#me watching rich black come out of my printer: holy

[egophiliac]

hey so I know you said art for personal use is okay but i was curious as to if you would be okay with me printing out your art 😭 i need things on my walls in my dorm and ive been obsessed with your unique magic series since you posted them lol. totally ok if not!

oh yeah, that's absolutely fine, thank you! ❤️❤️❤️ and if you're after the UM posters specifically, I put up higher-res versions of them here so they should print pretty nicely! :>

[crybabyddl]

Black Coffee

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Chapter One

Warning: swearing, meet-cute, awkwardness, modern au, coffee shop au

Author's Note: Hi. it's been a while. I started typing this up on AO3, then accidentally closed the tab and lost it all. But I got so attached that I decided it was worth rewriting. The POV will change between the reader and Eddie. ALSO!! Eddie has parents in this fic. Okay, enjoy!

Next Chapter

----

I had thirty minutes until my lunch break. I decided to do the daily crossword on my phone to pass the time. Winter was the town's "off season", so I basically got paid to just be on my phone for eight hours, making a coffee here and there for the regulars and occasional tourists that managed to stumble upon our secluded café. If there was one thing I could depend on, it's that no matter how slow business was, there'd always be at least one person in need of caffeine, and that was enough for me.

I was on a roll, solving a bunch of the crossword clues when I saw a figure entering the shop out of the corner of my eye. I put my phone in my back pocket before picking up the stylus I used to tap on the register's screen.

I look up to see a tall man wearing black jeans, a leather jacket, and combat boots. His fingers are adorned with several rings and his pinkies are coated in black polish. This guy looks like he came straight off my "dream man" pinterest board. He's got long, curly brown hair that I was honestly jealous of.

"Hello!" I said in the sing-songy voice I use to greet customers. I felt my face heating up, and it only grew warmer once he looked up at me.

Holy shit, he's gorgeous.

"Hey, how's it going?" the man replies with a small, closed-mouth smile.

"Not too bad, what about you?"

"I'll be better once I get some coffee in my system, but other than that I'm doing alright."

"Just a regular coffee?"

"Yup. Small, black coffee."

"You got it," I reply, punching in the order on the register before grabbing a twelve ounce cup and fitting it into a sleeve. I turn to fill the cup and can't help but mouth an "oh my god" to myself at how beautiful this man is.

After filling the cup, I take a lid and press it firmly onto the cup to ensure it's secure. "Here you are." I say as I place the coffee on the counter in front of him.

"Thanks," he pulls out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Comes out to three dollars."

"Is that how much a black coffee is these days?" His brows furrow, but the look and lopsided grin he gives me tell me his words are lighthearted.

"Don't look at me, I don't make the prices!" I put my hands up in fake surrender. "Cash or card?"

"Card."

"Okay,"

I tap the icon on the screen that authorizes cashless payment and the man taps his card on the chip reader. I grab a pen, clicking it open before taking the receipt from the printer. "I just need you to sign this for me please."

"Alrighty," he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, and I caught a glimpse of his stomach as his shirt rose to reveal his happy trail. Was it weird to be attracted to someone's abdomen?

I place the pen and receipt in front of him, watching his hair cover the sides of his face as he leans over to scrawl his signature. Once he finishes, he unclicks the pen, handing it and the receipt back to me. "There you go, thanks again."

"Thank you, have a good one!"

"You too!" he called over his shoulder.

I feel my own shoulders relax once he's out of sight. I exhale a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I glance down at the receipt and notice the signature at the bottom. His name is Eddie. I mentally sighed. A cute name for a handsome stranger I'd never see again. My eyes flicked over to the tip. Damn, three dollars. That could mean one or more of the following:

He also works in food service and therefore understands the struggle and knows how to tip well.

He's rich and always tips the amount of the check

He thought I was cute too and tipped me nicely as a form of flattery.

He's just a normal person who gave a nice tip for no specific reason.

I knew option four was the most likely, but I allowed myself to enjoy the idea of option 3.

During my lunch break, I couldn't help but think about Eddie. I knew it was wrong to romanticize a single interaction with a stranger, but I figured it was okay since I'd never see him again. What wasn't okay was me picturing him shirtless. Hey, it wasn't often that a cute guy my age came into the café, since most people went to a different coffee shop that'd been around longer. Plus, I've been single for a few months and my sex drive has been practically nonexistent. I'd be foolish to not take advantage of the eye candy.

----

I wasn't expecting to pay three dollars for a small black coffee, but after taking a sip, I decided it was worth it. To be fair, anything was better than the watered down crap I got yesterday after returning the U-Haul, but this shit was good. I wasn't sure how I'd like my new hometown, but things were off to a good start. I found a place to get coffee, and a cute barista to make it for me.

The next thing on my list for the day was unpacking my stuff in my new apartment. I took another swig of my coffee at that thought, knowing it would be a long road to settling in. After unloading just the essentials in the kitchen and the bathroom, I decided to get serious. If I ever wanted to fully move in, I needed to pick one room to completely unpack. I figured I'd start with the most important room, the bedroom.

Starting with the bedroom turned out to be a mistake, as I ended up crashing as soon as I placed the mattress on the bedframe I'd just spent an hour putting together. To my credit, I drove for six hours straight yesterday and had to toss and turn on my parents' couch before giving up and having a beer while watching youtube shorts until two in the morning.

I reached for my phone and looked at the time. 6pm. I felt a pang of hunger hit my stomach. There was no way in hell I was going to cook right now. I decided to test my luck and see what my options were for takeout. This town wasn't big enough to have DoorDash or Uber Eats, so I'd have to find a restaurant, order takeout, and pick it up. I didn't mind driving honestly, I just needed something other than fast food tonight.

I ended up ordering from this Thai place around the corner, so I decided to get some fresh air and walk to the restaurant. I was able to get my food nice and easy, and thankfully had the keys to my apartment in my pocket so I had no problem getting back and enjoying my chicken massaman curry on the couch as I watched Breaking Bad for the millionth time.

----

[lubdubsworld]

Lightning and Thunder (Seokjin/OC)

Chapter 3

I was stuck dumb by how large and sprawling Seokjin’s apartment was, the entire expanse of the huge penthouse done in muted black and white. Some odd paintings here and there added a splash of color but most of it was geometric patterns, nothing too wild. 

The livingspace was wide and open , friendly and matching the personality of its owner. i noticed the comfortable slightly curved couch with the white upholstery , the small coffee table in front of it carrying a crystal vase with two long stemmed irises. 

The opposite wall was fully glass, showing a breathtaking view of the Seoul skyline and the carpet was fluffy white , expensive looking and feathery . 

 But what i really couldn’t stop staring at was what appeared to be a life size portrait of Kim Seokjin in a white tuxedo, fitted right in the centre of the largest wall in the livingspace right next to the door which led to the master bedroom.. 

“This....is. “ I stopped, just staring at it and trying to formulate words.

“Magnificent? I know... The suit is Brioni and the photographer was...” Seokjin ranted off some unpronounceable name and went on to decribe the suit in more boring detail and i cut him short when it became too much. 

“Are you a doctor or a model?” I said , staring slack jawed as he  reached for the first of the seven boxes ( which the concierge had kindly dropped off in the hallway )  into what looked like the spare bedroom . I watched him place it at the door and then return back for the next one.

“I model for my father’s Company, when he needs someone at short notice.” He shrugged and i gaped because I had been joking. 

“Okay... Dr. Kim.”

“Call me oppa.” He said casually and I spluttered. 

“I.. no.. that’s ...i can’t...”

“what? i’m not that old...” 

“But still.... “

“Fine. As you wish. Come see your room.” He ushered me in and I stared in awe. 

“Like it?” He said sounding amused as i took in the muted grey and blue colors, the robin egg blue bed with the aquamarine sheets. The curtains were a light teal grey , pulled aside to show huge bay windows that opened into a rooftop garden. I peered out into the roof in awe, seeing the small stone jacuzzi set into the corner of the wall. 

“this is amazing.” 

“Anyway, I’ve put in a study table , a night lamp and a case full of stationeries in your room. There’s also a worktable with a computer, Wi-fi connection, a printer and a scanner. I’ve kept the paper for the machine in the shelf underneath it. I don’t mind you listening to music as long as it’s at a reasonable volume....” 

He pointed out each item as he talked and i felt myself getting steadily agitated. 

I stared at him in helpless consternation.

“Dr. Kim, i can’t stay here!!” I whispere yelled. 

He blinked. 

“What? Why? is it the color...i can call an interior decorator if you-”

“What-No! it’s not the color .. it’s ...the colors perfect...i...”

“Are you scared of heights? The curtains can close, you know...” He grabbed a remote and pressed some button on it and i watched slack jawed as the curtains automatically pulled shut. 

Holy cow. 

“ i can’t just stay here for free.. it’s ...it’s too much...” i whispered raggedly. 

He blinked, red lips parting in surprise.

“Don’t be ridiculous... It’s not too much! You’re carrying my nephew or niece in there.” He pointed at my belly and I instinctively pressed my palm there. 

“even so... This seems too much.. “ i looked around. 

“You can help me around the house with some of the chores. If you feel bad about it.” He said casually , grabbing two of the boxes and placing them on the bed. “ I’ve emtied out the closet. Do you want to put your clothes in now? Or should i make dinner first?” He asked casually.

I grabbed the nearest box and opened it , seeing the figurines from earlier wrapped neatly in thick wads of newspaper to keep them from breaking. Grinning i unwrapped the package. 

“You cook?” i said surprised. 

“Not normally. i’m usually too busy but I took today off anyway and I’m not sure you should be eating take out. Home cooked meals are always healthy. Which reminds me.... There’s a recipe book in the kitchen counter. it’s mine and the stuff there is really simple. I’d prefer if you make your own meals instead of eating out.” He said firmly.

I pouted.

“I don’t cook well...i’ll just eat burgers and coke and fries... ”I said , mostly teasing. 

i knew my way around the kitchen. 

“Oh... well, i’ll cook whenever I come home and leave it in the fridge. All you’ll have to do is heat it up and-”

“i was joking!! Could you please stop being so nice, i feel like I’m swindling you!! ” I cried out , aggrieved. 

Seokjin chuckled amiably. 

“Your swindling isn’t going to affect me , Yeri ya. I’m rich enough to afford spoiling you.” He winked . 

 winked. 

Now here’s the thing. i knew that there was nothing even remotely suggestive about his wink. But just the visuals.....

With his messy blond hair and creamy white complexion and those long lashes, and those plump red lips.... 

Momentarily losing all control of my brain cells, I blurted out.

“You’re so pretty , I feel like I’ve failed as a girl....” 

He stared at me for a second and I expected him to burst out laughing at my ridiculousness.

Instead he went a deep, plum red. 

i stared as the flush spead up his neck, over his killer cheekbones and finally his ears looked like chillies as he ducked his head in embarassment.

“I... You... I’ll get started on dinner.” He rushed out before i could fully process that I’d somehow managed to make Dr. Kim Seokjin blush. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There’s some stuff i’d like to talk about.” Seokjin said , later as i sat perched on the counter, carefully cutting up spring onions and dropping them in a bowl. I hummed in acknowledgement , glancing at him. He was wearing a white t shirt, tight around his mammoth shoulders and hanging loose around his incredibly tiny waist. 

The apron around said waist was a pale baby blue, looking pretty against the gray stonewashed jeans on his long legs. He grabbed the pepper crusher and twisted it vigorously, seasoning the chicken in the bowl and reached for the salt immediately after. 

“Shoot.” I prompted  and then grabbed a carrot from a nearby tray and munched on it. Seokjin gave me a judgemental stare. 

“ I remember seeing you at the sushi place near the campus about three times last week. I would rather you don’t eat sushi in seedy places.” He said calmy.

I stopped munching.

“What?”

“Raw fish isn’t healthy for you. There’s a risk of infection and I also want your buddy’s number.”

“My who?”

“Buddy.. What do you kids call it... BFF? Your best friend? The girl you stay attached to.”

i swallowed the carrot and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Uh... i don’t have one?” I said softly. 

He stopped seasoning the chicken and looked at me.

“Excuse me?”

“i mean...i have friends..” acquaintances really. “ but uh.. no one close.”

“So who should I contact if you don’t pick up the phone?” 

I frowned. 

“You’re being weird now.” i pointed out. 

Seokjin sighed.

“i’m being responsible. Like i said, I won’t be here often. kit’s entirely possible we won’t be seeing each other for days. i would like to be able to check up on you in between.” He said primly. 

 Is this because of me wishing to see my mom, last night , God? Because this is freaking me out. 

 “ I’ll pick my phone up. for sure. I promise.” i said quickly. 

Seokjin hummed.

“Fine. And like i said , no coffee okay?” 

I groaned. 

“Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ This is really delicious. “ i said brightly, shoving another spoonful of rice and a bit of chicken into my mouth. The sauce was rich and seasoned well, not too oily or salty. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. it’s important to eat well during your pregnancy.” he said thoughtfully. 

I continued eating, pausing to smile brightly. 

" Thank you for the food , Dr. Kim I’ve been feeling really hungry lately.” I admitted. “ Must be the baby feeling hungry then....” 

“Yes... but interestingly, you don’t actually need to eat any extra calories during the first trimester.” He said softly. 

I froze mid bite.

“What?”

“You don’t have to eat extra .... Not for another month at least.” 

Oh. 

I glanced down at the third helping of rice in my bowl. oh whatever. it had been so long since I’d had any home cooked meal. 

And then slowly his words began to ring on a loop in my head. i frowned. 

“Wait.. are you telling me i should stop eating? “ i glanced up. 

Seokjin looked taken aback as he frowned. 

“What...no , i-”

“Because i’m not fat! i went to the doctor last week and he said i was a healthy weight!” 

“Yeri.. i’m not insinuating that-” 

“Or are you calling me a freeloader... Am i eating too much for you to afford??!”

“Oh, for the love of God....” 

“Because you were the one who said that you could afford to spoil me!!” 

Seokjin sighed while i felt hot tears stinging the back of my eyes. 

Oh, God what was wrong with me!!

 My mood swings had been a bit bad but apparently, today my hormones were working overtime. 

“Sweetheart... I’m just worried that...”

“Forget it.” i stood up, horrified, partly because of what had happened and partly because I was close to tears. i had to get away from him before i embarassed myself completely. 

i quickly ran into the guest bedroom, not even sure why i was crying. 

Seokjin’s voice came from outside the door.

“Yeri...i was just worried that you’d get sick.... “ He called out imploringly and I felt worse.

“I...i know..I’m so sorry, Dr. Kim... i just... i’ve been feeling a little ... emotional these few weeks. ” I called back, still burrowed in the sheets. He was a doctor wasn’t he?? He would understand my suffering. 

“Should i come in?” He said worriedly. 

“No.. No.. i’ll be fine. I’m sorry for yelling at you. Thank you for the food. “ I said miserably.

“Okay. My shift starts in three hours. i won’t be here when you wake up. My chauffeur will pick you up when you leave. Just tell my name at the reception and he’ll come around, okay?”

I felt the heavy feeling of guilt settle deeper inside my gut. 

“Okay , Dr. Kim.” 

there was a few seconds of silence. I thought he’d left when his voice came through the door again. 

“Good night, sweetheart. i’m going to be right here if you need  me, okay? ”

I promptly burst into tears. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And then at 3.00 Am as i emptied the contents of my stomach into the porcelain bowl of Seokjin’s toilet, I understood exactly why he’d wanted me to cut down on the food. 

It didn’t help that when I dragged myself to the kitchen to get some water from the cooler i found a flask on the spotless kitchen counter with a small note underneath.

 Yeri, 

This is ginger tea. Something tells me that dinner is going to pay you a visit again tonight. Drink this and drink plenty of water. Should help settle your stomach. Sleep on your side, 

Dr. Kim

Seokjin Oppa

Oh, God. Where was death when you really needed it? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seokjin POV

“So, I made her some ginger tea and left a note.” Seokjin finished , carefully grading the papers from his third year class. 

“Wow. You must really care for this girl...” 

“Hmm.... oh well, someone should. She’s pretty clueless and seems to have no friends. I tried asking around and she’s mostly a bit of a recluse. Not a lot of friends . And her family is shitty too. “

“wow, they made you swear? Must be real bad.”

“Dad’s banker, Mum’s a teacher. They’re supposed to be paying for her rent at least, she has a full scholarship. But they cut her off just because she’s pregnant.”

“Because of your brother.” Namjoon said firmly, his voice hard. 

“Taehyung’s a kid, Namjoon... he didn’t know...”

“Bullshit hyung. We both know he’s a menace. He didn’t ‘ accidentally ‘ sleep with her. He made a bet with those useless friends of his and got her drunk. I don’t think it’s anything less than rape.” 

Seokjin felt annoyance and guilt well up inside him in equal measure.

“Stop exaggerating! He didn’t get her drunk... he... he just got carried away...” Seokjin said lamely. His palms were getting sweaty. 

“And now you’re covering up for him as usual. You should really let him face the consequences of his reckless actions , hyung everytime you clean up his mess, it just makes him do worse things!” 

“what am I supposed to do, Namjoon-ah?! Let the girl know the truth?! She could make it public. It would wreck Taehyung’s life. He’s engaged already!” He said miserably. 

“And what about, Yeri hyung? She’s alone, no money, no family.... doesn’t she deserve compensation? Your brother is supposed to be supporting his child at the least!!” Namjoon said angrily. 

Seokjin couldn’t even defend his brother now. Taehyung was always reckless but this time he had outdone himself. 

Seokjin did hate his brother sometimes but he was still his brother. 

Yeri was a good girl and he felt sorry for her and  this time, he knew he was doing something wrong as well. . 

But he couldn’t help it. 

Family was still family. And Taehyung would always have to come first. 

But more than that, there was something far more important at stake. He thought about Taehyung’s fiancee and the 300 billion won investment that her father would be bringing in for the Hospital. 

He could have the pediatric oncology clinic that he had been dying to set up from his freshman year in medical school. Hundreds of thousands of children would be benefitted. 

But all that would go down the drain if Taehyung’s fiancee found out that the boy had made another girl pregnant. He couldn’t risk that happening. 

the greater good, he thought miserably. 

Besides, it wasn’t like he was abandoning Yeri. 

“I’m supporting her, aren’t I?” He said furiously. “ i’m going to take care of her and the baby. “ He said firmly. And he meant it. He would treat her like a queen. He would give her the best that money could buy. Anything and everything she wanted. 

Namjoon shook his head. 

“That’s not the point hyung. She deserves to know the truth. The choice should be hers.” 

Seokjin frowned and stood up. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He said firmly , before walking out. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE : 

Kudos to anyone who guessed that my story would never be angst-free. 

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Required Reading

One of the final images of Saturn and its main rings captured by the Cassini space probe before it was commanded to fly into Saturn’s upper atmosphere and burn up in order to prevent any risk of contaminating Saturn’s moons. You can find more impressive images here. (Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/Space Science Institute)

One medieval historian explains what to do when Nazis are obsessed with your field of research. David M. Perry writes:

White supremacists explicitly celebrate Europe in the Middle Ages because they imagine that it was a pure, white, Christian place organized wholesomely around military resistance to outside, non-white, non-Christian, forces. Marchers in Charlottesville held symbols of the medieval Holy Roman Empire and of the Knights Templar. The Portland murderer praised “Vinland,” a medieval Viking name for North America, in order to assert historical white ownership over the landmass: Vinlander racists like to claim that whites are “indigenous” here on the basis of medieval Scandinavian lore. Similarly, European anti-Islamic bigots dress up in medieval costumes and share the “crying Templar” meme. Someone sprayed “saracen go home” and “deus vult”—a Latin phrase meaning “God wills it” and associated with the history of the Crusades—on a Scottish mosque. The paramilitary “Knights Templar International” is preparing for a race war. In tweets since locked behind private accounts, University of Reno students reacted to seeing classmate Peter Cvjetanovic at the Virginia tiki-torch rally, saying they knew him as the guy who said racist things in their medieval history classes.

Brigido Lara is an artist responsible for many Pre-Columbian fakes that continue to fool museums around the world. Kristen Fawcett of Mental Floss writes:

It’s not entirely clear whether Lara began making these figurines for fun or profit. But according to the man himself, traveling dry-goods merchants had noticed his talents before he had even reached his teens. They accepted his “interpretations,” as he called his early work, in lieu of cash—then sold them on the black market. Looters also came to Lara, asking him to fix and restore stolen works. Eventually, the artist wound up working in a Mexico City atelier that produced forgeries.

No detail was too tiny for Lara. He visited archaeological sites to study just-dug-up artifacts, and harvested clay from the surrounding region to sculpt exact likenesses. He later told Connoisseur magazine that for true authenticity, he even crafted his own primitive tools and stockpiled 32 grades of cinnabar—a reddish form of mercury used by the Olmec, an ancient Mesoamerican civilization that existed between 1200 BCE and 400 BCE—for precise pigmentation. He finished his works with a ancient-looking patina made from cement, lime, hot sugar water, urine, and other ingredients, and coated the final products with a seal made from dirt and glue.

Hank Willis Thomas’s new public art work in Philadelphia is getting a lot of attention, including on our Instagram account, but did you know the source image? Introducing the history of the black fist afro comb:

This iconic comb represents the ethos of the civil rights movement, with the power of the clenched fist and the peace sign in the centre. For subsequent generations the comb has a range of meanings. In preparation for the 2013 exhibition ‘Origins of the Afro Comb’ at the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, whenever I met someone who had a black fist comb I asked what it meant to him or her. Answers have ranged from: ‘Black Power’; ‘Black pride’; ‘Nelson Mandela’s release’;‘ it’s just a nice shape’; and ‘unity’. For younger generations the combs also seem to take on a sense of the retro or ‘old skool’. It is perhaps the comb’s multiple associations that have ensured its success across generational divides and time. Whereas some of the young people I spoke to were not aware of the details of the American Black Power movement, their own associations with the design were nonetheless linked to ‘Black’ culture and identity.

RELATED: A Signe Wilkinson editorial comic.

This is your brain on art:

If you think about it, having a great time at the theater defies logic in many ways. We’re surrounded by strangers, bombarded with unusual images and often faced with a wordless language of symbols. Yet, on a good night, we generally laugh more, cry more and enjoy ourselves more at a live performance than when we’re watching TV at home. We may even lose ourselves and feel connected to something larger. How does this happen?

… Social connection is one of the strengths of our species — it’s how we learn from others by imitation. We’re keenly attuned to the emotions and actions of people around us, because our brains are designed for this.

If, for example, you’ve ever gone to an experimental performance-art piece where there’s hardly anyone in the audience but you, and you’ve felt a little exposed and awkward, this is why. We crave social connection. And the cues we get from those around us help our brains make sense of our surroundings. This starts from the moment we walk into a crowd.

There’s a board game that takes 1,500 hours to complete (kill me):

It’ll take you about 1,500 hours (or 62 days) to complete a full play of The Campaign For North Africa. The game itself covers the famous WWII operations in Libya and Egypt between 1940 and 1943. Along with the opaque rulebook, the box includes 1,600 cardboard chits, a few dozen charts tabulating damage, morale, and mechanical failure, and a swaddling 10-foot long map that brings the Sahara to your kitchen table. You’ll need to recruit 10 total players, (five Allied, five Axis,) who will each lord over a specialized division. The Front-line and Air Commanders will issue orders to the troops in battle, the Rear and Logistics Commanders will ferry supplies to the combat areas, and lastly, a Commander-in-Chief will be responsible for all macro strategic decisions over the course of the conflict. If you and your group meets for three hours at a time, twice a month, you’d wrap up the campaign in about 20 years.

The urge to take photos of tragedies fascinates me, so this man’s explanation for the reasons why Omega Mwaikambo took photos of the Grenfell fire victims in London is quite a read. He tells the BBC:

It was about 05:00, as he returned home to his flat, that Mwaikambo spotted the body. A corpse, wrapped in plastic, apparently dumped in the enclosed courtyard area outside his flat’s front door. “God knows what I was thinking in my head,” he explained. “But I was holding my iPad. The body was not wrapped tightly; it was loosely wrapped. “Inside I was just saying to myself ‘does anybody know this person?’ I just took the picture.” Mwaikambo started off by taking photos of the body bag from a distance. Then he went further. He lifted the plastic sheeting around the corpse’s face, and took more. “[I was] not even knowing what I was doing.” he said.

Font detectives exist, according to Glenn Fleishman at Wired:

Detecting fraud via fonts isn’t as sexy as sleuthing art forgery; it often involves tedious measurements with digital calipers, examinations under loupes and microscopes, charts that track the slight differences between two versions of the Times Roman face, or evidence that a particular form of office printer didn’t exist at the document’s dated execution.

Even so, such measurements can be worth millions—and can even be lucrative, for the handful of experts (maybe a dozen) who have hung out a font-detective shingle. Phinney had an expert declaration filed last month as part of a lawsuit against Justin Timberlake, will.i.am, their labels, and others. The suit is about a sample used in Timberlake’s 2006 “Damn Girl,” but the case might hinge on the size and clarity of the type on Timberlake’s CD cover. (How could that be? Read on.)

How filmmakers have finally been able to light actors with darker skin and get it right. Nadia Latif writes:

Lighting should be used to sculpt, rather than bleach, an actor’s skin, a technique championed by Charles Mills in Boyz N the Hood in his night-time exterior shots. Although many directors lament the shift from shooting on film to digital cameras, one of the advantages is that one can digitally recreate the effects of shooting on extinct Fuji, Kodak or Agfa film stocks, which were particularly good for capturing the richness of black skin. The colour palette is key, whether in the production design or the post-production grade – drawing a rainbow of colours from the actors’ skin itself to create something more vibrant and less concerned with being “real”. After all, the original title for Moonlight was In Moonlight Black Boys Appear Blue.

The last of Calabria’s ancient Greek community:

There are many theories or schools of thought regarding the origin of the Greko community in Calabria. Are they descendants of the Ancient Greeks who colonized Southern Italy? Are they remnants of the Byzantine presence in Southern Italy? Did their ancestors come in the 15th-16th Centuries from the Greek communities in the Aegean fleeing Ottoman invasion? The best answers to all of those questions are yes, yes, and yes. This means that history has shown a continuous Greek presence in Calabria since antiquity. Even though different empires, governments, and invasions occurred in the region, the Greek language and identity seemed to have never ceased. Once the glorious days of Magna Graecia were over, there is evidence that shows that Greek continued to be spoken in Southern Italy during the Roman Empire. Once the Roman Empire split into East (Byzantine) and West, Calabria saw Byzantine rule begin in the 5th Century. This lasted well into the 11th Century and reinforced the Greek language and identity in the region as well as an affinity to Eastern Christianity.

Today, there is more evidence of a Byzantine legacy rather than an Ancient Greek or Modern Greek footprint.

The small European nation of Luxembourg has shown how far a tiny country can go by serving the needs of global capitalism, now they are helping private companies colonize outer space. Atossa Araxia Abrahamian reports:

Space is becoming a testing ground for these thorny ethical and legal questions, and Luxembourg – a tiny country that has sustained itself off of regulatory intricacies and tax loopholes for decades – is positioning itself to help find the answers. While major nations such as China and India plough increasing sums of money into developing space programmes to rival Nasa, Luxembourg is making a different bet: that it can become home to a multinational cast of entrepreneurs who want to go into space not for just the sake of scientific progress or to strengthen their nation’s geopolitical hand, but also to make money.

It already has a keen clientele. Space entrepreneurs speak of a new “gold rush” and compare their mission to that of the frontiersmen, or the early industrialists. While planet Earth’s limited stock of natural resources is rapidly being depleted, asteroid miners see a solution in the vast quantities of untapped water, minerals and metals in outer space. And the fledgling “NewSpace” industry – an umbrella term for commercial spaceflight, asteroid mining and other private ventures – has found eager supporters in the investor class. In April, Goldman Sachs sent a note to clients claiming that asteroid mining “could be more realistic than perceived”, thanks to the falling cost of launching rockets and the vast quantities of platinum sitting on space rocks, just waiting to be exploited.

A pretty impressive drone video:

Goldenboye:

G O L D E N B O Y E doin a heckin perfection from rarepuppers

And a new Saudi textbook strangely features an image of Yoda (from Star Wars) with King Faisal (tweet):

https://twitter.com/SilentRuins/status/910757978306961409/photo/1

Required Reading is published every Sunday morning ET, and is comprised of a short list of art-related links to long-form articles, videos, blog posts, or photo essays worth a second look.

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