#Convergent Journalism

[persephonethewanderer]

you’re telling me that they are going to do a double feature of love is the devil + queer (aka the most meaningful movies ever TO ME) with daniel present and then do a q&a and it’s… in fucking santa monica of all places :)))))) ???? i’m gonna go kms anybody needs anything?

[chronobreak]

ITS TIME ITS TIME ITS TIME ITS TIME

[whats-in-a-sentence]

So Guth discovered that a supercooled Higgs field does have an important effect on the expansion of space: like a cosmological constant, it exerts a repulsive gravitational force that drives space to expand.⁹

9. Guth and Tye recognized that a supercooled Higgs field would act like a cosmological constant, a realization that had been made earlier by Martinus Veltman and others. In fact, Tye has told me that were it not for a page limit in Physical Review Letters, the journal to he and Guth submitted their paper, they would not have struck a final sentence noting that their model would entail a period of exponential expansion. But Tye also notes that it was Guth's achievement to realize the important cosmological implications of a period of exponential expansion (to be discussed later in this and the next chapter), and thereby put inflation front and center on cosmologists' maps.

In the sometimes convoluted history of discovery, the Russian physicist Alexei Starobinsky had, a few years earlier, found a different means of generating what we now call inflationary expansion, work described in a paper that was not widely known among western scientists. However, Starobinsky did not emphasize that a period of such rapid expansion would solve key cosmological problems (such as the horizon and flatness problems, to be discussed shortly), which explains, in part, why his work did not generate the enthusiastic response that Guth's received. In 1981, the Japanese physicist Katsuhiko Sato also developed a version of inflationary cosmology, and even earlier (in 1978), Russian physicists Gennady Chibisov and Andrei Linde hit upon the idea of inflation, but they realized that – when studied in detail – it suffered from a key problem (discussed in note 11) and hence did not publish their work.

The mathematically inclined reader should note that it is not difficult to see how accelerated expansion arises. One of Einstein's equations is d²a/dt²/a = -4π/3(ρ + 3p) where a, ρ, and p are the scale factor of the universe (its "size"), the energy density, and the pressure density, respectively. Notice that if the righthand side is this equation is positive, the scale factor will grow at an increasing rate: the universe's rate of growth will accelerate with time. For a Higgs field perched on a plateau, its pressure density turns out to equal the negative of its energy density (the same is true for a cosmological constant), and so the righthand side is indeed positive.

"The Fabric of the Cosmos" - Brian Greene

[commeantennastoheaven]

Domingo, 21/07/2024, 07h45min Ouvindo: Converge & Chelsea Wolfe - "Bloodmoon: I"

Escrever hoje é um ato mais rotineiro do que necessário. Os pensamentos estão silenciosos, pelo menos neste momento. É estranho não ter que pensar e analisar a bagunça mental. Acredito que a música é o meu refúgio seguro e aconchegante. Na música eu me encontro, encontro Deus e encontro descanso. Deus sempre fala comigo através da música, é onde eu mais O encontro. Tem uma frase que eu gosto muito: “Que importa se Deus nos fala através dos espinhos ou das rosas perfumadas?” - Francisco de Sales

Ele fala comigo através da música; e de muitas outras maneiras também. Eu só preciso estar disposto a ouvir.

[patrickwmarsh]

Update 7/15/24

Been a little bit since I’ve been here. I know I typically start these updates like that, but at least I’m consistent about some things in my life. The last two weeks have been incredibly busy for me, between working fulltime and my writing projects. It has been nuts. This weekend was the first respite for me where I slept in and sort of did nothing for a prolonged period of time.  I did the 48…

[shamballalin]

Points to Ponder ~ Contributed by Author and Award-Winning Columnist John T. Hourihan, Jr.

This picture is of John, when we were living in Hawaii. The following is written by John T. Hourihan, Jr.: So, here’s what I have found. Science says energy always was, always will be, since it cannot be created nor destroyed. Religion says God always was always will be. Since there is currently thought, there had to have been a first thought. Energy became aware of itself as in the “I am…

[meganval]

Justice sociale : la Convergence Globale des Luttes pour la Terre et l’Eau en Afrique de l’Ouest défend les communautés de Djêgbadji

Le vendredi 13 octobre 2023, la commune de Ouidah a été marqué par un événement dans le cadre de la 4e édition de la Caravane Ouest Africaine, avec la participation de la Convergence Globale des Luttes pour la Terre et l’Eau en Afrique de l’Ouest (CGLTE-AO). Cette initiative a pris place dans le village de Kouvènanfidé, situé sur la côte de l’arrondissement de Djêgbadji à Ouidah. Massa…

[the-bagelbitch]

I’m at the ‘obsessively researching regular scar tissue formation’ stage of recovery

[alphynix]

While birds are one of the few animal groups to have achieved powered flight, they're also very prone to losing their aerial abilities. Many times over their evolutionary history, multiple different bird lineages have convergently become secondarily flightless – and Patagopteryx deferrariisi was one of the earliest known examples of this.

Living during the Late Cretaceous, about 86-84 million years ago, in what is now the northern part of Argentine Patagonia in South America, Patagopteryx was roughly the size of a modern chicken at around 50cm long.

When it was first discovered it was classified as a ratite, but soon after it was recognized as actually being a much earlier type of bird, an early ornithuromorph only distantly related to any modern groups.

It had small wings, little-to-no keel, and no wishbone, indicating it lacked the large powerful musculature required for flight. Its legs were quite long, with large feet with all four toes facing forward – proportions that suggest it was built more for walking than for high-speed running.

Growth rings in its bones also show that it had a much slower growth rate than modern birds, taking several years to reach adult size.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

Agnolin, Federico L., and Agustín G. Martinelli. "Fossil birds from the Late Cretaceous Los Alamitos Formation, Río Negro Province, Argentina." Journal of South American Earth Sciences 27.1 (2009): 42-49. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jsames.2008.09.003

Chiappe, Luis M. "The first 85 million years of avian evolution." Nature 378.6555 (1995): 349-355. https://doi.org/10.1038/378349a0

Chiappe, L. M. "Osteology of the flightless Patagopteryx deferrariisi from the Late Cretaceous of Patagonia (Argentina)." Mesozoic birds: above the heads of dinosaurs (2002): 281-316. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/281640883_Osteology_of_the_Flightless_Patagopteryx_deferrariisi_from_the_Late_Cretaceous_of_Patagonia_Argentina

Wikipedia contributors. “Patagopteryx.” Wikipedia, 22 Apr. 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patagopteryx

[writethatdown]

hey if you catch yourself obsessively thinking about someone in a way that is disrupting your peace & natural routine from day to day such as expecting that text back, missing them etc...then it's time to take a moment, deep breaths & converge all that energy into the self. do an activity that takes you out of your mind & into the body and environment around you. do a workout, cook a meal, light a candle & journal, take a shower, take a walk, talk to people, make use of your 5 senses. do anything that reminds you that there is much more to the self & life. remind yourself that you should be central. remind yourself that it doesn't mean the other person is not important if your brain is turning mean. pls choose this over and over again if you are struggling with this kind of anxiety. create a life & be obsessed with it.

[sallowsarchives]

Clash and Convergence

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Tensions are running high as you continue to grapple with your conflicting emotions. However, with another job thrusting you both back into close proximity, could this new development be the key to easing the tension and mending the rift between you once more? Word Count: 8.2k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, angst, gunfights, injury, canon-typical danger, dead bodies (nothing too graphic), not proofread!! A/N: Hey again! Alright so compared to the last chapter, I've taken some creative liberties and sort of deviated from the canon for this one, so I’m hoping this one turns out good. Also, no smut for this part but I promise it’s coming in the next chapter, which I hope to finish as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read on AO3

A few weeks had passed since that night, yet despite the passage of time, the unspoken tension between you and Arthur remained. 

In the first few days after the party, you withdrew into yourself, steering clear of the usual banter and small talk. You went about your tasks with mechanical precision, your movements efficient but devoid of the usual liveliness.

The memory of the events that occurred lingered in the back of your mind, casting a shadow over your usual routines. Your tried to bury those thoughts, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that kept your hands busy and your mind occupied.

Lately, the days had been filled with nothing but the usual activities—scouting for potential heists, tending to horses, helping with chores, and maintaining the camp.

Arthur was rarely at the camp, often off on some job Dutch had given him. Some days, you'd catch him heading to his horse early in the morning, riding out to God knows where and wouldn’t return for a few days. When he did, he'd usually arrive with freshly caught game or extra cash to contribute.

On the days he was gone, the camp felt a little quieter, a little less tense. His absences were a small blessing, giving you the space needed to collect your thoughts and maintain the fragile peace between you both. During those times, you could almost pretend that things were as they once were.

But on the days he was present, you both made a concerted effort to avoid each other. Conversations were brief and strained, and any interaction was kept to a bare minimum.

He often busied himself with tasks around the camp—chopping wood, organizing supplies, and carrying hay bales to the horses as if they weighed nothing.

When he wasn’t working, he’d sit by the campfire, engaging in small conversations with the others or scribbling in his journal. On some days, he’d spend the entirety of his time hidden away in his room.

You, on the other hand, would retreat to the outskirts of the camp until Miss Grimshaw scolded you, at which point you'd bury yourself in tasks of your own, your demeanor just as distant. 

You found solace in the routine of chores, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that allowed you to avoid any unnecessary interaction with Arthur. 

You missed the days when you'd head into town with the girls or accompany some of the men for small jobs where you’d use your nimble fingers to good use. Blending into the bustling crowds, you’d quietly lift wallets and purses from unsuspecting townsfolk, finding a strange satisfaction in the simplicity and thrill of the task. 

But lately, with the Pinkertons breathing down the gang's necks even more, there hadn’t been much in the way of work. The lack of action only heightened the tension, making the days drag on with a restless energy that seemed to seep into every part of your life.

Before long, the unease between you and Arthur became palpable to those around you. The camp was abuzz with quiet speculation, though the mood remained outwardly unaffected.

Conversations with the others were tinged with curiosity as they noticed the stark shift from the usual lively banter to the strained silence that now characterized your interactions. 

The frequent arguments and sharp exchanges had given way to a stifling quiet, and it didn’t take long for the gang members to sense that something was off between you two. The change in dynamic was unusual and unsettling, prompting whispered conversations and knowing glances among the camp.

One evening, as you were helping Pearson with the supplies, you overheard Javier and Bill talking by the fire. 

“Have you noticed how quiet it’s been without those two at each other’s throats?” Bill said, shaking his head.

Javier nodded, glancing discreetly over at you. “Yeah, it’s strange. Almost miss the excitement.”

Lenny and Karen, who had joined the group, shared their own takes. 

“It’s strange,” Lenny said. “I mean, they’d always bicker and fight, but there was some kind of spark to it. Now, it’s just… cold. A whole lot of nothin’.”

“You’d think they’d have worked it out after gettin’ the chance to spend time together. But it’s like whatever went down just left a permanent chill between ’em,” Karen added.

Pearson, catching the conversation, gave you a look but said nothing. You simply shrugged and continued with your task, trying to ignore the growing weight of the situation.

Though the camp had noticed the shift between the two of you, no one had really confronted you about it—except for one person. 

Hosea, ever the keen observer, had picked up on the change in demeanor from you and Arthur during the ride back after the party. 

That night, as soon as you arrived at camp, you dismounted the coach before anyone even had a chance to offer a greeting and headed straight into the house without a word. 

The usual warmth of the campfire and the lively chatter that greeted the return of its members felt distant and muted to you, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions churning inside. 

Arthur had watched you storm off with a mix of frustration and concern, feeling a pang of guilt but too wrapped up in his own stubborn pride to approach you. His internal conflict was evident, as he struggled with his own emotions while grappling with the distance growing between you both. 

The weight of his own pride and the fear of further complicating things kept him from reaching out. He knew he was part of the issue, yet he couldn’t bring himself to make things right, leaving him brooding by the fire long after you had disappeared into the house.

Hosea didn’t miss the tension in the air as you left abruptly or the way Arthur’s mood had darkened. He watched Arthur’s restless movements, the firelight dancing over his face and revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability and frustration. The usual calm and quiet confidence Arthur exuded was replaced by visible agitation, a stark contrast to the man Hosea had come to know.

At first, Hosea hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was just another round of the aftermath from the usual quips and disagreements between you and Arthur. But as weeks went by and the tension persisted, he began to sense that something deeper was at play.

Fast forward to now, as you were engrossed in cleaning a rifle— which Hosea had actually gifted you after witnessing your impressive marksmanship on a hunt you had accompanied him on—you caught sight of him approaching out of the corner of your eye. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked gently, settling himself on a nearby log. His tone was casual but his eyes held a deep concern. "I've been meaning to check in, see how you're doin' after the party."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without betraying the turmoil inside. Hosea sat down beside you, watching as you continued to clean the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your hands almost mechanical.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice soft and careful. "I, uh, noticed you’ve seemed a bit... off since that night. You've been keepin' to yourself more, and there's not as much of that fiery spirit you usually show. I don't mean to pry, but, well, I reckon somethin' happened, didn't it?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes, only an open, sympathetic understanding. Sighing, you tried to find the right words. 

“Arthur and I just had a… disagreement. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“Disagreements are one thing, but this feels different,” Hosea said, his voice carrying a hint of concern. “I’ve seen you two go at it before, but there’s a coldness now that wasn’t there before. Something’s weighing heavy on both of you. You want to talk about it?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Hosea. Just a rough patch, like always.”

Hosea’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push further. 

“Alright. Just don’t let it fester. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, giving him a tight smile. “Thanks, Hosea. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Just need to keep busy.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your cleaning a soothing distraction from the thoughts clouding your mind. Hosea left you to your task, though his concerned gaze lingered a moment longer before he walked away, leaving you with your uneasy thoughts.

You knew his concern was genuine, but you were determined to keep things at a distance and focus on moving forward, despite the emotional undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, letting the familiarity of the rifle and the routine of your task provide a semblance of control amid the chaos of your feelings.

Later that evening, as the campfire crackled and cast flickering shadows around the camp, you sat with Abigail, the two of you enjoying a rare moment of light conversation.

The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the chill in the night air, and Javier’s gentle guitar strumming in the background added a soothing ambiance to the evening, offering a brief respite from the weight of your thoughts.

As you and Abigail chatted, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, the quiet rustling of footsteps and the gentle clearing of a throat drew your attention. Turning around, you saw Arthur standing there, his expression guarded yet earnest.

Arthur had arrived at camp some time in the afternoon, his presence marked by the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves and the clink of his spurs as he carried in another fresh load of game. His arrival had been met with the usual nods and grunts of acknowledgment, but he had kept to himself since then.

Arthur’s presence seemed to amplify the quiet of the evening, his stance betraying an unease that matched the tension between you two. The firelight cast shifting shadows on his face, revealing the weariness and frustration etched into his features. 

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Uh, Dutch needs to talk to us both.”

Arthur shifted his weight, his gaze flickering to the side before meeting yours again. “He uh… said he wanted to talk to us about something,” he added, his tone attempting to be casual but betraying a hint of the underlying strain.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself against the rising unease about what Dutch might need to discuss. Abigail, noticing the awkwardness in Arthur’s demeanor, chose not to comment. Instead, she offered a sympathetic smile and stood up, her gesture a small comfort in the tense moment.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she said softly, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat before heading off to give you and Arthur some space.

As you watched her walk away, you felt a brief flicker of gratitude for her understanding. You turned back to Arthur, who was still standing silently, his gaze shifting uncomfortably, before making your way towards Dutch’s quarters. 

Arthur’s footsteps were heavy behind you, his usual easy stride replaced by a more deliberate, uncertain pace. He cleared his throat, as if to break the silence, but no words came.

The crackling of the campfire and the soft murmur of distant conversations slowly faded, leaving only the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking under your steps as you both made your way inside the house and up the stairs.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing louder than you expected. After a moment, Dutch’s voice called out from inside, inviting you both in. With a deep breath, you turned the handle and stepped into the room, ready to face whatever Dutch had to say.

Upon entering, you found Dutch and Hosea on the terrace, engaged in a low conversation. The evening light cast a warm glow over them, adding a sense of calm to the otherwise tense atmosphere. Dutch looked up as you approached, a smile etching onto his face.

"Ah, there you are, come on out, we’ve got some things to discuss."

Hosea gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his expression one of quiet understanding. 

Dutch gestured for you and Arthur to join them at a small table set up with a few maps. 

“I wanted to go over a few things with you both,” Dutch said, his tone casual but authoritative. “Hosea and I have been discussin’ a plan, might just be what we need to get away from here and finally throw the Pinkertons off our scent for good.”

Hosea turned to you, adding to Dutch’s explanation. “There’s another job, particularly concerning the stagecoach details you picked up from the party, actually. You know, the one rumored to be packed with jewels and cash. We’ve gotten word that it’ll be rollin’ through just north of Lemoyne, somewhere in New Hanover, tomorrow.”

You felt a jolt of realization as Hosea’s words hit you. The mention of the stagecoach, packed with jewels and cash, immediately brought back the details you’d nearly forgotten in the whirlwind of recent events. 

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information you’d gathered during the party. This was the opportunity that could turn everything around, but it also meant diving right back into the chaos. You could sense the weight of the mission ahead, the stakes higher than ever.

You nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of the situation. “Alright, so what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Hosea glanced at Dutch, who took over the explanation. “We’ve got a basic outline. We reckon the stagecoach will be guarded, so you’ll need to stay sharp. Essentially, your task is to take out the guards and haul that coach right back here for safekeeping,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map.

Arthur leaned in, his expression serious. “Sounds like a plan. Who else is comin’ with us?”

Dutch and Hosea exchanged a glance, then Dutch answered, “It’ll just be the two of you. We’re countin’ on you to get it done.”

You blinked, eyes widening as you begin to feel a surge of frustration. “Wait, what? You can’t be serious,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, his unease becoming more evident. “Just the two of us?” he repeated, trying to mask his discomfort with a gruff tone. He looked between Dutch and Hosea, clearly taken aback by the lack of backup.

Dutch looked momentarily taken aback by your reactions, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s the problem?” he asked, clearly oblivious to the underlying tension between you and Arthur. “I figured you two would be the best for this. It’s a straightforward job. I know you can handle it. You seemed to do fine back at the mayor's party.”

Arthur fidgeted with his hat, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at you, his face showing a mix of frustration and reluctance.

Hosea, sensing the growing discomfort and understanding the gravity of the situation, stepped in. “Since you were the one who uncovered the details about the stagecoach,” he said, addressing you directly, “We figured you’d lead this one. You know the specifics and what to expect. Arthur here is our best bet to go with you, handle any trouble, and watch your back while you’re at it.”

“And besides,” Hosea continued, his tone softening, “I know you’ve been itching to get out of camp and put your skills to use. This job could be a good chance for you to get out of the camp for a bit and do something you’ve been craving.”

Oh you had been hoping for a change of scenery, but not the kind that would throw you right back into close quarters with Arthur. 

This is just fantastic… Just what you needed, no? You couldn’t make this up if you tried. Here you were, thinking you’d get a breather from the endless tension, only to find yourself on a direct collision course with it. Really, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor.

Arthur’s dry laugh cut through your thoughts, and you glanced at him, noting the mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. Yeah, he’s probably thinking the same thing. Didn’t expect this to come with a side of enforced teamwork. We’ve barely been able to keep it together when we're in camp. Now we’re supposed to be a seamless duo out there?

Before you or Arthur could voice any further objections, Dutch cuts in with a firm tone. “It’s settled. You two will handle this job together, and that’s final. No more complaints or arguments.”

The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation. 

Arthur let out a deep frustrated sigh. “Well, ain’t this just perfect,” he grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You shot him a resigned glance, both of you silently acknowledging the irony of the situation.

“Now you two get some rest tonight, and we’ll go over the details tomorrow. I trust you two will make it work.”

With that, Dutch gave a nod, signaling the end of the discussion.

As you were about to leave, Hosea approached you and Arthur with a gentle demeanor, clearly aware of the tension between you two. 

“I know it’s not ideal, especially with how things have been between you two,” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “But you’re both capable. I have faith that you’ll handle this just fine.”

Arthur shot Hosea a skeptical glance but nodded in acknowledgment, his gruff exterior softening slightly. “We’ll do what we can,” he muttered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You managed a tight smile, appreciating Hosea’s attempt to offer reassurance despite the circumstances. “Yeah, I suppose we’ll give it our best shot.”

Hosea nodded approvingly and patted Arthur on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now, try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

With that, Hosea gave you both a warm, encouraging smile before stepping back, leaving you and Arthur to face the uncomfortable reality of the task ahead.

The promise of the job loomed large, and the need to navigate both the heist and your fraught relationship now seemed inescapable.

The silence stretched, awkward and thick as the both of you grappled with the weight of the situation in your own way, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a heavy fog. You could almost feel the gears in Arthur’s mind turning, his usual confidence replaced by a reluctant resignation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. His voice was low, tinged with hesitation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly ideal. We’ve had our share of run-ins, and I’m not expecting us to suddenly be friends or anything. But, for what it’s worth, I’ll do my part to make sure this job goes smoothly.”

You studied Arthur for a moment, taking in the sincerity behind his words. Despite the tension, there was something begrudgingly reassuring in his willingness to make the best of the situation. You sighed, trying to keep your tone neutral but not entirely devoid of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, well, I’m not expecting us to be the best of friends either,” you replied, forcing a small, wry smile. “But I appreciate the effort. We’ll both just have to keep our heads in the game and get this done. For now, let’s try to focus on the job and not let our… differences get in the way.”

Arthur gave a short nod, the lines of tension on his face momentarily easing. “Fair enough.”

There was an awkward pause, the silence stretching out between you. Arthur finally cleared his throat, his eyes flickering towards you. “Look, about what happened—”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “We don’t need to rehash it. Let’s just focus on this job so we can continue with our ways.”

The last thing you wanted was to dredge up the emotions and pain that had been bubbling beneath the surface. Revisiting the topic felt like opening an old wound that had yet to heal, and you weren’t ready to face that vulnerability all over again. 

Arthur’s expression shifted, a mix of resignation and understanding passing over his face. “Alright,” he said, his tone flat. “We’ll do that.”

With that, you give him a nod before turning heel and walking away downstairs, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet. 

Arthur watched you go before heading to his room, the weight of the conversation and unresolved issues hanging heavy on his mind.

As you settled into your sleeping roll, the familiar comfort of the bedding did little to ease the turmoil inside you. The day's events, combined with the strained interaction with Arthur, made it difficult to quiet your racing thoughts. 

Despite the brief truce, the underlying tension between you and Arthur was far from resolved.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the sunlight filtering through the cracked windows. The sky outside was painted in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the sprawling estate of Shady Belle. 

You woke with a start, the unease of the previous night still heavy in your mind. The camp was already bustling with activity as the early risers went about their morning routines, preparing for the day ahead.

You and Arthur had gotten up early, each in your own way preparing for the job that lay ahead. The conversation this morning with Dutch and Hosea had been brief, focusing mainly on the specifics of the job and the logistics of the route. The details were clear, and the plan was set.

With that in mind, you were left to prepare for the task ahead. Preparing your saddle bag, you set about stashing away the essentials: ammunition, a spare set of clothes, and other provisions.

You grabbed your rifle, carefully checking it for any issues before securing it onto your horse, running a final check on your gear and making sure everything was in order.

The horse you were saddling stood patiently, its calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing in your mind. As you adjusted the saddle and tightened the straps, you tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside thoughts of the upcoming journey and the inevitable interactions with Arthur.

Arthur was nearby, working on his own preparations. Though there was no direct conversation between you, the occasional glance or nod indicated a mutual understanding of the importance of the task at hand.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the unspoken words and unresolved feelings between you. The air was thick with the weight of the unaddressed issues, but you both knew that there was no room for sentiment right now.

You let out a sigh before mounting your horse. The two of you had a job to do, and despite the personal issues that loomed, you had to find a way to make it work. This job had to go smoothly, and you needed to focus on that, no matter how difficult this job was already proving to be.

Arthur gave a brief nod, acknowledging your resolve, and mounted his own horse. With a final deep breath, you spurred your horse into motion. 

Arthur fell into line beside you, and together, you set out on the journey ahead.

The road stretched out before you, winding through the dense forests and swamps. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm light over the landscape. 

The journey had been relatively uneventful so far, a few scattered encounters with travelers and the occasional wildlife breaking the monotony.

You and Arthur rode side by side, the silence between you still thick and uncomfortable. You focused on the landscape around you, the dense trees and winding paths offering a certain level of tranquility.

Arthur, for his part, appeared deep in thought. He occasionally glanced over at you, but the eye contact was fleeting.

His usual confident demeanor was replaced with a quiet determination, and the silence spoke volumes of the discomfort that lingered.

You had both briefly reviewed the details of the job, and the execution was expected to be straightforward. The plan was simple enough: intercept the stagecoach, secure the loot, and make a swift escape with the coach to a hiding place somewhere near camp. 

After a beat, Arthur finally broke the silence. 

“You ready for this?” 

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road ahead.

“Yeah, just like any other job, right?” you replied, keeping your tone steady, though the edge in your voice was unmistakable.

Arthur sighed, clearly sensing the strain in your words. “Look, I know things ain’t been... easy between us. But we gotta get through this.”

You glanced over at him, your expression hardening. 

“I know that, Arthur. I’m not gonna let whatever’s between us mess up the job. I’ve got a job to do, and so do you. I intend to see it through without letting personal grudges get in the way.”

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and resignation. “Yeah, I know you will. Just... stay close, alright? We need to be on the same page.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Understood. Let’s just get this done.” 

The tension lingered, but for now, it was buried under the urgency of the job.

The terrain shifted subtly, the once marshy ground giving way to the rich, green embrace of dense forests, rolling hills, and steep mountains. 

The road followed a river that wound alongside you, its surface catching the overcast sky’s light in a subdued, shimmering dance. The rhythmic flow of the water provided a gentle counterpoint to the tension between you and Arthur, a quiet reminder of the natural beauty surrounding your uneasy journey.

Arthur’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his focus unyielding. He kept his gaze sharp, scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Despite the coldness between you, you couldn’t help but notice the way he took his job seriously, his focus unwavering. 

His attention to detail was evident as he navigated the terrain, maneuvering his horse with practiced ease. Each time he glanced over at you, his eyes were a mix of concentration and something softer.

Eventually, you reached a vantage point overlooking the road where the stagecoach was expected to pass. You dismount your horse, feeling the weight of the upcoming task settle heavily on your shoulders. Arthur followed suit, his expression serious as he joined you.

"So, how do you wanna do this? You take the front, and I cover the back?" Arthur's tone was practical, but there was a hint of something less guarded in his voice.

A smile unexpectedly crept up on your lips, a rare break from the seriousness that had defined your recent interactions, as you thought of how you approached these jobs with a different flair when you were with the girls.

Arthur glanced over, his expression guarded but curious. You continued, “Or I could play the helpless lady who needs help while you sneak up on ‘em?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a small, begrudging smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, so you’re thinkin’ of dustin’ off the old act, huh? Think you still got it?”

You raised an eyebrow, the tension easing just a bit as a genuine smile tugged at your lips.  “Oh, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. But you better keep up if you’re gonna be my backup.”

Arthur nodded, his smile widening slightly. “You got it.”

You checked your gear, slinging your rifle securely behind you. Arthur did the same, both of you falling into the familiar routine of preparation.

As you moved into position, the earlier unease shifted into focused, purposeful energy. 

The playful banter had served its purpose, bringing a brief moment of levity to the serious task ahead. Now, with the weight of the mission on your shoulders, you prepared for the role you’d play and the action to come.

“You think this’ll work?” you ask, your voice tinged with both curiosity and apprehension.

Arthur glances up at you as you both make your way slightly further down the hill. 

“It’s our best shot. We’ll need to time it right. ‘Sides, we’ve got the element of surprise on our side.”

You nod as you stop just before the road, positioning yourselves behind the trees and thick bushes, your eyes scanning the road for any sign of the stagecoach.

The sun was at an angle indicating that sunset was within an hour or two, casting long shadows that merged with the undergrowth, providing natural cover. The sound of the flowing river in the distance had faded into the background as you both waited in tense silence. 

Then, amidst the quiet, you both heard it—a distant rumble growing louder. The roll of the coach’s wheels crunching over the road, steadily approaching. 

You exchanged a sharp glance with Arthur, the anticipation spiking as you prepared for the imminent arrival of your target.

Peeking over the edge of your hiding spot, you counted around five guards stationed around the stagecoach, each one mounted on horseback with rifles gripped tightly in their hands. They occasionally glanced at each other, their movements synchronized but relaxed, their attention more on the road ahead than on the dense cover flanking either side—rookie mistake.

The impending arrival of your target presented a perfect opportunity. Their lack of vigilance provided a window to implement your plan.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you signal to Arthur with a subtle nod, your heart racing as the time to act approaches.

You step out from behind the tree and move to a position where the road curves, creating the illusion of a stranded traveler in need of assistance. 

As you raise a hand to signal distress, you adjust your expression to one of genuine concern before you stumble forward, making sure to catch sight of the approaching vehicle, your movements exaggerated for effect. 

The guards notice your presence immediately, their posture becoming tense as they exchange wary glances. The coach begins to slow, and one of the guards shouts over.

“Hold up! What’s the matter?” His voice carries a mix of suspicion and urgency as he strains to see what’s going on.

That’s your cue. You force a shaky voice as you call out, “Help! My horse threw a shoe, and I’m stranded here! Please, I need assistance!”

You stagger slightly, clutching your arm as if in pain, and glance anxiously towards the coach. The guards’ expressions shift from suspicion to concern as they assess the situation. 

They exchange a few quick words, and one of them starts to dismount, moving towards you with a wary but reluctant gait.

Concealed by the trees, Arthur remains hidden, his sharp eyes locked on the scene. He watches as the guard approaches, waiting for the precise moment to make his move. Your heart races as you maintain your act, trying to keep your expression a mix of fear and gratitude.

As the guard comes closer, his eyes seem to fixate on something behind your back and his expression shifts to alarm, his hand moving instinctively towards his weapon.

“Hold on a minute,” he calls out, voice now laced with suspicion. The tone of his voice immediately alerts the other guards, who begin to look more closely at the situation. “What’s that on your back?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow as he notices the shift in the guards' demeanor. His movements are fluid and calculated as he positions himself strategically, drawing his rifle with practiced precision. He takes a deep breath and steadies his aim, preparing to act at a moment’s notice.

You freeze, trying to keep your expression composed despite the sudden shift. Your heart skips a beat, and you shoot a quick glance toward Arthur, who’s watching intently from his hidden spot.

The guard takes another cautious step closer, his gaze fixed on your rifle. “Seems a bit odd for someone stranded to be carrying a rifle, don’t ya think?”

As steady as you can manage, you respond, “I— I just needed it for protection. I didn’t expect trouble.” 

You can feel the weight of his scrutiny, and you silently pray that your composed demeanor is enough to keep suspicion at bay.

As the guard’s suspicion grows, he signals to the other guards, who start to move in closer, their hands gripping their weapons with increased wariness. 

The tension thickens, palpable in the tightening of their grips and the narrowing of their eyes. You can almost see the wheels turning in their heads, questioning the authenticity of your situation.

Arthur’s eyes narrow, realizing that the plan might be in jeopardy. His fingers tighten around the handle of his own rifle, ready to act. 

The guards' wary movements signal that they're about to take a closer look at you, their caution evident in their deliberate steps. You catch Arthur's eye, and he gives a barely perceptible nod—a clear signal that the time to act is now, before the guards get any closer or the situation escalates further.

With a deep breath, you prepare yourself, knowing that the success of the job now hinges on a delicate balance between deception and action.

As the guard steps closer, his suspicion hardening into action, the tension snaps like a taut wire. The moment he raises his hand to signal the other guards to move in, the situation escalates rapidly.

The air fills with the sudden sharp crack of gunfire as Arthur’s rifle erupts from the trees. His shots ring true, striking one of the guards and sending him crashing to the ground. The remaining men, caught off guard, scramble for cover as the shootout begins in earnest.

You draw your own rifle, aiming at the nearest one as you move quickly to the side, seeking cover behind a large rock. 

Your shots are quick and precise, the loud reports of your gun blending into the chaotic symphony of the firefight. The guards on horseback begin to return fire, their rifles barking in rapid succession.

Amid the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Arthur, moving with practiced precision. He’s taking them down with controlled bursts of fire, his movements fluid and efficient. He’s clearly in his element, but even so, his eyes occasionally flicker toward you, ensuring you’re holding your own.

The stagecoach driver, realizing the situation has gone terribly wrong, frantically tries to maneuver the vehicle away from the danger. His hands tremble as he struggles to keep the frantic horses under control.

One of the guards, attempting to flank you, takes a well-aimed shot, forcing you to duck behind your cover. You peer out, seeing Arthur’s form in the distance as he intercepts the guard, eliminating the threat with a single, decisive shot.

As the last of the guards fall, the chaos begins to wane. The sound of gunfire now replaced by the restless snorting of the horses. 

You scan the area, assessing the situation, and your heart starts to slow as you see the immediate threat has been dealt with.

Arthur, breathing heavily from the exertion, emerges from his cover, his eyes scanning the scene for any remaining danger. He gives you a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning to secure the stagecoach. 

You emerge from your cover and make a beeline for the stagecoach, reaching the vehicle just as Arthur approaches it, his face a mask of focused intensity. 

The driver has managed to bring the horses to a halt. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur nudges the man with a sharp flick of his rifle. Clearly intimidated by Arthur’s commanding presence, he scrambles off the seat and retreats into the road with a frantic pace.

With the situation now under control, you watch as Arthur focuses on calming the restless horses. He approaches them carefully, his voice a soothing murmur that cuts through the chaos. The horses’ breathing begins to slow, their agitation easing under his calm presence.

You take a moment to catch your breath and collect yourself, observing Arthur’s handling of the situation. His actions are steady and confident, and you can see the familiar ease with which he interacts with the animals. It’s a side of him that, despite everything, has managed to impress you.

Catching the subtle shift in your expression, he glances over at you. His gaze lingering for a moment. For a brief instant, his own hardened expression softens, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a small, almost self-satisfied smile. 

You blink, momentarily flustered. You hadn’t realized how much you were letting your guard down, caught off-guard by the warmth in his eyes and the easy way he spoke. 

The sight is fleeting but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the shared success and a momentary easing of the tension that had previously clouded your interactions.

You attempt to steady your voice, but it comes out softer than intended. “Come on, let’s check if this thing has exactly what they said.”

Arthur gives a nod, his focus shifting to the task at hand as you both move to inspect the stagecoach. 

As you open the coach's doors, the sight inside is nothing short of astonishing.

Chests, small pouches, lockboxes, and crates are crammed into the coach, each one overflowing with a dazzling array of jewels and cash. Arthur’s eyes widen as he takes in the sheer volume of riches. 

Seeing the score, the weight of the day's hostility seems to have dissolved, replaced by a palpable sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Arthur whistles, clearly impressed. “Damn, we hit the mother lode, this is more than I ever expected.”

You nod, grabbing a small bag to carefully assess the loot. This one was filled with sparkling rings and ornate necklaces. The sight is overwhelming, and the weight of the haul is tangible even before you touch it.

Beside you, Arthur takes to opening a lockbox with his hunting knife. The contents inside reveal neatly stacked bundles of cash. 

“This is a hell of a find,” he says with a hint of admiration in his voice. “Dutch is gonna be thrilled.”

“This is more than enough for the gang,” you comment, carefully handling each piece. “Who in their right mind would only send five guards to accompany this?”

“Seems like they were a bit too confident in their security. Their loss is our gain, though.”

“Let’s get this sorted and packed up. We need to move quick before anyone starts sniffing around.”

You whistle for your horse and begin stashing a few bundles of cash and select pieces of jewelry into the saddlebag. Arthur mirrors your actions, moving with deliberate speed as he fills his satchel with a mix of valuable items from the coach.

You and Arthur quickly secure the remaining loot and prepare the stagecoach for its journey before he climbs up to the driver’s seat, taking the reins with a firm grip.

“Let’s get this thing moving,” he says, his voice low but determined.

You nod, taking your place beside him whistling to your horses once more, signaling them to follow. The stagecoach lurches forward as Arthur cracks the reins, guiding the horses into a steady trot. 

With the weight of the haul securely packed and the adrenaline of the heist gradually fading, a sense of accomplishment settles in. The tense moments of the plan's execution now give way to the satisfaction of a job well done.

Arthur glances over at you, a trace of a smile lingering on his lips. “Good work back there. Reckon we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You catch his gaze and, despite yourself, feel a flicker of warmth. “Yeah, just don’t get used to it.”

Arthur chuckles softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Half an hour in, you continue your journey to the agreed location with the fruits of your labor securely in tow.

The adrenaline from the earlier confrontation has faded, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and relief. The surroundings have returned to their tranquil state, the earlier chaos now a distant memory as you and Arthur ride side by side, the silence between you now more comfortable and less charged than before.

With the sun setting, you keep a vigilant eye on the surroundings, focusing on the road and surrounding area ahead for any signs of trouble. 

Suddenly, the faint sound of galloping hooves slices through the calm, growing abruptly louder. The rhythmic pounding signifies an approaching group, and the urgency in their pace suggests they might be heading straight for you.

You glance over at Arthur, noticing his instant shift in posture, his hands tightening slightly on the reigns. 

Following the sound, you look behind and see a horde of riders emerging from the tree line, their horses kicking up clouds of dust as they charge forward. The group is sizable, and their intent is clear—they’re coming fast and with purpose.

Arthur’s jaw clenches as he takes in the approaching threat. He adjusts his grip on the reins, his frustration evident but his focus unwavering. “Damn it,” he growls. “We can’t outrun ‘em with this load.”

With resolve, you kneel a leg on the seat, bracing yourself against the coach roof for stability. Your expression is determined as you aim your rifle at the approaching riders. 

“You just keep those horses running. I’ll handle the welcoming committee,” you call out to Arthur, your voice steady. Arthur glances over, a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the urgency, before his gaze sharpens back on the road. 

The coach surges ahead, the horses racing faster as Arthur skillfully maneuvers them away from the oncoming threat. The clash of gunfire and the thunderous pounding of hooves create a frenzied soundtrack to the chaos unfolding.

The vehicle sways with the sudden bursts and you brace yourself, focusing on keeping your aim steady amidst the chaotic barrage.

Bullets ricochet off the ground near the coach, their danger unmistakable. You grit your teeth, cursing under your breath as you see both your and Arthur’s horses veering sharply to another direction to evade the attackers, separating them from you.

From beside you, Arthur's curse breaks through the chaos. You glance over to see the road ahead sharply climbing, winding up the mountain with a steep incline.

The horses strain against the uneven terrain, their hooves scrambling for traction as the coach teeters perilously, the situation now becoming more complicated, with the treacherous path adding another layer of danger to the already tense escape.

You turn to see Arthur’s face set in grim determination, his focus entirely on the road. His efforts to control the coach are apparent as he wrestles for control, fighting against the treacherous surface.

“Dammit!” Arthur growls, his knuckles white as he grips the reins tightly. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a getaway route!”

The incline grows steeper, and the coach struggles to gain traction.

You return your gaze to the unmistakable sound of more guards closing in, aiming steadily at those who are getting too close for comfort.

Their pursuit is relentless, and the weight of the situation becomes increasingly apparent. Each shot you fire feels like a desperate attempt to stave off the growing threat, as the gap between you and the pursuing riders narrows with every passing moment.

“They’re gaining on us!” you shout over the cacophony of gunfire and the rumbling coach. “There’s too many of them. We have to leave the coach!”

The sound of men shouting and the sharp crack of gunfire splintering the wood of the coach fills the air, heightening the chaos. The horses, already on edge, begin to panic, their frantic movements causing the coach to lurch.

The coach tilts precariously toward the edge of the mountain, and for a moment, you feel yourself tipping dangerously close to the edge of your seat. Rocks tumble down the steep incline as the coach seems on the verge of tipping over completely.

In a split second, Arthur’s arm shoots out, grabbing you firmly by the waist and pulling you back into place while still maintaining control of the reins. The coach rights itself with a jolt, the wheels crunching heavily on the loose gravel as it stabilizes. The sudden movement pulls you both back from the brink, but the threat of the approaching guards remains ever-present.

“You alright?” he calls out, his voice edged with worry amidst the chaos, his hand still wrapped around your waist as you cling to him for stability.

You nod quickly, forcing a shaky nod. “I’m good… Just keep this thing steady.”

Arthur’s hand slips away as he refocuses on guiding the coach.

You lean back, gripping onto the seat with both hands to brace yourself against the relentless jostling. 

You can feel the coach shudder under the strain of the terrain and the impact of the guards’ gunfire. The unstable footing and the increasing danger make it clear that staying in the coach is no longer an option.

Realizing there's no way back, you scan the surroundings desperately for an escape route. Ahead, on a flatter section of the mountain, your eyes land on a bridge spanning a rushing river below. It’s a precarious-looking structure, but it might be your only chance.

“Arthur! That bridge up ahead!”

Arthur’s eyes dart to the bridge, and he curses under his breath. 

"That thing looks like it's barely hangin' on," he mutters, a worried frown on his face. 

The two of you exchange a worried glance, the urgency of the situation clear. With no other options and the guards closing in, the risk of crossing the unstable bridge might be your only chance at escape.

Arthur takes a deep breath, his expression set with determination. 

He grips the reins tighter and steers the coach toward the bridge, maneuvering through the challenging terrain. 

The stagecoach lurches and tilts dangerously as it approaches the bridge, the horses straining against their ropes. Every bump and sway sends a jolt through the coach, and the bridge creaks ominously under the pressure of the approaching load.

The guards’ shouts grow louder, their pursuit relentless, adding to the mounting pressure.

Arthur's knuckles whiten as he clenches the reins, his eyes locked on the rickety structure ahead. “Hang on!” 

The wheels hit the first few planks with a jarring thud, the structure shuddering violently while you brace yourself against the seat, gripping it tightly. The bridge sways and creaks under the strain, the narrow path making it clear that any wrong move could spell disaster.

The wooden planks of the bridge groan in protest, threatening to buckle under the weight. You can see the river below churning violently, a reminder of the precarious situation. 

As you and Arthur drive the stagecoach across the rickety bridge, the relentless pursuit of the guards continues. Gunfire cracks through the air, and the panicked horses struggle to keep their footing on the unstable wooden planks.

“Arthur, watch out!” you shout, gripping the edge of the coach seat tightly.

Arthur's eyes dart to the side, spotting the weak planks giving way under the weight and stress of the coach. The bridge shudders violently, and a loud cracking sound echoes through.

Without warning, the bridge gives way entirely. The horses scream in terror as the entire stagecoach plunges into the rushing river below. 

The world blurs around you as you're thrown from the driver’s seat, hitting the icy river with a jarring impact.

Cold water engulfs you instantly, and the current's force pulls you under, dragging you downstream. As you struggle to stay afloat, you catch fleeting glimpses of the stagecoach being smashed to pieces against the rocks and debris.

The river’s powerful current quickly separates you and Arthur, each of you fighting to keep afloat. Your heart races, and every instinct urges you to fight the current. The roar of the river overwhelms your senses, making it difficult to think clearly. You reach out, trying to find something solid to grab onto, while the chaos of the river makes every movement a battle.

"Hold on!" Arthur's voice, hoarse with effort, barely reaches you over the roar of the river, eyes widening in alarm as he sees you being dragged away by the current.

"Arthur!" you scream back, your voice filled with panic as the water pulls you under again. 

You fight to surface, gasping for air, the relentless force of the river carrying you further away. The rush of water roars in your ears, drowning out any other sound, and your vision blurs with each desperate attempt to find your footing.

In the chaos, the water pulls you under once more. As you struggle against the current, a sharp pain explodes in your head. The impact sends you spinning, and the world around you blurs into a dizzying haze. Each breath is a struggle, the cold water overwhelming your senses as you fight to stay conscious.

The agony in your head intensifies, and the cold, relentless river drags you further from the surface. The muffled, distant sound of Arthur’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear before darkness engulfs you.

A/N: Alright so not much going on between the two this chapter, hopefully everything is resolved in the next. Stay tuned for the next one which is the final part!

[icedsodapop]

White journalism has mostly been utterly rubbish at covering the recent controversy between Jasmine Crockett and Marjorie Taylor Greene, writing about the incident as two women who derailed a meeting when they hurled appearance-based insults at each other, not understanding that what Greene, a literal white supremacist, was doing by commenting on Crockett's fake eyelashes affecting her work, was actually implying that Crockett's appearance was unprofessional and therefore, incompetent. The appearances of Black and Brown women are often scrutinised and they are penalized for not adhering to standards rooted in white supremacy.

Here's a written account by a Black woman:

I looked up to find a critical mass of Black women excitedly converging upon my interview station. Forming a half circle around my table, they began exclaiming how enamored they were by my appearance and how it countered much of the counseling they had received on how to appear “professional” and “look like a lawyer.” They emphatically discussed the damage and financial expense they incurred to straighten and subdue their naturally coiled, gravity defying hair to appear “polished” and “professional” for their interviews. They shared how they spent several hours in several stores seeking a skirt suit that would complement their figure, but not emphasize or unveil their curves, and were ultimately forced to splurge on a tailor to appear feminine and physically appealing without being hypersexualized, since the average suit is not designed to fit their body type. They were told to wear these skirt suits with “flesh toned” stockings and “nude” makeup for a “polished” but “professional” look, and reflected upon their frustration running up and down retail aisles seeking “flesh tones” and “nude” colors that actually matched their complexion, since the “darkest” shade of most products still only reflect the darkest tone of white or light skin. They looked at me, a visibly Black woman with brown skin, wearing bold gold earrings, a large naturally curly afro, bright colored fitted pant suit, and bare-face except for a bright red lip, and questioned whether it might be possible to enter the legal profession without having to leave elements of their Black womanhood behind.

[drarryspecificrecs]

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[enchantedwitchling]

The Magic of Everyday: How I Find Witchcraft in the Ordinary.

🌿🌕✨

Do you ever stop to marvel at the enchantment that surrounds us, hidden in plain sight? As I delve deeper into my journey of practicing witchcraft, I've come to realize that magic isn't just about casting grand spells or performing elaborate rituals—it's woven into the very fabric of our everyday lives.

🌟✨

Join me as I embark on this enchanting exploration of "The Magic of Everyday," where I'll reveal how I find witchcraft in the ordinary and embrace the extraordinary in the mundane.

🌟✨

Morning Brew, Morning Spells ☕🔮 Every morning, as the sun rises and the world awakens, I stand by the window, cradling my warm mug of tea or coffee, or in the summer months with iced drinks (I love an iced coffee!). With every sip, I imbue my drink with intentions of clarity and peace.

The Language of Plants and Crystals 🌿💎 During my daily walks, I've discovered a secret language spoken by the plants and crystals. The rustling leaves whisper ancient wisdom, while the sparkling crystals hum with energy. Nature, the most potent spell caster, teaches me to be still, listen, and learn.

Embracing the Elements 🌊🔥💨🌍 The elements surround us at all times, and recognising their presence is a powerful key to unlock everyday magic. I breathe in the fresh air, feel the earth beneath my feet, and let the rain cleanse my spirit. When I light a candle, I invoke the transformative power of fire. By connecting with the elements, I connect with the core of existence.

Enchanted Home Space 🏠✨ My home is my sacred space, a sanctuary for my craft. I've adorned it with little altars and candles, which I light to honour the spirits that reside within these walls. Cleansing my space with smoke incense purifies and refreshes the energy, filling the air with positive vibrations.

Moonlit Dream weaving 🌙🌌 Under the moon's tender gaze, I venture into the realm of dreams. I keep a dream journal by my bedside, capturing the mysteries that unfold during the night. In the gentle light of the moon, I feel closer to the universal energy that weaves us all together.

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In the grand tapestry of life, there's magic in the ordinary—waiting for us to embrace it with wonder and gratitude. By cherishing these moments, we tap into the essence of witchcraft, where intention and reverence converge.

So, as you go about your day, remember to pause, breathe, and observe the magic that surrounds you. Whether it's in the flight of a butterfly, the sparkle of dew on a leaf, or the warmth of a friend's smile, the enchantment of everyday life awaits your discovery.

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[fredwkong]

Alphaworld File 1: Oral History

The universe is multifarious, constantly diverging as new choices are made. Spinning away through time, these alternate realities become locked away from our own, so we can never know exactly what would have happened if a single choice was made differently.

Except, sometimes, two of those worlds, careening through the upper dimensions, happen to converge. As they slide past each other, they may line up just so, each leaving behind fragments as they continue their journey into their divergent futures. You’ve never heard of this, because the remnants, mostly data, are swiftly collected by various government agencies and collected into reports on the intercepted reality.

This report collects various scientific articles, personal journals, news reels, and even a documentary series from one such reality, codenamed Alphaworld. In this world, gay men have not only become the norm, but have seemingly replaced all other people. In this world, society is stratified into an apparently biological hierarchy of homosexual castes, based on men’s physical characteristics and psychologies. Upon finishing the following fragment from a peer-reviewed article that was a trace recovered from Alphaworld, please select the next fragment you would like to consume.

X

An Oral History of the Creation and Initial Spread of the Alpha Phenomenon, by Alpha Dr. Jose Martinez

Until recently, it was not known what sparked the spread of the Alpha Phenomenon which has wholly remade the world in recent years. This was until Alpha Joshua Dearfoot, who resides with his Betas in rural ex-Ontario, stated during a livestream on OnlyFans that he is the original Alpha.

Alpha Dearfoot does not interact with Betas from outside his harem unless they renounce their current Alpha. As this research team contains no unbonded Betas—Alpha Dr. Martinez says we can’t spend too much time with non-harem Betas—we investigated among those close to Alpha Dearfoot, conducting interviews and surveying in the local area to discover as much as we could.

Joshua, as he was known before the emergence of the Alpha Phenomenon, was a PhD candidate in nanotechnology, with a secondary focus in physiology. Photographs kept by his father (Beta to Alpha Sean Barehill) reveal that through his youth and young adulthood Joshua was physically unimpressive, with a physique not even reaching the base level expected of a Beta.

According to a classmate of Joshua’s from university (Beta to Alpha Liam Oliver), Joshua was studious but insecure: “I mean, I used to push him around all the time for being a fa— gay kid. Gay and a nerd? In the Old World, that was, like, the worst thing.” When asked about whether he has properly apologised, the Beta said, in a rapturous voice, “Oh, yeah, Alpha Dearfoot was my first. He disciplined me so well I could barely walk, I came like four times. Then he told me to come join Alpha Liam’s harem. I mean, he wasn’t Alpha Liam then, I was one of the first guys to go full Beta on campus.”

It appears that Alpha Dearfoot had a difficult youth, growing up unable to meet certain Old World expectations of manhood. The masculine stereotypes of Native Americans also seem to have weighed on him, as he was entirely unable to meet them. As his father told us, “Joshua was a sweet kid, but he got bullied for being too short and scrawny, not matching the image of an “Indian” in all these bigoted kids’ heads. He was obsessed with growing bigger, which is why he went into physio.” Remember, in some communities it is normal for a Beta father to continue to refer to his Alpha son by his first name.

According to Sigma Harrison White, a former lab partner of Dearfoot’s who fucked us on his lawn in exchange for this interview, Joshua was obsessed with creating some way to become more manly. “He spent some really long evenings in the lab,” said Harrison while one of us squealed in the grass beneath him. “One morning he came out with this manic grin on his face, said that he’d finally done it, and ran off. Two weeks later, he came back a full Alpha.” At this point, Harrison’s pace slowed down as he became contemplative. “It was only after he started hooking up with all the queer guys on campus that we started becoming Alphas and Sigmas and stuff, too.”

Did Alpha Dearfoot intend for the Alpha Phenomenon to be infectious? A Beta from his harem claims not. “He got home from school one morning all excited about some project he’d finished,” the Beta told us—it seems that he and Alpha Dearfoot were childhood friends. “The next day, he seemed a little different, a little more muscular, more assertive. He seemed really satisfied for about a week, then he got scared. He just kept getting bigger. The day he got taller than me and nearly broke a bar at the gym doing deadlifts, I started feeling the Beta change.

“I went to him and started telling him about my muscle gains and all the weird thoughts and sensations I was experiencing, and he got really scared,” the Beta continued, his eyes distant. “I started to comfort him, and that was when we felt the bond form. It felt so right for him to be my first, to finger me open and fill me with his still-growing dick.”

While we pressed for more details about what may have been the first Alpha/Beta bond in history, the Beta refused to disclose more information, claiming that it was private to him and his Alpha. For the reader’s imagination, see Figure A to find a picture of Alpha Dearfoot from his Instagram profile.

Alpha Dearfoot appears to have intended to create a nanomachine-based masculinity booster, and the transmissibility of the Alpha Phenomenon, as well as the behavioural and sexual changes it induces, were unintended side effects, perhaps introduced in the particles’ replication process. The effects of the Alpha Phenomenon on aging and physical fitness may also be unexpected consequences of Alpha Dearfoot's programming efforts.

According to Alpha Young Baek Hyeon, who lives in the former New York area with a mixed harem, he and Alpha Dearfoot attempted to “date,” an outmoded practice common in the Old World, during the early weeks of the Alpha Phenomenon’s spread. “Alpha DeWayne and I work well together,” Alpha Young told us by video call, “but we’re both pretty chill even since we changed. Alpha Dearfoot and I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room once I had transformed. He’s one of the most territorial Alphas I’ve ever met, he can barely stand to have another Alpha within a mile of him.” As Alpha Young spoke, we watched a well-trained Beta enter the room with a plate of apple slices and present them to his Alpha.

“He was really torn up about it, too. Even though we couldn’t stop yelling at each other in person or over the phone, he left me a ton of really sweet voice messages about how much he’d liked me before we became Alphas.” Alpha Young took a bite of apple and ruffled his Beta’s hair, causing all of us to shudder with phantom pleasure at the affection. With a contemplative expression, Alpha Young said, “No, I don’t think he meant for any of this to happen.”

While this study has yielded plenty of useful biographical information about the man apparently responsible for the Alpha Phenomenon that changed the world, we appear no closer to understanding the precise mechanism of that change. With better access to the programming of the nanomachines, perhaps it would be possible to reduce the natural aggressiveness of the Alphas, allowing Alphas like Dearfoot to return to their studies or jobs if they so wish. In the following section, we will propose potential opportunities for further research in the effort to isolate the Alpha Phenomenon.

Or vote on Strawpoll here: https://strawpoll.com/wby5A0vw8yA

This series is my way of celebrating reaching 2000 followers! I hope you enjoy this glimpse into Alphaworld and vote on what file you would like to see next. There is no strict update schedule, so you good boys better be on the lookout for a new chapter you can vote on ;)

[phantom-nisnow]

NARRATIVE STORYTELLING + COMPOSITION

First thing I always think of before doing ANY drawing is: what’s the story I want to tell? What’s the mood/emotion it should give off? 

For The Visionary, I wanted to capture that feeling of seeing your hard work and creations finally come to life. It’s that satisfaction as artists, engineers, and creators we feel after seeing our hard work finally bear the fruits of our labor. It’s an exhilarating feeling and we feel a sense of pride. 

I can pick out some key words from those descriptions: pride, excitement, satisfaction. Now, how do I depict that in the illustration + what compositional tools can reinforce that feeling and therefore story?

I also knew I wanted to draw my character, Kala. To reinforce the feeling, I wanted to think of his action and, in general, what he would be thinking in the illustration. I did a few thumbnails like below and figured to have him writing in his book and depicting boats in the background, almost like he’s drawing them at the moment and they’re appearing in the background.

Action: writing in his journal, almost as if making the background come to life -> gives a sense of pride and excitement.

This forms the basis of my composition. Everything from here on out (every decision in the illustration) relates back to this.

When thinking of your own illustrations and what you want your characters to do, try this simple template (do this for each of your characters in the scene):

<character> <action> -> gives <mood/emotion> e.g. The rogue flees from the castle guards -> gives a sense of urgency. A witch backs away from her cauldron -> gives a sense of fear.

Kala’s placement is important as well. I purposely made him stand on one of the fourths of the canvas at the far left to make him feel almost like one of the boats (one of his creations). You know those scenes in pirate movies (or even just Navia Genshin Impact) where the character stands next to all their soldiers or a series of cannons? Yeah, I wanted to do something similar here.

After thumbnailing, I’ll start refining the drawing and getting the structure right before doing anything else. Often, I’ll take reference photos like this and put them together in Photoshop. This helps not only get more accurate drawings but you can even put yourself in the shoes of your character. Imagine how they’re feeling in your illustration and act it out. Your pose—and therefore, your character’s pose—might change depending on how you do it which can help with your drawing.

The boats get lighter in value as they recede to the background. I fix this later on in the composition, but since Kala is the focus, I had to make sure that he had the greatest amount of contrast. So I put a hint of light near his face so that his silhouette would pop well against the darker boat behind him. I later enforce this contrast through differences in color saturation which I will show soon. 

I felt the boats weren’t grand enough + the mast shapes were too busy, and therefore didn’t support the story as strongly as I wanted to. And to further add contrast + give Kala more focus, I made the boats a bit larger, drawing them more from a low angle to further emphasize their grandiosity and the pride Kala feels in his work. It’s great when something works both compositionally well and enforces the story:

General lines of action of objects for flow. The boats specifically are all angled differently, converging towards Kala, to draw the eye towards him more + not feel static. It creates a sweeping motion to draw the eye towards him, along with the placement of papers and the shape of his coat further adding to the flow. 

In general, you can strategically place objects in your drawing to follow certain lines of flow that go back to your focus. This helps guide your viewer around your piece while also giving a sense of motion and energy.

Every artistic decision you make should reinforce the story in some way. Even the tiniest things like the line art style. This idea came after looking through the Across the Spiderverse concept art book, specifically reading about the art style choices of Nueva York. Constructional lines and architectural diagrams are seen throughout the city and I wanted to bring a bit of that into this piece. 

It further enforces the idea that Kala is creating the background behind him while also making the boats recede into the background due to atmospheric perspective. Depth of field is determined by how refined the boat’s sketch is, so the boat furthest away is still in pure constructional lines while the one closest to him is fully rendered. I thought that was a big brain idea and I’m glad I went with it >:)

To add a bit of texture, I added a grid pattern off in the distance to help with the feeling of the background being drawn in. I also added sketches of engineering diagrams into Kala’s blue coat for a bit of visual interest. These further add to the fact my character is an engineer and is almost drawing the background himself. Plus, it just looks cool.

Quick breakdown of some visual choices + how they show the story: 

large value range: the values go from very dark to very light -> deeper contrast gives sense of drama and overall intensity to the image -> reinforces feelings of epicness

strong warm vs. cool color contrast: shows the sunrise lighting, gives the character more focus (red is a very intense color) -> gives of sense of pride

sketch-y depth of field: objects further away have a more sketch-y, drawn look -> helps with atmospheric perspective and shows that the character is an engineer. contrast with more refined foreground and character.

character pose: Kala is standing tall while also writing in his journal with a very satisfied look -> 

flowing papers in the foreground: intentionally placed to aid in the overall flow of the piece -> also enforces the idea that the character in question is very experienced + shows his hard work to get to where he is now

These are all my personal choices for the illustration based on my own experiences and intentions. But every choice, from the character pose, the value range, or whatnot was intentionally done to support the story I wanted to tell in the piece. You or another artist may have different choices given the same prompt, and that’s cool! It’s these kinds of intentional choices based on one’s own experience and emotions that make art awesome and inherently human.

Let me know if you like posts like this and I’ll do more, breaking down the process and my thinking in some of my other pieces!