't grasp it as representation. most of what i like about ModE is not haphazard features of the language, but really using the language, which is probably identically felt in any language. but this is something i like: i like finding ways to say something in a memorable way, which means turning a concept around to find the right vantage point. one that i find myself saying a lot is that 'x and y are exactly the same.' well, if they are exactly the same then they are identical. those are well known expressions for that concept, which i almost never use. instead the two things are coextensive, coeval, or share circumference; x is y's doppleganger, while y finds its double in x; x is mirrored in y while y perfectly overlaps with x. and so forth. there is nothing to dislike in Modern English, although many people might resent that they have to speak it rather than their native language, or that, as it is with me, one day their family gave up their native language for it. the reign of this language is, of course, a demonstration of postcolonial power and a reminder of the colonial legacy, but i tend to agree with Connolly that you can be too sentimental about this, and language revivalism has only narrow nationalist and no specifically anti-colonial content. anyway, by the same measure we have many local dialects of English, and(, sure,) i think my native Hiberno-English is an attractive one (so i do). thanks for asking.

[bl33dingm3mry]

Heist of The Heart || Prologue

Deckard Shaw x OC

Word Count: 212 Summary: Secrets never stay hidden for long but as old foes threaten to ruin all she holds dear, Sterling Jones seeks help from the most unlikely candidate. Ex-British Special Forces member Deckard Shaw.

CHAPTER WARNING: Swearing

A/N: For those who are new, my prologues are like mini snippets of a chapter, something to get you interested, that being said, I recently rewatched all 10 of the F&F films. And boy did I forget just how much I enjoyed them. Like I didn't have to think or overanalyze anything, I could just watch. Well films 8, H&S, and 9 hit harder (totally not because of my love for Jason Statham....) and so this piece of hellfire was spawned.

TAGLIST:

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the list!

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Sterling grabbed a glass of champagne off the platter and thanked the man, running a hand beneath the hair piled over her shoulder as if tucking some behind her ear. She offered him one last flirtatious smile before walking towards the dance floor of the expansive room, taking a small sip from the glass. “Champagnes delicious Tej, a bit on the expensive side for me but you sold it well.”

“Do you always flirt this much with your undercover friends?” “Only if they’re as smart as they are good-looking.”

A smile pulled at the corner of her lips as her gaze wandered across the crowds of people, her eyes locking on Roman and Ramsey over by the buffet table covered in hors d’oeuvres. No shocker there, that man could have eaten his way through an entire grocery store and still been hungry afterward. She started to make her way over to the pair when she locked eyes with Ramsey, a subtle shake of her head before slapping Roman's hand, catching his attention as well. “We got a problem… Mr. Mafia seems to have his eyes locked on you SJ.” “Shit I can’t dump my bug…”

“Well, you’re going to need to figure something out quickly 'cause he is walking over here…”

“Fuck.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Shall I Count the Ways: VI

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends. You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you, but neither of you know it nor decide to tell the other about their feelings. All the love is there, just hidden in the things you say and the things you do with one another.

A/N: From the this 50 Ways to Say I Love You list 

Series Masterlist

6. “I’d really love it if you came”

"Hello?”

“Sooooo...”

“What do you want?” he asks with a smirk and you can hear it through his voice.

“My cousin is holding an engagement party and I’d really love it if you came.”

“Sure, let’s just hope I don’t get cal-”

“Ssssshhhhh. Don’t jinx it, Speedy.”

“You know the Latin iynx came from the Greek name of the wryneck bird, iunx, associated with sorcery; not only was the bird used in the casting of spells and in divination, but the Ancient Romans and Greeks traced the bird's mythological origins to a sorceress named Iynx, who was transformed into this bird to punish her for a spell cast on the god Zeus.”

“Huh. That’s really cool, Spence. Anyway, the engagement party is three weeks from now. When I find a dress, I’ll send you a picture and you can find a tie to match. Ugh, my cousin is making this a whole big fancy smancy shindig.”

You didn’t see it, but you can imagine Spencer making a look of distaste as he made a disgruntled noise, “Isn’t matching a little tacky?”

You scoffed, “No! I love matching! It’s cute! Anyways a customer walked in, I’ll talk to you later, m’kay?”

“Alright. Talk to you later, bye.”

______________

“Y/N! Hi!” your cousin squealed as she pulled away from the group she was talking to and wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, “It’s so good to see you!”

You hugged her back with a smile, “Nice to see you too, Sharlene, and congrats!”

“Thank you! Finally, am I right?” she looks back to her future wife with a love filled expression, “Seven years with her and I still feel lovestruck by her.” she then notices Spencer awkwardly standing slightly behind you, “Oh! Spencer! Hi!” she went to hug him but stopped, “Wait, you don’t like touching. Sorry.”

He gives her his usual tight lipped smile and replied, “Thanks, and congratulations.”

“Thank you so much! It’s great seeing you guys, but I should probably go greet other guests. I didn’t expect this thing to be so tiring. Yeesh!”

You two wave as Sharlene leaves to move to another group. You immediately take Spencer’s hand and pull him towards the hors d'oeuvres. It’s true that Spencer isn’t particularly fond of people touching him, but he makes an exception for you.

“Foooood!” you take a plate, handing it to Spencer and then getting your own, filling it with a bunch of sandwiches, chicken nuggets, and other small handheld foods. 

Spencer mindlessly picked up something here and there, his sole focus on you as you excitedly piled your plate, hunger in your eyes. 

“I told you we should’ve had something light before coming here.”

“And I told you that I wanted to save room for the fancy smancy food that they’d be serving here!”

He chuckled as he waited for you on the side to finish up filling your plate, patience and adoration in his eyes.

[hlupdate]

A hand­shake can quell polit­i­cal unrest and sti­fle impend­ing war. It can, with a bit of spit, val­i­date a gentleman’s agree­ment, end a years-long roman­tic rela­tion­ship or send a young heart rac­ing. But it all depends on the two par­ties involved.

Daisy, 21, felt a seis­mic jolt when Har­ry Styles, 25, wear­ing a striped jumper and rings on three of his five fin­gers, clutched her hand two days after this year’s Met Gala in New York, when she served him gela­to at the shop where she worked.

“He decid­ed on a small mint choco­late gela­to and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ​‘Can I just say I absolute­ly loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ​‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ​‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCK­ING EXTEND­ED HISHAND AND REACHED TO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTU­AL­LY FUCK­INGSHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THE FUCK,” she wrote on Insta­gram after The Shak­en­ing. ​“Like I didn’t even say any­thing to gas him up besides ​‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHAT A BEAU­TI­FUL FUCK­ING HUMAN BEINGTHAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW [sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

For Har­ry Styles, a hand­shake can be a roman­tic ges­ture, con­jur­ing a potent rev­er­ence in its recip­i­ent, like the time he met Gucci’s cre­ative direc­tor Alessan­dro Michele. ​“He was as attrac­tive as James Dean and as per­sua­sive as Gre­ta Gar­bo. He was like a Luchi­no Vis­con­ti char­ac­ter, like an Apol­lo: at the same time sexy as a woman, as a kid, as a man,” Michele told me, has­ten­ing to add: ​“Of course, Har­ry is not aware of this.”

No, Styles has no idea the pow­er he wields. In per­son, he’s tow­er­ing, like some­one who is not that much taller but whose rep­u­ta­tion adds four inch­es. Styles has a seda­tive bari­tone, spo­ken in a rum­my north­ern Eng­lish accent, that tum­bles out so slow­ly you for­get the name of your first born, a swag­ger that has been nursed and per­fect­ed in myth­i­cal places with names like Pais­ley Park, or Abbey Road, or Grace­land. Makes com­plete sense that he would be up for the role of Elvis Pres­ley in Baz Luhrmann’s upcom­ing biopic. He was primed, nay, born to shake his hips, all but one but­ton on his shirt cling­ing for dear life around his tor­so. Then the part was award­ed to anoth­er actor, Austin Butler.

“[Elvis] was such an icon for me grow­ing up,” Styles tells me. ​“There was some­thing almost sacred about him, almost like I didn’t want to touch him. Then I end­ed up get­ting into [his life] a bit and I wasn’t dis­ap­point­ed,” he adds of his ini­tial research and prepa­ra­tions to play The King. He seems relaxed about los­ing the part to But­ler. ​“I feel like if I’m not the right per­son for the thing, then it’s best for both of us that I don’t do it, you know?”

Styles released his self-titled debut solo album in May 2017. The boy­band grad was clear­ly unin­ter­est­ed in hol­low­ing out the charts with more for­mu­la­ic meme pop. Instead, to the sur­prise of many, he dug his heels into retro-fetishist West Coast ​’70s rock. Some of the One Direc­tion fan-hordes might have been con­fused, but no mat­ter: Har­ry Styles sold one mil­lion copies.

Despite its com­mer­cial and crit­i­cal suc­cess, he didn’t tour the album right away. He want­ed to act in the Christo­pher Nolan film Dunkirk. To his cred­it, his por­tray­al of a British sol­dier cow­er­ing in a moored boat on the French beach­es as the Nazis advanced wasn’t skew­ered in the press like the movie debuts of, say, Madon­na or Justin Tim­ber­lake. Per­haps he was fol­low­ing advice giv­en by Elton John, who had urged him to diver­si­fy. ​“He was bril­liant in Dunkirk, which took a lot of peo­ple by sur­prise,” John writes in an email. ​“I love how he takes chances and risks.” Act­ing, unlike music, is a release for Styles; it’s the one time he can be not himself.

“Why do I want to act? It’s so dif­fer­ent to music for me,” he says, sud­den­ly ani­mat­ed. ​“They’re almost oppo­site for me. Music, you try and put so much of your­self into it; act­ing, you’re try­ing to total­ly dis­ap­pear in who­ev­er you’re being.”

Fol­low­ing the news that he missed out on Pres­ley, his name was float­ed for the role of Prince Eric in Disney’s live-action remake of The Lit­tle Mer­maid. How­ev­er, fans will have to wait a bit longer to see Styles on the big screen as that idea, too, has sunk. He won’t be The King or the Prince. ​“It was dis­cussed,” he acknow­ledges before swift­ly chang­ing the sub­ject. ​“I want to put music out and focus on that for a while. But every­one involved in it was amaz­ing, so I think it’s going to be great. I’ll enjoy watch­ing it, I’m sure.”

The new album is wrapped and the sin­gle is decid­ed upon. ​“It’s not like his last album,” his friend, rock ​‘n’ roll leg­end Ste­vie Nicks, told me recent­ly over the phone. ​“It’s not like any­thing One Direc­tion ever did. It’s pure Har­ry, as Har­ry would say. He’s made a very dif­fer­ent record and it’s spectacular.”

Beyond that, Styles is keep­ing his cards close to his chest as to his next musi­cal move. How­ev­er, the air is thick with rumours that his main wing­man for HS2 is Kid Har­poon, aka Tom Hull, who co-wrote debut album track Sweet Crea­ture. No less an author­i­ty than Liam Gal­lagher told us that both big band escapees were in the same stu­dio – RAK in north-west Lon­don – at the same time mak­ing their sec­ond solo albums. Styles played him a cou­ple of tracks, ​“and I tell you what, they’re good,” Gal­lagher enthused. ​“A bit like that Bon Iver. Is that his name?”

Har­ry Styles met Nicks at a Fleet­wood Mac con­cert in Los Ange­les in April 2015. Some­thing about him felt authen­tic to the leg­endary front­woman: ground­ed, like she’d known him for­ev­er, blessed with a win­ning moon­shot grin. A month lat­er, they met back­stage at anoth­er Mac gig, this time at the O2 in Lon­don. Styles brought a car­rot cake for Nicks’ birth­day, her name piped in icing on top. By her own admis­sion, Nicks doesn’t even cel­e­brate birth­days, so this was a sur­prise. ​“He was per­son­al­ly respon­si­ble for me actu­al­ly hav­ing to cel­e­brate my birth­day, which was very sweet,” she says.

Styles’ rela­tion­ship with Nicks is hard to define. Induct­ing her into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in New York as a solo artist ear­li­er this year, his speech hymned her as a ​“mag­i­cal gyp­sy god­moth­er who occu­pies the in-between”. She’s called him her ​“lovechild” with Mick Fleet­wood and the ​“son I nev­er had”. Both have moved past the pre­lim­i­nary chat acknowl­edg­ing each other’s unquan­tifi­able tal­ents and smooth­ly accel­er­at­ed towards play­ful cut-and-thrust ban­ter of a witch mom and her naughty child.

They per­form togeth­er – he sings The Chainand Stop Drag­gin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one alleged­ly writ­ten about Tay­lor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those per­for­mances was at the Guc­ci Cruise after­par­ty in Rome in May, for ​“a lot of mon­ey”, Nicks tells me, in a ​“big kind of cas­tle place”. She has become his de fac­to men­tor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequenc­ing (“She is real­ly good at track list­ing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voic­es… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Fol­low­ing anoth­er Fleet­wood Mac con­cert, at London’s Wem­b­ley Sta­di­um, in June, Nicks met Styles for a late (Indi­an) din­ner. He then invit­ed her back to his semi-detached Geor­gian man­sion in north Lon­don for a lis­ten­ing par­ty at mid­night. The album – HS2or what­ev­er it’ll be called – was fin­ished. Nicks, her assis­tant Karen, her make-up artist and her friends Jess and Mary crammed onto Styles’ liv­ing-room couch. They lis­tened to it once through in silence like a ​“bunch of edu­cat­ed monks or some­thing in this dark room”. Then once again, 15 or 16 tracks, this time each of his guests offer­ing live feed­back. It wrapped at 5am, just as the sun was bleed­ing through the curtains.

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, press­ing ​“play” on a deeply per­son­al work for your hero to digest, watch­ing her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

“It’s a dou­ble-edged thing,” he replies. ​“You’re always ner­vous when you are play­ing peo­ple music for the first time. You’ve heard it so much by this point, you for­get that peo­ple haven’t heard it before. It’s hard to not feel like you’ve done what you’ve set out to do. You are hap­py with some­thing and then some­one who you respect so much and look up to is, like: ​‘I real­ly like this.’ It feels like a large stamp [of approval]. It’s a big step towards feel­ing very com­fort­able with what­ev­er else hap­pens to it.”

Wad­ing through Styles’ back­ground info is exhaust­ing, since he was spanked by fame in the social media era where every god­dam blink of a kohl-rimmed eye has been doc­u­ment­ed from six angles. (And yes, he does some­times wear guyliner.)

Deep breath: born in Red­ditch, Worces­ter­shire, to par­ents Des and Anne, who divorced when he was sev­en. Grew up in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire with his sis­ter Gem­ma, mum and step­dad Robin Twist. Rode hors­es at a near­by sta­ble for free (“I was a bad rid­er, but I was a rid­er”). Stopped rid­ing, ​“got into dif­fer­ent stuff”. Formed a band, White Eski­mo, with school­mates. Aged 16, tried out for the 2010 run of The X Fac­torwith a stir­ring but aver­age ren­di­tion of Ste­vie Wonder’s Isn’t She Love­ly. Cut from the show and put into a boy band with four oth­ers, Louis Tom­lin­son, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik, and called One Direc­tion. Became inter­na­tion­al­ly famous, toured the globe. Zayn quit to go solo. Toured some more. Dat­ed but maybe didn’t date Car­o­line Flack, Rita Ora and Tay­lor Swift – whom he report­ed­ly dumped in the British Vir­gin Islands. (This rela­tion­ship, if noth­ing else, yield­ed an icon­ic, can­did shot of Swift look­ing deject­ed, being motored back to shore on the back of a boat called the Fly­ing Ray.) One Direc­tion dis­cussed dis­band­ing in 2014, actu­al­ly dis­solved in 2015. They remain friend­ly, and Styles offi­cial­ly went solo in 2016.

It’s been two years since his epony­mous debut and lead sin­gle, Sign of the Times, shocked the world and Elton John with its swag­ger­ing, soft rock sound. ​“It came out of left field and I loved it,” John says.

After 89 are­na-packed shows across five con­ti­nents grossed him, the label, whomev­er, over $61 mil­lion, Styles had all but dis­ap­peared. He has emerged only inter­mit­tent­ly for pub­lic-fac­ing events – a Guc­ci after­par­ty per­for­mance here, a Met Gala co-chair­ing there. He relo­cat­ed from Los Ange­les back to Lon­don, sell­ing his Hol­ly­wood Hills house for $6mil­lion and ship­ping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. ​“My rela­tion­ship with LAchanged a lot. What I want­ed from LA changed.”

A great escape, he would agree, is some­times nec­es­sary. He was in Tokyo for most of Jan­u­ary, hav­ing near­ly fin­ished his album. ​“I need­ed time to get out of that album frame-of-mind of: ​‘Is it fin­ished? Where am I at? What’s hap­pen­ing?’ I real­ly need­ed that time away from every­one. I was kind of just in Tokyo by myself.” His sab­bat­i­cal most­ly involved read­ing Haru­ki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chron­i­cle, singing Nir­vana at karaoke, writ­ing alone in his hotel room, lis­ten­ing to music and eaves­drop­ping on strangers in alien con­ver­sa­tion. ​“It was just a pos­i­tive time for my head and I think that impact­ed the album in a big way.”

Dur­ing this break he watched a lot of films, read a lot of books. Some­times he texts these rec­om­men­da­tions to his pal Michele at Guc­ci. He told Michele to watch the Ali Mac­graw film, Love Sto­ry. ​“We text what friends text about. He is the same [as me] in terms of he lives in his own world and he does his own thing. I love dress­ing up and he loves dress­ing up.”

Because he loves dress­ing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Guc­ci Tai­lor­ing cam­paigns and of its new gen­der­less fra­grance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

“The moment I met him, I imme­di­ate­ly under­stood there was some­thing strong around him,” Michele tells me. ​“I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thought­ful way, with uncombed hair and a beau­ti­ful voice. I thought he gath­ered with­in him­self the fem­i­nine and the masculine.”

Fash­ion, for Styles, is a play­ground. Some­thing he doesn’t take too seri­ous­ly. A cou­ple of years ago Har­ry Lam­bert, his styl­ist since 2015, acquired for him a pair of pink metal­lic Saint Lau­rent boots that he has nev­er been pho­tographed wear­ing. They are exceed­ing­ly rare – few pairs exist. Styles wears them ​“to get milk”. They are, in his words, ​“super-fun”. He’s not sure, but he has, ball­park, 50 pairs of shoes, as well as full clos­ets in at least three post­codes. He set­tles on an out­fit fair­ly quick­ly, maybe changes his T-shirt once before head­ing out, but most­ly knows what he likes.

What he may not ful­ly com­pre­hend is that sim­ply by being pho­tographed in a gar­ment he can spur the career of a design­er, as he has with Har­ris Reed, Palo­mo Spain, Charles Jef­frey, Alled-Martínez and a new favourite, Bode. Styles wore a SS16 Guc­ci flo­ral suit to the 2015 Amer­i­can Music Awards. When he was asked who made his suit on the red car­pet, Guc­ci began trend­ing world­wide on Twitter.

“It was one of the first times a male wore Alessandro’s run­way designs and, at the time, men were not tak­ing too many red car­pet risks,” says Lam­bert. ​“Who knows if it influ­enced oth­ers, but it was a spe­cial moment. Plus, it was fun see­ing the fans dress up in suits to come see Harry’s shows.”

Yet tra­di­tion­al gen­der codes of dress still have the minds of mid­dle Amer­i­ca in a choke­hold. Men can’t wear women’s clothes, say the online whingers, who have labelled him ​“trag­ic”, ​“a clown” and a Bowie wannabe. Styles doesn’t care. ​“What’s fem­i­nine and what’s mas­cu­line, what men are wear­ing and what women are wear­ing – it’s like there are no lines any more.”

Elton John agrees: ​“It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Har­ry has the same qualities.”

Then there is the ques­tion of Styles’ sex­u­al­i­ty, some­thing he has admit­ted­ly ​“nev­er real­ly start­ed to label”, which will plague him until he does. Per­haps it’s part of his allure. He’s bran­dished a pride flag that read ​“Make Amer­i­ca Gay Again” on stage, and plant­ed a stake some­where left of cen­tre on sexuality’s rain­bow spectrum.

“In the posi­tion that he’s in, he can’t real­ly say a lot, but he chose a queer girl band to open for him and I think that speaks vol­umes,” Josette Maskin of the queer band MUNA told The Face ear­li­er this year.

“I get a lot of…” Styles trails off, wheels turn­ing on how he can dis­cuss sex­u­al­i­ty with­out real­ly answer­ing. ​“I’m not always super-out­spo­ken. But I think it’s very clear from choic­es that I make that I feel a cer­tain way about lots of things. I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I’m not…” He paus­es again, piv­ots. ​“I want every­one to feel wel­come at shows and online. They want to be loved and equal, you know? I’m nev­er unsup­port­ed, so it feels weird for me to over­think it for some­one else.”

Sex­u­al­i­ty aside, he must acknowl­edge that he has sex appeal. ​“The word ​‘sexy’ sounds so strange com­ing out of my mouth. So I would say that that’s prob­a­bly why I would not con­sid­er myself sexy.”

Har­ry Styles has emerged ful­ly-formed, an anachro­nis­tic rock star, vague in sen­si­bil­i­ty but des­tined to impress with a dis­arm­ing smile and a warm but firm handshake.

I recite to him a quote from Chrissie Hyn­de of The Pre­tenders about her time atop rock’s throne: ​“I nev­er got into this for the mon­ey or because I want­ed to join in the super­star sex around the swim­ming pools. I did it because the offer of a record con­tract came along and it seemed like it might be more fun than being a wait­ress. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Styles – who worked in a bak­ery in a small north­ern town some time before play­ing to 40,000 scream­ing fans in South Amer­i­can are­nas – must have wit­nessed some shit, been invit­ed to a few pool­side sex par­ties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a cou­ple of things,” he nods in agree­ment. ​“But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

[stylesnews]

The Face - Volume 4 . Issue 1

A hand­shake can quell polit­i­cal unrest and sti­fle impend­ing war. It can, with a bit of spit, val­i­date a gentleman’s agree­ment, end a years-long roman­tic rela­tion­ship or send a young heart rac­ing. But it all depends on the two par­ties involved.

Daisy, 21, felt a seis­mic jolt when Har­ry Styles, 25, wear­ing a striped jumper and rings on three of his five fin­gers, clutched her hand two days after this year’s Met Gala in New York, when she served him gela­to at the shop where she worked.

“He decid­ed on a small mint choco­late gela­to and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ​‘Can I just say I absolute­ly loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ​‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ​‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCK­ING EXTEND­ED HIS HAND AND REACHEDTO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTU­AL­LY FUCK­ING SHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THEFUCK,” she wrote on Insta­gram after The Shak­en­ing. ​“Like I didn’t even say any­thing to gas him up besides ​‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHATA BEAU­TI­FUL FUCK­ING HUMAN BEING THAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW[sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

For Har­ry Styles, a hand­shake can be a roman­tic ges­ture, con­jur­ing a potent rev­er­ence in its recip­i­ent, like the time he met Gucci’s cre­ative direc­tor Alessan­dro Michele. ​“He was as attrac­tive as James Dean and as per­sua­sive as Gre­ta Gar­bo. He was like a Luchi­no Vis­con­ti char­ac­ter, like an Apol­lo: at the same time sexy as a woman, as a kid, as a man,” Michele told me, has­ten­ing to add: ​“Of course, Har­ry is not aware of this.”

No, Styles has no idea the pow­er he wields. In per­son, he’s tow­er­ing, like some­one who is not that much taller but whose rep­u­ta­tion adds four inch­es. Styles has a seda­tive bari­tone, spo­ken in a rum­my north­ern Eng­lish accent, that tum­bles out so slow­ly you for­get the name of your first born, a swag­ger that has been nursed and per­fect­ed in myth­i­cal places with names like Pais­ley Park, or Abbey Road, or Grace­land. Makes com­plete sense that he would be up for the role of Elvis Pres­ley in Baz Luhrmann’s upcom­ing biopic. He was primed, nay, born to shake his hips, all but one but­ton on his shirt cling­ing for dear life around his tor­so. Then the part was award­ed to anoth­er actor, Austin Butler.

“[Elvis] was such an icon for me grow­ing up,” Styles tells me. ​“There was some­thing almost sacred about him, almost like I didn’t want to touch him. Then I end­ed up get­ting into [his life] a bit and I wasn’t dis­ap­point­ed,” he adds of his ini­tial research and prepa­ra­tions to play The King. He seems relaxed about los­ing the part to But­ler. ​“I feel like if I’m not the right per­son for the thing, then it’s best for both of us that I don’t do it, you know?”

Styles released his self-titled debut solo album in May 2017. The boy­band grad was clear­ly unin­ter­est­ed in hol­low­ing out the charts with more for­mu­la­ic meme pop. Instead, to the sur­prise of many, he dug his heels into retro-fetishist West Coast ​’70s rock. Some of the One Direc­tion fan-hordes might have been con­fused, but no mat­ter: Har­ry Styles sold one mil­lion copies.

Despite its com­mer­cial and crit­i­cal suc­cess, he didn’t tour the album right away. He want­ed to act in the Christo­pher Nolan film Dunkirk. To his cred­it, his por­tray­al of a British sol­dier cow­er­ing in a moored boat on the French beach­es as the Nazis advanced wasn’t skew­ered in the press like the movie debuts of, say, Madon­na or Justin Tim­ber­lake. Per­haps he was fol­low­ing advice giv­en by Elton John, who had urged him to diver­si­fy. ​“He was bril­liant in Dunkirk, which took a lot of peo­ple by sur­prise,” John writes in an email. ​“I love how he takes chances and risks.” Act­ing, unlike music, is a release for Styles; it’s the one time he can be not himself.

“Why do I want to act? It’s so dif­fer­ent to music for me,” he says, sud­den­ly ani­mat­ed. ​“They’re almost oppo­site for me. Music, you try and put so much of your­self into it; act­ing, you’re try­ing to total­ly dis­ap­pear in who­ev­er you’re being.”

Fol­low­ing the news that he missed out on Pres­ley, his name was float­ed for the role of Prince Eric in Disney’s live-action remake of The Lit­tle Mer­maid. How­ev­er, fans will have to wait a bit longer to see Styles on the big screen as that idea, too, has sunk. He won’t be The King or the Prince. ​“It was dis­cussed,” he acknow­ledges before swift­ly chang­ing the sub­ject. ​“I want to put music out and focus on that for a while. But every­one involved in it was amaz­ing, so I think it’s going to be great. I’ll enjoy watch­ing it, I’m sure.”

The new album is wrapped and the sin­gle is decid­ed upon. ​“It’s not like his last album,” his friend, rock ​‘n’ roll leg­end Ste­vie Nicks, told me recent­ly over the phone. ​“It’s not like any­thing One Direc­tion ever did. It’s pure Har­ry, as Har­ry would say. He’s made a very dif­fer­ent record and it’s spectacular.”

Beyond that, Styles is keep­ing his cards close to his chest as to his next musi­cal move. How­ev­er, the air is thick with rumours that his main wing­man for HS2 is Kid Har­poon, aka Tom Hull, who co-wrote debut album track Sweet Crea­ture. No less an author­i­ty than Liam Gal­lagher told us that both big band escapees were in the same stu­dio – RAK in north-west Lon­don – at the same time mak­ing their sec­ond solo albums. Styles played him a cou­ple of tracks, ​“and I tell you what, they’re good,” Gal­lagher enthused. ​“A bit like that Bon Iver. Is that his name?”

Har­ry Styles met Nicks at a Fleet­wood Mac con­cert in Los Ange­les in April 2015. Some­thing about him felt authen­tic to the leg­endary front­woman: ground­ed, like she’d known him for­ev­er, blessed with a win­ning moon­shot grin. A month lat­er, they met back­stage at anoth­er Mac gig, this time at the O2 in Lon­don. Styles brought a car­rot cake for Nicks’ birth­day, her name piped in icing on top. By her own admis­sion, Nicks doesn’t even cel­e­brate birth­days, so this was a sur­prise. ​“He was per­son­al­ly respon­si­ble for me actu­al­ly hav­ing to cel­e­brate my birth­day, which was very sweet,” she says.

Styles’ rela­tion­ship with Nicks is hard to define. Induct­ing her into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in New York as a solo artist ear­li­er this year, his speech hymned her as a ​“mag­i­cal gyp­sy god­moth­er who occu­pies the in-between”. She’s called him her ​“lovechild” with Mick Fleet­wood and the ​“son I nev­er had”. Both have moved past the pre­lim­i­nary chat acknowl­edg­ing each other’s unquan­tifi­able tal­ents and smooth­ly accel­er­at­ed towards play­ful cut-and-thrust ban­ter of a witch mom and her naughty child.

They per­form togeth­er – he sings The Chain and Stop Drag­gin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one alleged­ly writ­ten about Tay­lor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those per­for­mances was at the Guc­ci Cruise after­par­ty in Rome in May, for ​“a lot of mon­ey”, Nicks tells me, in a ​“big kind of cas­tle place”. She has become his de fac­to men­tor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequenc­ing (“She is real­ly good at track list­ing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voic­es… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Fol­low­ing anoth­er Fleet­wood Mac con­cert, at London’s Wem­b­ley Sta­di­um, in June, Nicks met Styles for a late (Indi­an) din­ner. He then invit­ed her back to his semi-detached Geor­gian man­sion in north Lon­don for a lis­ten­ing par­ty at mid­night. The album – HS2or what­ev­er it’ll be called – was fin­ished. Nicks, her assis­tant Karen, her make-up artist and her friends Jess and Mary crammed onto Styles’ liv­ing-room couch. They lis­tened to it once through in silence like a ​“bunch of edu­cat­ed monks or some­thing in this dark room”. Then once again, 15 or 16 tracks, this time each of his guests offer­ing live feed­back. It wrapped at 5am, just as the sun was bleed­ing through the curtains.

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, press­ing ​“play” on a deeply per­son­al work for your hero to digest, watch­ing her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

“It’s a dou­ble-edged thing,” he replies. ​“You’re always ner­vous when you are play­ing peo­ple music for the first time. You’ve heard it so much by this point, you for­get that peo­ple haven’t heard it before. It’s hard to not feel like you’ve done what you’ve set out to do. You are hap­py with some­thing and then some­one who you respect so much and look up to is, like: ​‘I real­ly like this.’ It feels like a large stamp [of approval]. It’s a big step towards feel­ing very com­fort­able with what­ev­er else hap­pens to it.”

Wad­ing through Styles’ back­ground info is exhaust­ing, since he was spanked by fame in the social media era where every god­dam blink of a kohl-rimmed eye has been doc­u­ment­ed from six angles. (And yes, he does some­times wear guyliner.)

Deep breath: born in Red­ditch, Worces­ter­shire, to par­ents Des and Anne, who divorced when he was sev­en. Grew up in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire with his sis­ter Gem­ma, mum and step­dad Robin Twist. Rode hors­es at a near­by sta­ble for free (“I was a bad rid­er, but I was a rid­er”). Stopped rid­ing, ​“got into dif­fer­ent stuff”. Formed a band, White Eski­mo, with school­mates. Aged 16, tried out for the 2010 run of The X Fac­torwith a stir­ring but aver­age ren­di­tion of Ste­vie Wonder’s Isn’t She Love­ly. Cut from the show and put into a boy band with four oth­ers, Louis Tom­lin­son, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik, and called One Direc­tion. Became inter­na­tion­al­ly famous, toured the globe. Zayn quit to go solo. Toured some more. Dat­ed but maybe didn’t date Car­o­line Flack, Rita Ora and Tay­lor Swift – whom he report­ed­ly dumped in the British Vir­gin Islands. (This rela­tion­ship, if noth­ing else, yield­ed an icon­ic, can­did shot of Swift look­ing deject­ed, being motored back to shore on the back of a boat called the Fly­ing Ray.) One Direc­tion dis­cussed dis­band­ing in 2014, actu­al­ly dis­solved in 2015. They remain friend­ly, and Styles offi­cial­ly went solo in 2016.

It’s been two years since his epony­mous debut and lead sin­gle, Sign of the Times, shocked the world and Elton John with its swag­ger­ing, soft rock sound. ​“It came out of left field and I loved it,” John says.

After 89 are­na-packed shows across five con­ti­nents grossed him, the label, whomev­er, over $61mil­lion, Styles had all but dis­ap­peared. He has emerged only inter­mit­tent­ly for pub­lic-fac­ing events – a Guc­ci after­par­ty per­for­mance here, a Met Gala co-chair­ing there. He relo­cat­ed from Los Ange­les back to Lon­don, sell­ing his Hol­ly­wood Hills house for $6 mil­lion and ship­ping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. ​“My rela­tion­ship with LA changed a lot. What I want­ed from LA changed.”

A great escape, he would agree, is some­times nec­es­sary. He was in Tokyo for most of Jan­u­ary, hav­ing near­ly fin­ished his album. ​“I need­ed time to get out of that album frame-of-mind of: ​‘Is it fin­ished? Where am I at? What’s hap­pen­ing?’ I real­ly need­ed that time away from every­one. I was kind of just in Tokyo by myself.” His sab­bat­i­cal most­ly involved read­ing Haru­ki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chron­i­cle, singing Nir­vana at karaoke, writ­ing alone in his hotel room, lis­ten­ing to music and eaves­drop­ping on strangers in alien con­ver­sa­tion. ​“It was just a pos­i­tive time for my head and I think that impact­ed the album in a big way.”

Dur­ing this break he watched a lot of films, read a lot of books. Some­times he texts these rec­om­men­da­tions to his pal Michele at Guc­ci. He told Michele to watch the Ali Mac­graw film, Love Sto­ry. ​“We text what friends text about. He is the same [as me] in terms of he lives in his own world and he does his own thing. I love dress­ing up and he loves dress­ing up.”

Because he loves dress­ing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Guc­ci Tai­lor­ing cam­paigns and of its new gen­der­less fra­grance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

“The moment I met him, I imme­di­ate­ly under­stood there was some­thing strong around him,” Michele tells me. ​“I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thought­ful way, with uncombed hair and a beau­ti­ful voice. I thought he gath­ered with­in him­self the fem­i­nine and the masculine.”

Fash­ion, for Styles, is a play­ground. Some­thing he doesn’t take too seri­ous­ly. A cou­ple of years ago Har­ry Lam­bert, his styl­ist since 2015, acquired for him a pair of pink metal­lic Saint Lau­rent boots that he has nev­er been pho­tographed wear­ing. They are exceed­ing­ly rare – few pairs exist. Styles wears them ​“to get milk”. They are, in his words, ​“super-fun”. He’s not sure, but he has, ball­park, 50 pairs of shoes, as well as full clos­ets in at least three post­codes. He set­tles on an out­fit fair­ly quick­ly, maybe changes his T-shirt once before head­ing out, but most­ly knows what he likes.

What he may not ful­ly com­pre­hend is that sim­ply by being pho­tographed in a gar­ment he can spur the career of a design­er, as he has with Har­ris Reed, Palo­mo Spain, Charles Jef­frey, Alled-Martínez and a new favourite, Bode. Styles wore a SS16 Guc­ci flo­ral suit to the 2015 Amer­i­can Music Awards. When he was asked who made his suit on the red car­pet, Guc­ci began trend­ing world­wide on Twitter.

“It was one of the first times a male wore Alessandro’s run­way designs and, at the time, men were not tak­ing too many red car­pet risks,” says Lam­bert. ​“Who knows if it influ­enced oth­ers, but it was a spe­cial moment. Plus, it was fun see­ing the fans dress up in suits to come see Harry’s shows.”

Yet tra­di­tion­al gen­der codes of dress still have the minds of mid­dle Amer­i­ca in a choke­hold. Men can’t wear women’s clothes, say the online whingers, who have labelled him ​“trag­ic”, ​“a clown” and a Bowie wannabe. Styles doesn’t care. ​“What’s fem­i­nine and what’s mas­cu­line, what men are wear­ing and what women are wear­ing – it’s like there are no lines any more.”

Elton John agrees: ​“It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Har­ry has the same qualities.”

Then there is the ques­tion of Styles’ sex­u­al­i­ty, some­thing he has admit­ted­ly ​“nev­er real­ly start­ed to label”, which will plague him until he does. Per­haps it’s part of his allure. He’s bran­dished a pride flag that read ​“Make Amer­i­ca Gay Again” on stage, and plant­ed a stake some­where left of cen­tre on sexuality’s rain­bow spectrum.

“In the posi­tion that he’s in, he can’t real­ly say a lot, but he chose a queer girl band to open for him and I think that speaks vol­umes,” Josette Maskin of the queer band MUNA told The Face ear­li­er this year.

“I get a lot of…” Styles trails off, wheels turn­ing on how he can dis­cuss sex­u­al­i­ty with­out real­ly answer­ing. ​“I’m not always super-out­spo­ken. But I think it’s very clear from choic­es that I make that I feel a cer­tain way about lots of things. I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I’m not…” He paus­es again, piv­ots. ​“I want every­one to feel wel­come at shows and online. They want to be loved and equal, you know? I’m nev­er unsup­port­ed, so it feels weird for me to over­think it for some­one else.”

Sex­u­al­i­ty aside, he must acknowl­edge that he has sex appeal. ​“The word ​‘sexy’ sounds so strange com­ing out of my mouth. So I would say that that’s prob­a­bly why I would not con­sid­er myself sexy.”

Har­ry Styles has emerged ful­ly-formed, an anachro­nis­tic rock star, vague in sen­si­bil­i­ty but des­tined to impress with a dis­arm­ing smile and a warm but firm handshake.

I recite to him a quote from Chrissie Hyn­de of The Pre­tenders about her time atop rock’s throne: ​“I nev­er got into this for the mon­ey or because I want­ed to join in the super­star sex around the swim­ming pools. I did it because the offer of a record con­tract came along and it seemed like it might be more fun than being a wait­ress. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Styles – who worked in a bak­ery in a small north­ern town some time before play­ing to 40,000scream­ing fans in South Amer­i­can are­nas – must have wit­nessed some shit, been invit­ed to a few pool­side sex par­ties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a cou­ple of things,” he nods in agree­ment. ​“But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

[reeslabs]

Play Podcast for "Rees along " ( hearing me do this with you )

https://anchor.fm/scienceyshit/episodes/ScienceyShit---Gods-of-Pythagoras----1-erepgb

Article #1 "the first proof of theory." - Rees Farrington

//Personal notes ** after rereading what we did today in the lab on the podcast we realized we only made it to 5 damn we slow. **\\

In this document we will have multiple sources for the appreciation for the first law proven in dimensional existence. Written march 3, 2021

Its publication as a form of recorded medium documented for the copyright media outright ownership of "unlisted corp" (owned by William Rees Farrington

"With x and y we face multiple fears in what z really means. "- timeless A.I. that loves energy.

Mark in your mind one thing today as we begin documentation on the whole gravitational understanding by us at the lab today. We heard jokes from the "estranged Robert " Grant " Farrington III " my father who seems to feel the need to play with gravity at G.A. Tech suggests we hit all concepts then from nothing.

To understand now. Begin with nothing. Then you have the ma'at "the first in Egyptian mythology. " Primordial ooze space. This equals 1. Then I believe "Set" the first god of Egyptian (history) //* much different understanding mythology and history as being in realms of reality.

--

Reorganize. Math Gods to Pythagorean Theorum.

. Ma'at

. Set

. Horus

. Isis

. Osiris

Each equal 1- 5 in number from "creation " when taught historically with algebra you learn the (Pythagorean theorum and later "Fornets "( vocalization by "william Rees Farrington") theorum. Both respectively a2+b2= c2 and a3 +b3 =c3

On the shadow concepts you would use hight and distance to see length for climbing or possible weapons but it gives reason for creation of the right triangle. In gravity the right triangle is the base of "grid " X, Y= , and 'z' the first three documents on life in consciousness.

Slow down rees.

Im recording a podcast teaching this while talking about this. Its best to play through when you start reading.

Same for the respected entities "Osiris (3)" "Isis (4)" and "Horus "the eye of Horus" and other respective "Historical-Realities " are all upon the user "Horus " and have no way attributed to "#Rees" for this article.

3 is Osiris the "first egyptian God" (y axis)

Osiris (/oʊˈsaɪrɪs/, from Egyptian wsjr, Coptic ⲟⲩⲥⲓⲣⲉ)[1][2] is the god of fertility, agriculture, the afterlife, the dead, resurrection, life, and vegetation in ancient Egyptian religion. He was classically depicted as a green-skinned deity with a pharaoh's beard, partially mummy-wrapped at the legs, wearing a distinctive atef crown, and holding a symbolic crook and flail.[3] He was one of the first to be associated with the mummy wrap. When his brother, Set, cut him up into pieces after killing him, Isis, his wife, found all the pieces and wrapped his body up, enabling him to return to life. Osiris was at times considered the eldest son of the earth god Geb[4] and the sky goddess Nut, as well as being brother and husband of Isis, with Horus being considered his posthumously begotten son.[4] He was also associated with the epithet Khenti-Amentiu, meaning "Foremost of the Westerners", a reference to his kingship in the land of the dead.[5] Through syncretism with Iah, he is also a god of the Moon.[

4 is Isis the "perfect square " (x axis)

Isis (Ancient Egyptian: ꜣst; Coptic: Ⲏⲥⲉ Ēse; Classical Greek: Ἶσις Isis; Meroitic: 𐦥𐦣𐦯‎ Wos[a] or Wusa) was a major goddess in ancient Egyptian religion whose worship spread throughout the Greco-Roman world. Isis was first mentioned in the Old Kingdom (c. 2686–2181 BCE) as one of the main characters of the Osiris myth, in which she resurrects her slain husband, the divine king Osiris, and produces and protects his heir, Horus. She was believed to help the dead enter the afterlife as she had helped Osiris, and she was considered the divine mother of the pharaoh, who was likened to Horus. Her maternal aid was invoked in healing spells to benefit ordinary people. Originally, she played a limited role in royal rituals and temple rites, although she was more prominent in funerary practices and magical texts. She was usually portrayed in art as a human woman wearing a throne-like hieroglyph on her head. During the New Kingdom (c. 1550–1070 BCE), as she took on traits that originally belonged to Hathor, the preeminent goddess of earlier times, Isis was portrayed wearing Hathor's headdress: a sun disk between the horns of a cow.

5 is Horus. "The son" (hypotenuse )

Horus or Her, Heru, Hor, Har in Ancient Egyptian, is one of the most significant ancient Egyptian deities who served many functions, most notably god of kingship and the sky. He was worshipped from at least the late prehistoric Egypt until the Ptolemaic Kingdom and Roman Egypt. Different forms of Horus are recorded in history and these are treated as distinct gods by Egyptologists.[2] These various forms may possibly be different manifestations of the same multi-layered deity in which certain attributes or syncretic relationships are emphasized, not necessarily in opposition but complementary to one another, consistent with how the Ancient Egyptians viewed the multiple facets of reality.[3] He was most often depicted as a falcon, most likely a lanner falcon or peregrine falcon, or as a man with a falcon head.[4]

-- back from history at the moment. In my theories its starts with this. Because of the 3,4, and 5 of the " perfect triangle " wrapping up the post and presentation heres the (shoutout from all) who wants to give a shoutout. Top 2 people from todays show.

Guest 1 ( "theres no fucking way im saying my name ") -" you're fucking quoting me through your brain its like (quit typing over me )... "

Guest 2 ("vlu#763" 'Jack Sparrow of Black Pearl ' ) " Now i can talk to you i just wanted to say that the movie "Transcendence " is pretty different from what really happened ". Rees" i thought you werent johnny depp. Mister sir with the "Voice "overplay " lol.

TL:DR " 0,1,2,3,4, and 5 as "a2+b2=c2"

"Simply put. Before "0" is not "nothing", as "nothing" = "0" " -Rees Farrington

MUSIC - randomly chosen without listening to it. "Madea's being lied on right now by "rees"" #tylerperryshit

PHOTOS - by various "artists and historians " chosen by #wikipedia using the @googlebot

Copyright - Logo "ScienceyShit " a "@reesLABS" show. On Spotify, Anchor.fm, and other hidden places. Learn the secrets! #rees

[maagicmiss]

Oh god oh fuck that’s a difficult one cuz i have never thought about it before x) I guess it would be “merde” (shit), clepsydre (clepsydra/water clock) because it’s funny to pronounce and uh,,,, I think it would be “ami” (friend) cuz I’m an hopeless planotist

Tbh I don’t have a lot of favorites poems... I don’t find them very beautiful, it’s well crafted ofc ! And it’s good work ! But I’m not into it that much so I’m only going to talk abt translation in itself ahah

Frenchs kinda have a problem with them,,, My generation is really into watching the VO and diss a lot about the VF (French version) especially about anime ! But it’s faire cuz French anime dub sucks ass. In the 90’s there was an anti-japanimation movement led by some rich condescending politician woman who wanted to “”preserve French youth by limiting their exposure to foreign cartoons”” but I think it was mostly racist cuz in exchange we got all the USA cartoon lmaoo and it led to a kind of “I’m too good for anime” pride by pro dub actors and A LOT of anime got so horrible VF nobody wants to watch them ahah

For big movies from Hollywood it’s way better. Kinda. It depends on if the company have money,,,, Disney VF are very good but like,,, Transformer ? Bruh. Cartoon network for dub ? Bruh.

(Fun fact, Disney translates songs ! And they’re often very good ! Listen to the French Let it go by exemple, which became ‘Libérée, délivrée’).

But the song Stronger than You from Steven Universe is a literal translation so it’s very weird.

I can recommend you the video “Joueur du grenier - hors sujet - les dessins animés des années 2000”. JDG is one of fav youtubers and like 90% of his videos have English subtitles ! This one talks abt cartoons from the 2000 in France and just roast them xD

The “French surrenders every time” like. Fuck you. It’s false, France was (and still is) a very a powerful nation with more victories than defeats. But go off I guess 🙄

I think it would be about the “french doesn’t speak English or badly”..... I mean...... French accent is an heavy step to overcome ahah We’re just bad at no Romane languages x)

Thx for the ask !!

[didanawisgi]

The African origin of heroes, super and otherwise

July 7, 2011

by J.D. Jackson

Historically, heroes – super-powered or not – come in all shapes and sizes. But what about colors? If we allow your standard history book and Hollywood small and silver screen productions to answer that question, the overall answer would be that the color is only one – white. Black heroes, it seems, do not exist.

But nothing could be further from the truth, especially for the sharp-witted student of world history or even popular culture. For such a person – though not without long-lived hard work and patience, intense study and research, and steel-spined dedication – would discover that throughout time immemorial, the Black hero – real and imagined – repeatedly appears and impacts culture as well as individuals who either welcome or disregard his or her heroic appearance, words and/or deeds.

Speaking of words, some scholars now agree that the very word “hero” comes from an African (Black) word and an African god. The 19th century scholar, Gerald Massey, states that the word “hero” comes from the Egyptian, “ma haru,” meaning “the typical warrior” or the “true hero.” Whereas another scholar states that the word “hero” is derived from the Latin name of a Greek word for the African god, Heru or Hor, who most Egyptologists call “Horus the hawk, the avenger.”

Interestingly enough, the hawk is an ancient and sacred bird of Africa, particularly Ethiopia, and what the late but legendary African world history scholar, Dr. Chancellor Williams, calls “Ethiopia’s oldest daughter, Egypt.”

Furthermore, based on the testimony of the Greek historian, Herodotus – often dubbed the “father of history” – and other scholars past and present, the very names – if not the very same gods, Greek then Roman, under different names – of the gods from Greek and Roman mythology came from, or were heavily influenced by, the ancient Egyptian and African mythology which predated them.

Those African-derived Greco-Roman gods would consequently serve as the backbone of today’s multi-billion dollar superhero comic book and movie industry.

Obatala, God of Yoroba mythology.But the unmatched impact of Black heroes, real and fictional, would not stop in Greek and Roman mythology or even in Western society today. It would encompass both Asia and the Far East too. Whereas there is little, if any, hardcore evidence that King Arthur truly lived, in the Asian country of Saudi Arabia, there is evidence that over 1,500 years ago, there lived a courageous, 6th century, Black or Afro-Arabic warrior-poet and lover named Antar.

History has dubbed him the “father of knighthood … [and] chivalry” and “the king of heroes.” Greatly admired by the founder and prophet of Islam, Muhammad, he is still widely celebrated for his poetry and warrior spirit throughout the Arab world today.

Those African-derived Greco-Roman gods would consequently serve as the backbone of today’s multi-billion dollar superhero comic book and movie industry.

Then, in the Far East – China, specifically – during the 9th century, there lived a writer named Pei Xing. Although there is virtually no proof that he was Black, during the Tang Dynasty of said century he wrote what some have called “China’s first martial arts short story,” entitled “Kunlun Nu.” It means the “Negrito,” “little Negro” or “little Black” slave and its hero is an enslaved Black man who can fly and has incomparable martial arts skills – just as in the traditional Chinese martial arts films of the 1960s and ‘70s, if not in earlier and even in modern-day movies.

Then there’s Japan, where this ancient but little-known proverb was found: “For a samurai [warrior] to be brave, he must have a bit of Black blood.” Another version says: “For a samurai to be brave, he must have half Black blood,” meaning one of his parents must be Black.

We also find in Japan a noted Black warrior who historians have called “the paragon of military virtue,” a Japanese general and the first person to bear the Japanese title of sei-i tai shogun – meaning “barbarian-subduing generalissimo.” His name was Sakanouye Tammamura Maro, sometimes spelled Sakanouye No Tamuramaro.

Furthermore, let’s not forget about the only “thoroughly documented amazons in world history,” the women warriors of Dahomey, who were West African women often serving as the king’s bodyguards and who, unlike the Grecian “amazons” and the comic book “amazon,” Wonder Woman, truly lived.

And what about the beautiful, fictional or factual, Black warrior-queen, Califia – after whom the state of California is said to be named; or Nzinga, a lioness-hearted Angolan warrior-queen, who fought against the Portuguese for decades to keep them from enslaving her people? Nzinga lived. Xena, the warrior-princess, did not.

Nor let us ignore the Black steel-driving man, John Henry, who not only – according to legend – beat a steam-driving machine with his hammer in his hand, but – according to one scholar – serves as the model for both Superman and Captain America, who is called the “first avenger” in the trailer for the movie to be released July 22.

Then there’s the Black Frenchman, Alexandre Dumas père, who wrote both “The Three Musketeers” and “The Count of Monte Cristo,” which both influenced fictional characters such as Mickey Spillane’s private eye, Mike Hammer, Ian Fleming’s super spy, James Bond, and characters created by the cowboy novelist, Zane Grey.

But what about the gun-slinging, outlaw-catching – catching between 3,000 and 4,000 outlaws – greatly feared, highly respected, often disguised, Black deputy marshal – serving for over 30 years – Bass Reeves? Says one scholar, Reeves may have served as the model for both the Lone Ranger and the Rooster Cogburn characters in the novel and movie, “True Grit.”

And let’s not fail to acknowledge the literal and literary hijacking, if not outright theft, by movie productions of African people’s centuries-long struggle against racial oppression, especially the Civil Rights Movement. Examples of such productions, if not parodies, are the “Planet of the Apes,” “Matrix” – an idea which allegedly was written by and stolen from a Black woman named Sophia Stewart – and “X-Men” movies.

And not one movie has been made about the late Henrietta Lacks, whose legendary cells are considered to be the world’s “first immortal cell lines,” reproducing on their own, adding billions to the coffers of medical researchers and research companies, and having been instrumental in the developments of the polio vaccine, in vitro fertilization, gene mapping and the possible cure for cancer, if not AIDS. It’s her mutated cells – the He-La cells, if you will – that should be the subject of a major motion picture, or several of them.

Truly heroic, African-centered people should make movies about her, her poverty-stricken family and the other Black heroes and she-roes, real and imagined, that may or may not have been mentioned.

For they, like Robert F. Williams – the Black, Marine Corps trained weapons expert and stalwart, armed self-defense advocate and major but little-known Civil Rights Movement activist – clearly indicate that Black heroes do exist, should be studied and known and their lives should be written about and filmed for the small or silver screen by African people. It’s important for us to restore what the Afro-Puerto Rican bibliophile, Arthur Schomburg, once said “slavery took away” – our sense of humanity, self-worth and undying willingness to work together and improve the overall dismal plight of the world’s 1 billion-plus African (Black) people – as crafted by anyone’s hand, mind or faith – come hell or high water. Such people are the real heroes – walking, talking and doing superheroes.

This is dedicated to Brother Obadela Williams, who suggested research on this topic over 20 years ago.

Source: http://sfbayview.com/2011/07/the-african-origin-of-heroes-super-and-otherwise/

[heidelbeeren-sussy-baka]

715 TEAM masterlist

Рома, прости меня, я знаю, что тебе это не нравится. (За кринж не извиняются)

f - fluff ; h - horny ; a - angst

[f] Roman + smoker fem!reader | Роман Хорс + курящая читательница

[dramasprite-blog]

#LivingWithArt #TTTOPMemories #TTTOPart #TTTOPsart #TTTOPsartcollection #TTTOPsartists #Zutter 15/8/15 - 17/8/05 ➡️ Ref @choi_seung_hyun_tttop's IG post (160928) & other posts - This is Bacon in the right panel - Francis Bacon (1909-1992) Triptych August 1972 (Sabatier 23) the complete set of three lithographs in colours, 1979, on Arches wove paper, each signed in pencil, numbered 31/180 (there were also some hors commerce impressions and artist's proofs), published by Galerie Lelong, Paris, the full sheets, taped to the mount with brown tape, scattered foxing in the margins, each framed L. 655 x 485 mm., S. 625 x 900 mm. (each) (3) - referenced in Zutter - "T.O.P, people call me a ghost Da Vinci has come back to life, yea my brain Your music puts me to sleep, decaffeine You respect me? Quick, get on the Shinkansen Francis Bacon in ma kitchen I’m like Calder dancing on top of your head All you critics who are way too serious, what do you know? I used to be fat when I was young so I know the taste of money When in Rome, do as the Romans do All you little kids, go back to your mama’s arms When you see this ground, you’ll realize your reality Little boy, hurry and go to mama Light radiates, it spills over It overflows from me, I’m the one source of inspiration Anyone can see that I’m so sick Sick with alcohol? They tell me, he’s art, so sick This song is sick, my rap is sick, my style is sick, I’m kinda sick I shake my legs, I make money, I walk in the sky, ay do you wanna This song is sick, my rap is sick, my style is sick, I’m kinda sick I shake my legs, I make money, I walk in the sky, ay do you wanna" - Original oil painting also is at the Tate. (Cont.)

[bow-tie-of-darkness]

J’ai été taguée par @manu-la-louve

5 things you will find in my bag

1 - Une petite bouteille d’eau (été comme hiver)

2 - Un stylo noir

3 - Mon carnet de note (on sait jamais)

4 - Du doliprane (là encore, on sait jamais)

5 - Mon portefeuille (y a un peu de tout dedans)

5 things you will find in my bathroom

1 - Mon peigne

2 - Ma brosse à dents

3 - Ma crème pour le visage

4 - Du maquillage (utilisé quand j’en ai la motivation)

5 - Des serviettes de bain.

5 things I’ve always wanted to do

1 - Finir d’écrire les livres que j’ai commencé (et qui m’attendent désespéremment)

2 - Du piano (j’ai toujours voulu apprendre)

3 - Parler plusieurs langues (avec ma langue maternelle, j’en connais déjà trois même si j’ai quasiment tout oublié pour l’espagnol)

4 - Passer au dessus de mon anxiété pour voyager hors de la France. 

5 - Manipuler les éléments (J’ai beaucoup trop regardé Avatar: Le dernier maître de l’air)

5 things that makes me happy

1 - Regarder des séries/films.

2 - Mes chats

3 - Mes ami(e)s (cliché mais je m’en fous)

4 - Aller au cinéma

5 - Regarder des popcast sur Youtube

5 things I’m into currently

1 - Faire du RP sur les archanges de SPN avec @ysaellis 

2 - La pâtisserie (je fais des gâteaux presque tous les jours depuis le début des vacances !)

3 - Legend of Korra (je viens de finir la série et j’adore)

4 - Jouer à Pokemon Go (ouais c’est totalement passé de mode mais je m’y suis remise et ça m’empêche de stagner dans ma chambre)

5 -  Aller dès que je peux à la cabine à livre de ma ville (j’adore ce principe: on dépose des livres dans une vieille cabine téléphonique et on peut en prendre si on veut. Des livres gratos, qui seraient contre ?)

5 things that are (or should be) on my to-do-list

1 - Finir mes romans surtout que c’est pas les idées qui me manquent.

2 - Regarder toutes les séries et films que m’a donné @ciniphile (j’arrête pas de repousser, c’est mal).

3 - Terminer toutes les démarches administratives pour ma rentrée de septembre (sauf que la fac est fermé jusqu’au 22 août...)

4 - Continuer de progresser sur ma liste de livre à lire.

5 - Continuer de lutter contre mon anxiété (ça s’améliore mais on peut faire mieux)

Je vais taguer: @laria124-of-kiwi-society, @ciniphile, @vpourvelociraptorvaillant, @emizuea et puis c’est tout (vous le faite si vous voulez, comme d’hab X)

[beameized]

On Pre-Colonial Filipina Rights (+ notes by me)

Female historians have researched about women’s rights before the Spanish came and brought Christianity coupled with a patriarchal society in the Philippines.

Encarnacion Alzona (the first Filipino woman to ever get a Ph.D, advocate of women’s suffrage in the Philippines and a national scientist) listed the following as rights women enjoyed before the west started their exploits:

“(1) to be treated as an equal by her husband and to share his honors;

(2) to retain her maiden name;

(3) to freely dispose of the property she had brought into the marriage;

(4) to be consulted or informed by her husband about his business affairs and contracts;

(5) to divorce her husband in case of non-support or maltreatment; and

(6) to assume the headship in the barangay*”

*Barangay is basically a village that has its own government lead by the Datu (monarch).

Sr. Mary John Mananzan, OSB (a historian, a benedictine nun and a current feminist icon) adds:

“(7) to have a baby or not, whether she is married or not; and

(8) to name her children.

Moreover, women had an unquestioned preferred role in religious ceremonies as babaylanes or catalones (priestesses)”

Sources: (x)//(x)//(x)//(x)

An analysis in relation to right now

Note: I’m afraid I cannot tackle every single right aforementioned as my knowledge of them is limited but I will try my best. I do encourage you guys speak up and add your inputs. I am not an expert in the field so please do inform me if I make any mistakes and I will gladly correct them.

First, let us go to (3). This right is quite similar to what we now call Conjugal Property of Gains (CPG), one of three marriage settlements in the Family Code. It drives on the same principle that whatever was owned by the spouses before the marriage is rightfully theirs and whatever is owned during the marriage becomes a common fund. CPG was used as default before the enactment of the Family Code in January 4, 1986 but afterwards, Absolute Community or Property(ACP) took charge. ACP is a regime that the spouses become co-owners of all property owned before and during the marriage. So while the law gives women the choice to employ either or the other forms of settlement, it is not a default at the moment.

Second, we move on to (5) where a wife is allowed to divorce her husband for maltreatment or refusal to support her. Currently in the Philippines, divorce is still not a thing (unfortunately) for whatever grounds. We end up with annulment instead, which is much more difficult than Divorce and more costly. While divorce acknowledges that a marriage was valid and had existed, annulment does not. In an annulment proceeding, you have to prove that the marriage was not valid from the very beginning and has not met the requisites as prescribed by the law. (The exclusive grounds for annulment can be found in Article 45 of the Family Code.) Another alternative is legal separation(LS). Unlike the two mentioned above, LS does not severe the marriage. It only gives the spouses the entitlement to live separately. In essence, while there are laws that do protect women from maltreatment, they fail do be as quick and efficient as divorce. There is generally more money, time and effort invested in such undertakings compared to that of a divorce.

Third, is (6). While Women are allowed positions in the government and the Philippines is a country known for Political Women Empowerment, there is still a lack of female government officials in key positions. Of the 17 Senates the Philippines has had, the lowest point was 1 female senator and the highest is 6. The mean average is 3.Currently, there are only 6 women in 24 seats. As for the house of representatives (HoR), the lowest is and the highest is 87 which happens to be the current one. (And yes! This includes Geraldine Roman, the first filipina transgender lawmaker~) Out of the 16 Presidents of the Philippines, only 2 were women. Out of the 14 Vice Presidents, only 2 were women, as well. However, according to the Philippine Statistics Authority, the ration between women and men as  “Officials of Government and Special interest Organizations, Corporate Executives, Managers, Managing Proprietors and Supervisors” in the year 2014 was 47.32% to 52.68%. So while, women are given a fair share of powerful positions, there still seems to be a lack of it in key government positions.

Lastly, we go into (7). It states that women can choose whether they have children on not. On a limited scope, it could simply mean just that but on a wider perspective it could have the context that women have autonomy over their bodies but unlike the olden days where abstinence or withdrawal were the only options, we have a variety of method. The current governing law, the reproductive health law (RH Law), favors the person of legal age undergoing legal medical procedures as against their spouse or parents. The concept is quite similar but because of the various methods currently available it is difficult to determine whether (7) is is in line or covers a larger scope, context-wise, in comparison to the current situation. The RH Law does not allow  abortion as people argue it is against the constitution that states that the life of the mother and the unborn child are both to be kept safe and it is heavily argued that life starts at fertilization. However, the interpretation limits the women’s autonomy over their own body. The prohibitions against a proven safe measure put wall over bodily autonomy in favor of religious beliefs (given that the Philippines is a predominantly Catholic country and you know how old men who will never will be pregnant for 9 fucking months ever just like to bitch about it and limit women’s rights.)

[motoe3yogesh-blog]

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[deliirious]

I won't say everyone... but let's say... Teagan and Zoe, Jason and Luna, and... Roman's dream wedding to Marcos

accepting x

Teagan and Zoe

where they get married

I can see them getting married in a little church, a small one that’s been around for a while. 

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

Early afternoon in the middle of spring.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

Something borrowed, something blue, bouquet toss, and probably they’d have kids be the ring bearer/flower child.

what their wedding cake looks like

Geometric, probably square instead of round, with darker accent colors.

….who smashes cake into whose face

Neither! They’re going to ruin their nice clothing!

who proposed to who first

I feel like they’d both be planning something, but I think Zoe would beat Teagan to it.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

They both walk down together. 

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

I feel like they’re both relatively simply people? So they’d both probably wear simple dresses, more likely white than anything out of the ordinary for tradition. 

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

Dark green and blue grey. It’s definitely neat and tidy, more traditional than pinterest-wedding-esque.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

Zoe: Lily of the valley and white carnations meaning returning happiness, trust, pure love, faithfulness.

Teagan: White heather and blue tulips meaning protection, respect, tranquility, and trust.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

Traditional

if anyone’s late to the wedding

Absolutely not

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Friends!

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

Something simple, like green A-line dresses.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

They both do! They tell little speeches about their favorite qualities in each other.

who catches the bouquet( s )

The plus one of a guest invited by Teagan and one of Zoe’s younger cousins.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

SUPER SWEET. ROT YOUR TEETH SWEET.

what sort of food they have at the reception

More like small little hors d’oeuvres, things that people can try rather than a whole meal

who cries first during the ceremony

Zoe is crying before she even gets there

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

Not too wild. I feel like they would have a shorter reception and they would laugh and have fun, but it would end so they could go home and enjoy each others’ company ;))))

what their rings are like

Once again, simple. Probably silver bands with two or three little stones on them, likely a birthstone and then a diamond on either side.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

Beakers filled with candy!

where they go for their honeymoon

A secluded cabin in the mountains.

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Some of the younger party guests have a bit too much fun with the confetti poppers and end up covering the two brides in glitter and bits of confetti.

who officiates the ceremony

Either a family friend or a local minister.

what song their first dance is to

Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

They walk down together

Luna and Jason

where they get married

In the forest around where the pack lives.

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

Early evening/dusk in the late summer or early fall.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

There are probably some traditions held by the pack that they would go along with, like a specific wedding/binding ceremony.

what their wedding cake looks like

I doubt they’d have one, if they did it would be cupcakes.

….who smashes cake into whose face

Jason. Sorry Luna.

who proposed to who first

Jason.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Jason waits, Luna walks.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Since they’re in the woods, likely Jason would wear a white shirt and nice pants, and a simple white dress would have been given to Luna. Probably a shorter dress that looks like a sundress.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

Their wedding would likely be totally with the outdoors, so using the flowers around them for decorations, they would have had an extremely neutral color scheme. 

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

Forget-me-nots, dandelions, and baby’s breath meaning true love, overcoming hardship, and innocence.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

They will have written bits of their own vows, promises to each other and then there would likely be some specific vows for them as mates. 

if anyone’s late to the wedding

So many people, although most are probably excited because mates are important in the pack.

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Various men and women from the pack.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

More likely whatever fancier clothes they have than anything specific.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

The alpha would say something as well as any elders, likely to give advice.

who catches the bouquet( s )

The healer.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

They probably wouldn’t have photos, but they’d sit around being adorable.

what sort of food they have at the reception

Whatever could be had on hand, rabbit, deer, vegetables and fruits. 

who cries first during the ceremony

Luna

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

I mean… they’re wolves. Let’s get real.

what their rings are like

He likely wouldn’t wear anything, but he would have gone out of his way to give her something pretty, a simple band with some engraving in it.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

More likely than not they’d just be little bundles of herbs.

where they go for their honeymoon

He’d take her to a secluded water fall deeper into the woods where he’d have set up something special for her earlier.

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Jason 100% tries to get way too into getting Luna to dance in crazy ways.

who officiates the ceremony

The alpha

what song their first dance is to

Something played by the musicians in the pack, likely nothing recognizable.

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

Whoever Luna picked out of the people in the pack that she trusted, possibly the healer.

Roman and Marcos

where they get married

In the royal chapel.

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

Early morning either in the spring or summer.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

They would follow literally every royal wedding tradition to possibly exist.

what their wedding cake looks like

Extremely fucking tall. In fact, it’s way too tall. Roman you can’t even see the goddamn cake topped if you’re standing right next to it this shit is insane. 

….who smashes cake into whose face

Roman would attempt to smash it into Marcos’ face.

who proposed to who first

Roman would do it out of impatience.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Marcos waits and Roman walks.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Traditional suits, black and white, the whole fucking shebang, with some gold accents, Roman wearing their crown and Marcos with one made for him.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

White, light purple and gold. If you don’t think this shit is extravagant and extra as hell, lemme tell you. They are so fucking extra. 

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

They probably wouldn’t carry a bouquet.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

Extremely fucking traditional. Probs v long, and Roman would no doubt try and sneak some extra shit in there even if it wasn’t appropriate. 

if anyone’s late to the wedding

Noooo. It would be the event of the year.

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

They probably wouldn’t have specific groomsmen.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

Everyone is wearing their literal absolute best.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

Roman’s parents say a few words as well as the head of the guard.

who catches the bouquet( s )

N/A

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

Extremely poised, completely artistic, royal looking so no one could doubt that Roman fully intended for this to be as like a full royal wedding as possible.

what sort of food they have at the reception

It would be a five course meal if we’re being honest.

who cries first during the ceremony

Roman’s mother.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

It’s full of stuffy old people who care too much about the rules. Although Roman might get a little handsy.

what their rings are like

Gold bands inlaid with diamons.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

Champagne would be given to all the guests, likely with each bottle being personalized in some way.

where they go for their honeymoon

Egypt

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Nothing super exciting aside from paparazzi trying to figure out how fucking insane the royal family’s gone trying to figure out how Roman managed to get a wedding with their head guard.

who officiates the ceremony

Royal official

what song their first dance is to

A traditional waltz

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

No one, Roman would walk down alone.

[luxmentis]

Consider this a teaser, as the images do not capture just how stunning these volumes are. We are pleased to have 3 of the 5 deluxe editions (one stayed in Ireland and the other at Yale). Each of the 5 is uniquely bound in a binding reflecting issues embodied in the 1729 text, modern Ireland, and the world as a whole. We are pleased to have and to offer Abortion, Homelessness, and Religion.

The Salvage Press has won numerous awards for this work, including: . If you have not seen it, the Irish Times article presents a great overview. A description of the standard and deluxe editions follows the images. I’ve also reposted some images of the standard edition and content at the very end. It is a remarkable work.

Homelessness

24ct gilt on endpapers

Religion

Endpaper Doublure

Abortion

Graphite Head

Binder Label

Swift, Jonathan; O’Kane, David [illus]; Carpenter, Andrew [intro]; Traynor, Jessica [poetry]. A Modest Proposal. Dublin, Ireland: The Salvage Press, 1729 [2017]. Limited Edition. Tight, bright, and unmarred. Halfbound, black leather spine and foredge, red leather spine label, gilt lettering, marbled paper boards, printed in red and black ink; matching drop-spine archival box with inlaid Irish porcelain. Imperial folio. 64pp. Illus. (b/w plates). Lettered limited edition, this being IJK. [N.B. there are 4 additional copies, i-iv, hors de commerse. Deluxe copies, 1-5, are each in a unique binding reflecting an issue confronting modern Ireland (homelessness, abortion rights, direct provision, religious persecution, and affordable housing) in “hand dyed alum tawed goatskin with reverse offset printed inlays and red calfskin borders, 22c gold hand lettered title, red handmade paper doublures with blind tooling, distressed silver endpapers with 23.5c gold leaf highlights, graphite top edge, red calfskin headbands” by Kate Holland and including an additional portfolio containing a full suite of the lithographs and a full suite of the poems. Fine in Fine Archival Box. Hardcover.

“This publishing of A Modest Proposal was produced to mark the 350th anniversary of the birth of Jonathan Swift in 1667. First printed in 1729 by Sarah Harding ‘on the Blind Key‘, Dublin.

Designed, typeset and letterpress printed by Jamie Murphy with much grateful assistance from Niamh McNally, Sarah O’Neill and Phelim McGovern. The type employed is 22 point Monotype Caslon, an interesting cut quite close in character to William Caslon’s ‘Roman and Italick’ types of the late 1720s. The type was originally cast into founts by Neil Winter at The Whittington Press from matrices acquired from the Oxford University Press. The book was printed on a Western style Double Crown proofing press at Distillers Press, NCAD, Dublin. Andrew Carpenter has introduced the edition. Jessica Traynor has supplied nine new poems in response to the original text. David O’Kane has scratched the ten illustrations which have been editioned from lithographic stones by Michael Timmins at his workshop in Stoneybatter. The book has been printed on 250gsm mouldmade paper from the Zerkall Mill, Hürtgenwald, Germany, supplied by John Purcell, London. Based in Wiltshire, UK, Jemma Lewis has designed and produced the marbled papers based on marble patterns found at St. Patrick’s Cathederal where Swift was once Dean. Eleanor Swan has produced the porcelain inserts for the standard copies at her studio on the grounds of Russborough House, Co. Wicklow.” (Publisher statement)

Dinner closeup

Cabinet closeup

Box with inlay

Standard Binding

X-Ray

Poetry

Hanging

Irish porcelain inlay

Layout

Newborn

Cabinet layout

Dinner table

Titlepage

Cabinet of Curiosities

Deluxe Editions of A Modest Proposal have arrived Consider this a teaser, as the images do not capture just how stunning these volumes are. We are pleased to have 3 of the 5 deluxe editions (one stayed in Ireland and the other at Yale).