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whirligig-girl · 9 months ago

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2379 March 19th

The air had a distinct chill to it by now, and Guz looked all around her as the sky took on an almost silvery cast. Gaps in the trees at the edge of the clearing acted as pinhole cameras, producing hundreds of little bright crescents onto the ground and onto the shuttlepod.

"I told you we'd be in the path of totality," Marta said, nudging Guz on the arm and pointing up at the sky. She tapped a button on her clear glass visor, and it suddenly became reflective and metallic. "Look at that. Any minute now." The Sun was now just a slim crescent, the Moon covering nearly all of it.

“Augh…” Guz said, rubbing her arms, “sorry I questioned your navigation skills.”

“Good,” Marta said.

"We have precisely three minutes and twelve seconds, by my count," Dyani said.

Guz had her telescope, a 5" catadioptric astrograph, set up on an equatorial mount, with a tunable Herschellian Wedge serving as a solar filter and heat rejection system. She was used to handholding her telescope, but with only three minutes of totality, she didn't want to take any chances. The holographic eyepiece she'd been using had dutifully captured full spectrum imagery of Sol and before the partial eclipse began she had tuned through the different visible wavelengths in the passthrough lens, allowing her, Marta, and Dyani to see prominences and filaments in Sol’s chromosphere, as well as detailed sunspots in its photosphere. Marta, having evolved around this especially hot star, could even make out the magnetically active plages in the deep-violet Calcium-K line, but Guz's eye lenses had a slight green-yellow tint which blocked far-violet, and Dyani's Vulcan eyes could barely even see blue--though she reported detail in the deep-red Hydrogen-Alpha view which astounded Marta and Guz. No matter--once the eclipse was over Guz would be able to process all of the spectral bands and find more appropriate wavelengths to display them in.

Guz was anxious, and she paced back and forth, shaking her wrists. They made an almost cartoonish literal slapping and sticking sound and she went, which was nice, because it was both tactile and auditory. She went back to the telescope, but she tripped on the tripod.

Guz emitted a gargling warbling sound which Marta was pretty sure was a mellanoid curse word, and she scrambled to fix the telescope’s alignment.

“AUGH!” she said “I messed up the polar alignment! It won’t track now…”

Marta stood up from her chair, and grabbed her canes. She walked up to Guz and put an arm on her shoulder. “Hey, Eaurp, don’t worry. The important thing isn’t the holos.”

“Actually the holos are incredibly important! I know you and Dyani are just here for fun, but I’m doing this for my Astro-251 class. I have to get these images!”

“Eaurp,” Dyani said. “It is unnecessary to fret. Professor Frederick made it clear that terrans have a long history of ‘eclipse madness’--”

“But I’m not a terran!”

“It is not a matter of the species, so much as the circumstance. As you are always so quick to remind us, Earth is the only known inhabited planet with a natural satellite that appears the same size as its parent star. The eclipses are rare and last only minutes,” Dyani said.

“Yeah girlie, you got the eclipse madness,” Marta said, “Just calm down for a minute. You’ll find a way to make up your project.”

Guz put her face in her hands, then looked up and began fiddling with her PADD to try and fix the alignment.

Guz tapped her combadge. "Cadet Guz's log, stardate 56212, continued. Terrans call it March 19th 2379. Local time is… 12:32. We are here in the Italian countryside, a minute away from totality, and I just bumped my telescope off of Sol. I have missed all three total eclipses that have occurred on Earth during my time here. This is my last year, and so my last shot. Everything has to go just right.”

“Forty seven seconds,” Dyani reported. Guz checked her chronometer. Dyani’s mental timing was ‘only’ two seconds off.

“Stop fiddling with that thing and just relax!” Marta said.

“NO! I HAVE TO SEE THE CORONA UP CLOSE!” Guz shouted, and she buried her eye into the holograph’s pass-through. “Ok! I see Sol and Luna!” Guz said. “This alignment will have to do…”

Guz watched as the last slivers of white sunlight disappeared. She looked up, and during that last moment, the entire world changed around her. She was standing in twilight, but with the sky orange all around her. She looked around. The animals were reacting wildly, with twitters and chirps and ribbiting from the local fauna, likely confused as to why the Sun went out in the middle of the day.

When Guz had first set foot on Earth, it was very literally an alien planet. But it still had blue skies, white clouds, deep blue seas, and green foliage (albeit much dryer and less sticky than she had been accustomed to).

The planet Guz was standing on right now was not Mellanus, not Italian Earth, and certainly not Luna--it was an entirely unique world, one which only existed for minutes at a time. Guz was standing on Planet Eclipse.

Guz looked up and shouted. “Hah! LOOK! LOOK AT THAT! THE CORONA!”

Nothing could have prepared her for it. The corona was a silvery halo that extended from the apparent black hole in the sky in all directions, with concentrated hairlike filaments stringing out from reddish pink spots on the black circle’s limb.

Before the eclipse, Sol had been white with a few dark specks and surrounded by darkness, but this thing was nearly its inverse: black, with a few tiny starlike dots inside of it, surrounded by a pale ghostly light. The Sun had disappeared, and something completely alien took its place. Intellectually, Guz knew that all stars--even Zwo-nmu--had coronae, but this was the first time she��d seen the corona with her own two eyes. She supposed it wouldn’t have to be the last--maybe next time she was in space she’d try to blot out the sun with her finger.

Guz could make out four starlike points, one to the left of the Sun, and three to the right. “Look! Look! There’s the other planets! The bright ones are Jupiter and Venus!”

She looked down and around again to see Marta sitting in the grass just staring up at the thing, her visor completely transparent. Dyani had taken her visor off entirely and stared, silently.

“WAIT! NO! The uh! The filter!” Guz said. She hadn’t remembered to remove the filter from her telescope. She scrambled back to the telescope, and twisted a dial on the Herschellian Wedge. The view through the passthrough eyepiece brightened up by 100,000 times and Guz actually saw the corona, magnified 50 times, in unfiltered, uncompressed detail. The detail was so delicate and intricate. Guz could now see the row of cilia-like prominences to the left, which Dyani had seen so easily before but which she and Marta had been unable to detect. In true color, Sol’s chromosphere was magenta, not the spectral red she had seen before in the H-alpha. As Guz’s eyes adjusted, she could even make out Luna’s city lights. She recognized Tycho City, and New Berlin immediately.

“Dyani, how much time do we have left?” Guz said.

After a moment, Dyani replied. “We should have another two minutes of totality left.”

Guz looked away from the eyepiece to get another look at the gaping hole in the sky where the Sun should be.

And then, in an instant, the corona disappeared entirely. A bead of intense white light bore into Guz’s retina, and she immediately flipped her visor down.

Guz’s hands shook. Then she slowly began to smile. “THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING I HAVE SEEN IN MY LIFE!” she shouted, and she began to jump up and down. Her hair went jiggly. Dyani looked at her with a blank stare, and Guz felt a little shy and stopped her celebrations. “I just can’t believe Mellanoids were robbed of this.”

“It is a remarkable celestial coincidence. The diurnal stellar eclipses visible on the T’khut-facing hemisphere of Vulcan do not capture the character of 40 Eridani A’s corona so completely, nor do they produce an atmosphere of such… eerie character.”

“Marta! Marta! Was it different to a Solar Eclipse on Luna?” Guz said, turning around.

Marta was still on the floor, rubbing her eyes, sobbing quietly to herself.

“Marta?” Guz said.

Marta reached out for a hand. Guz gave her a hand and pulled her up. Marta sniffled.

“Are you okay?” Guz said.

Marta just nodded. She didn’t look ok. Guz looked at Dyani, who just shrugged. Marta wiped her eyes again. Guz picked up Marta’s canes, and she walked back to her chair to take a seat.

Guz returned to her telescope. The herschel wedge had not been re-enabled. The holographic eyepiece was fried.

Guz stuttered a little. “Oh. Uh. Dyani. Um. There weren’t two minutes left.”

“What.”

“It was probably more like. Um. Two seconds. So the uh. The holograph is ruined.”

“Damn,” Dyani said.

“Haha. Yeah. Um. That coulda been my eye, haha…”

“Then it is fortunate you were not looking through the eyepiece at the end of totality.”

Guz checked her PADD to make sure the data was streamed properly to her recorder. When she was convinced that it was, she turned off the telescope and began packing it back up into the Class 2 Shuttlepod. By the time she finished, the sky had grown brighter; the air warmer.

When she was done, she sat down on the grass next to Marta’s chair, and put her visor back on. Luna no longer covered so much of Sol.

“It was… I don’t even know how to describe it…” Marta said. “I mean I’ve… I’ve seen solar eclipses before. And they’re beautiful from Luna, don’t get me wrong. But it’s all so different when you’re on Earth.”

“It’s a shame I won’t ever have the chance to see a solar eclipse on the Moon,” Guz said. “Well, I mean, I have seen one, it’s just, when you’re on Earth, we call it a Lunar Eclipse.”

“I’ve even seen terran eclipses before,” Marta said. “They don’t look like anything special from all the way up there. Just a little dark spot going across Earth. When I was younger, I wondered what terrans were so hyped up about, you know? But I get it.”

“And! And!” Guz said. “IT’S SO COOL! THAT YOU GET TO SEE ECLIPSES HAPPEN AT ALL ON LUNA AND VULCAN!”

“Indeed,” Dyani said, “the air temperature does drop noticeably during stellar eclipses due to the reduction in insolation. It is cool shit.”

“Omen doesn’t do that! When Omen got close to Mellanus, it was a lot like Luna--but a lot brighter. But it never goes in front of Zwo-nmu!”

“Why?” Marta said.

“It is a simple consequence of Mellanus’ coorbital trajectory,” Dyani said.

“Closest thing we get to eclipses is when Cold Ember transits Zwo-nmu and if you have really good vision you can see it with just a dark visor as a little dot.”

“I remember going out in my EV suit after finishing an early morning delivery in Oceanus Procellarum one time when I was 13,” Marta said. “The Sun hadn’t risen, but off to the east I could see this faint gray glow. I turned off my suit lights and just stared at the glow, with everything else almost black, just lit a little by the crescent Earth. The milky way was out, but this gray glow was even brighter than it. I kept watching it, even as my suit began to get freezing cold, I sat down on a little boulder a few meters from my shuttle. As I waited; it must have been almost an hour, I saw just about a quarter of a silvery circular halo. I saw a tiny hint of magenta come over the mountain in the distance, and before I knew it, the world exploded into light as the Sun came up. I had the ghost image in my eye for an hour after that. Made getting home a little harder.”

“Wow,” Guz said.

“In principle, what we have just witnessed was a sunset and a sunrise on Luna, just much farther away,” Dyani said.

“A couple years later I saw my first solar eclipse--what Terrans call a Lunar eclipse--and I realized what that ghostly glow was. But even then, I couldn’t see the corona all at once. Earth blocked half of it at a time,” Marta said. “But still I figured that the whole landscape around you turning orange-red from all of Earth’s sunrises and sunsets shining on the Moon more than made up for seeing the corona all at once.”

“Does it?” Dyani asked.

“It’s different when you’re standing out in the open without a space suit. You’re not in this temperature-controlled little box. It all feels… so much more real. The Sun shining right on my face, the air gets real chilly…”

“Is that why you were having an emotional reaction?” Dyani said.

“What? No. Not quite,” Marta said. “I dunno. Maybe. But I just realized, during totality, that that wasn’t just a big bite taken out of the Sun. That’s my home up there. I’ve seen it from space hundreds of times. But never like that.”

“Yeah…” Guz said.

“The Nevasan eclipses visible on Vulcan are similar to a Solar eclipse as viewed from Luna,” Dyani said. “Except the partial phase lasts minutes and the total phase lasts over an hour. It is essentially a brief second night time. 40 Eridani A’s corona is not visible for much of the eclipse.”

“My only other chance to see any eclipses was when I was doing survival training on Andoria, but they had us on Andoria’s far side and the one solar eclipse we would have seen due to an occultation by an outer moon, we were stuck inside the ice caves. Apparently Andorians don’t consider solar eclipses worth interrupting work for. Plus, 40 Eridani B is a white dwarf, so it’s not like its corona is actually visible. Also--you know how our shadows got weirdly sharp in the last minutes before totality? It’s like that all the time on Andoria. So at least there’s that.”

Guz looked down at the ground, then back up at the slowly brightening crescent Sun, and then at the dirt below her feet. The leaves of the trees still projected crescent-shaped images on the ground. Guz held her hair out, and bubbled it up, wondering if the green-tinted caustics cast on the ground would behave similarly.

“It was certainly one hell of an expedition to close out our senior years,” Dyani said.

“There she goes with the colorful language again,” Marta muttered.

“Perhaps you should speak up so Eaurp can hear you,” Dyani said.

They were arguing again. Guz didn’t think Dyani liked her very much, but she definitely didn’t seem to get along with Marta. “Thanks for coming out to Italy with me for this,” Guz said.

“Yeah,” Marta said. “It was… an adventure.”

“The Italian peninsula is home to many interesting historical sites. Perhaps we should visit some of them,” Dyani said. “For example, the fallen tower of Pisa.”

“Touristy nonsense, it’s just a field full of a bunch of people pretending to try to lift it back upright,” Marta said.

“I wanted to see it. Anyway we should probably start with finding any town, since our shuttlepod isn’t flying any time soon,” Guz said.

Marta gave Dyani some side-eye.

“That was not my fault,” Dyani said.

--------------

And yes, there really will be a total solar eclipse visible in Afroeurasia on March 19th, 2379 (at about 12:30 in Italy.)

Marta Martinez and Dyani were two of Guz's classmates at Starfleet Academy. In fact, Dyani was Guz's roommate. Dyani is @raydrawsdaly's OC. Marta and Guz are my OCs.

#Future Eclipse #Solar Eclipse #long post #fic #fanfic #Star Trek #Eaurp Guz #Dyani #Marta Martinez #Original Character #Original Characters #Starfleet Academy #Eclipse #Science Fiction #Slimegirl

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nolantan · 1 month ago

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Nolantan

Chapter 7: The jungle

They fly for a while

Slor is getting a bit restless “ Are we there yet?”

“ For the third time, no.” Said an annoyed Aurora.

" Hmmm oh look! Dense jungle straight ahead." Dponá points. She lands just outside of it. Dyani looks at the map “ We just need to go southeast for a bit then we’ll find the parrots.” He points in a direction and Dponá walks, Slor hops down from her back and stretches.

“ Maybe we should rest before we continue?” Jnoque suggests.

Aurora disagrees “ It’s best to get there as quickly as possible we can rest when we get there.”

“ Well one thing is for sure..” Dponá’s stomach rumbles “ I am hungry.”

“ Same.”

“ We should have asked Diana if we could have taken some food..”

Slor looks around and sees a fern with brown leaves leaving a smoky aroma. “ What’s this? It smells good?” She touches it.

Dyani notices “ Wait, don't touch that!”

Too late Slor’s fingers get a rash on them that stings “ Ow! Ow!” She scratches the rash.

Dyani grabs her hand “ Stop that will make it worse.” He looks to the others “ We need to find a dome-like mushroom. It's tan and usually grows on trees.” They nod and get looking.

“ What was that?!” Slor asks.

“ That as a falseflame fern touching the leaves will cause a stinging rash. The dew from the mushrooms will help soothe the irritation and help it heal faster.”

Jnoque brings a mushroom over “ Is this it?” He looks at it “ No, that's a shimmercap that is toxic.”

Aurora comes back with a mushroom. “ That’s it good job Aurora.” Aurora blushes a lot at the complement as Dyani takes the mushroom and dabs the dew on Slor’s fingers.

“ That feels a little better.” She holds it on her fingers.

“ You know a lot about plants.” Dponá points out “ I read a lot. We also have some of these plants at home so it’s important for us to know what can be eaten or not.” He answered. “ I can help collect food.” He offers and brings out his bag to put stuff in.

The others let Dyani do his thing as he goes around collecting and inspecting plants Aurora watches in awe as he's so smart and cool she blinks and blushes a bit before shaking her head.

Jnoque is next to Slor “ How is your finger?” “ It’s feeling better.” She sighs and looks at him. “ How have you been?” “ Good, my throat is a bit sore from that white fire though.” “ Really even with your dragon form?” He nods “ Still half human I don’t really like breathing fire much…” He goes quiet being reminded of bad memories. “ I.. haven’t been back to the human village since they kicked me out..” He looks down. “ I think I remember that day. I was with my mom in the market..” She thinks. “ If it makes you feel any better, your brother lived.” Jnoque perks up and looks at her, so does Dponá “ R-Really!” Slor nods “ I see him around the village sometimes the doctors gave him a wooden arm. I haven't really talked to him, so that’s all I know.” He hugs her “ Thank you. I’m just happy he's alive.”

Dyani comes back with lots of berries and other edible stuff. “ This is all edible, some are better cooked than others.” “ Good work Dyani!” Aurora praises. He smiles and looks at the sky “ It looks like the sun is setting. We should stop for the night, we won't be able to see much soon.”

They stop and get sticks for a fire Dyani tries to rub two sticks together then Dponá just lights it for him.

They rost some of the plants over the fire. Ignis and Solaris pop out “ The land is a lot different now.” “ Makes sense it has been two thousand years for you two.” Aurora points out.

“ It’s just so surreal for us. Last thing we all remember is turning into the Emberstar parts and sealing the Frostbite then blacking out and waking up like this.” Solaris nods in agreement.

Dyani looks at the map “ I think we’ll be getting the Phoenix Feather next.” Solaris thinks “ That should be Emberion Torrent, he was a skilled archer, really loyal too.” Ignis smiles “ Ah Emberion he was one of the first to join our group, nice guy too.” He smiles at the thought. “ Whoever gets the feather will probably have archery related powers.”

“ Oh yeah we should try to use our new powers.” Jnoque looks to Aurora. “ I guess so.” They get up. “ How do we do this?” Aurora questions. “ we’re not really sure we’ve never had to do this.” Ignis thinks “ Maybe try to focus and imagine your power working.” He shrugs

Jnoque tries to focus and summons a fire sword “ Woah?! Cool!” Dponá claps. Aurora creates a black shield around herself. “ Ooo” She touches it and tries to make it bigger but struggles to and the shield falls. Jnoque tries to summon another sword but can’t and the other one flickers out.

“ Looks like you need more practice but that was a good first attempt.” Solaris smiles. Aurora yawns, “ that was a lot of energy.” “ We should turn in for the night.

Dponá snuggles with Jnoque and the others lay down and close their eyes.

#nolantan #aurora #dyani #fawns #summer fawns #winter fawns #dponá #fantasy #fantasy world #jnoque #slor #dragons #humans #spirits

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sl-sammelsurium · 9 months ago

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Liebe Gäste und Freunde,

ich hoffe, ihr hattet alle so wie wir einen wunderbaren Abend!

Das Foto hier zeigt den Partybereich heute Morgen!

Es war wie eine Explosion, als um 19 Uhr Maibiene mit ihrem Set begann. Bereits um 18:30 Uhr hatten wir uns auf dem Gelände versammelt, und nach einigen vergnüglichen Kommentaren ging es endlich los. Die Bühne von J.A.M.M.M stand bereit, jedoch wurde die ursprüngliche Dekoration vorher noch einmal schnell überarbeitet. Unsere Eventmanagerin Dyani Resident überzeugte uns davon, dass die vorherige Sci-Fi-Deko nicht ganz passend war – und sie hatte recht. Also haben wir sie am Morgen komplett verändert und uns mehr auf Palmen und Fackeln konzentriert. Das Ergebnis war einfach besser.

Kurz vor 19 Uhr, bevor Maibiene ihr Set begann, gab es noch ein kleines technisches Problem mit der Land-Gruppe und dem Einlegen des Streams. Doch wir konnten es schnell lösen, und dann begann die Show – und was für eine Show das war! Maibiene startete mit einem knallroten Gummiboten, gefolgt von einer wunderbaren Mischung aus Erdnüssen, Kastanien, Lambada, Ibiza Sky und den Fantastischen Vier mit Sexy Ice. Die Gäste strömten auf die Tanzfläche, als kämen sie von überall her mit Bussen voller Partygäste. Die Stimmung war einfach grandios, und Maibiene heizte sie noch weiter an.

Nachfolgend, exakt um 21 Uhr wie ein schweizer Uhrwerk, erfolgte die nahtlose Übergabe des Streams von Maibiene zu J.A.M.M.M, und somit begann das Tribute-Konzert. Die beiden Vorhänge öffneten sich und präsentierten uns eine wahrlich beeindruckende Szenerie: eine professionelle und äußerst ansprechende Bühne. Amy Winehouse thronte in der Mitte, und es konnte losgehen. Ihre größten Hits erklangen, und es war einfach atemberaubend. Wir waren überaus begeistert. Das Konzert verlief bis 22:30 Uhr ohne jegliche technische Probleme.

Nach dem Konzert übernahm Mexay Drakôn den Stream und spielte einen wunderbaren Mix, der mein Herz berührte. Die Auswahl an wunderschönen Songs war einfach großartig. Zwar gab es auch hier zu Beginn kleine Probleme mit unserer Land-Gruppe, da sie zunächst nichts rezzen konnte, doch dieses Hindernis konnten wir schnell aus dem Weg räumen. Und dann begann die Aftershow-Party! Der Abend hat mich insgesamt sehr positiv gestimmt. Besonders hat es mich gefreut, dass so viele meiner Freunde dabei waren. Die Party ging bis Mitternacht und war einfach fantastisch.

Es war ein für mich unvergesslicher Abend, und ich danke jedem Einzelnen von euch, der dazu beigetragen hat, dass er so besonders wurde. Ein besonderer Dank geht auch an jeden einzelnen Gast, der mit uns gefeiert hat! Bis zum nächsten Mal!

P.S. Im Laufe des Tages werden wir eine kleine Fotocollage vom gestrigen Abend veröffentlichen. Bleibt gespannt und schaut gerne vorbei, um die Erinnerungen noch einmal Revue passieren zu lassen!

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kbstories · 6 years ago

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And with this third chapter, the fic is complete!

Only Lost The Night

Tags: Recovery, First Kiss, Fishing (non-graphic)

No additional spoilers apply.

>>Read on AO3

<<First Chapter

<<Second Chapter

The coffee comes out of the pot piping hot, quickly warming his mug and filling the morning air with its scent.

Arthur downs it in big gulps, wincing as it burns down his throat. The bad taste in his mouth is gone, though, and his queasy stomach settles with something to digest. The cold sweat he wakes up in every morning, or the tremor in his hands, well – recovery, as it turns out, is one tough son of a bitch, much more so when your alcohol supply is out of reach.

A sigh worms its way out his mouth, clouding white in front of him. There's precious little for him to do in camp – he can barely raise his left arm higher than chest height without pulling some wound or other – and most of the gang's inner workings come along well without his input.

This must be the longest Arthur's been off duty in... a while. It's disorienting, to say the least.

It doesn't help that, additionally to Miss Grimshaw's care – a duty she caries out with a gruff undertone in her voice but an indulgent glint in her eyes –, Charles has been watching him like a hawk, grumbling about his hard work going to waste otherwise.

Arthur would be the first to admit that drinking himself into a stupor a week into his mandatory bedrest was not his brightest moment. It definitely beat sitting on his ass all day long, doing fuck-all to earn his keep.

At this rate, he'll end up going to the dogs like Uncle. Isn't that a fun thought to entertain?

Even now he can feel the man's gaze on him, all the way across camp. Arthur raises his mug in the general direction of Charles's usual post, and plants himself on one of the logs surrounding the camp fire. See, I can be good, too.

A lazy salute is his meagre reward. Arthur shakes his head, only noticing the smile on his own face when he goes to light a cigarette. Drawing deep, he exhales slowly, finding himself enjoying the bite of nicotine on his tongue instead of merely going through the motions.

Maybe he can ask Hosea for one of them crime novels he's been so involved with lately. How was the author called again? Arthur flicks the excess ash to the ground, chasing the name on the tip of his tongue. Nope, gone. Never been his strongest suit, books, but Jack's seems interested too as of late, and with how things have been, the boy deserves some hero's tale or other to dream of.

… not one of Hosea's, then. God knows the kid sees enough blood and death as is.

Gaze lost in the fire and with nowhere else to go, Arthur's thoughts drift like smoke in the wind. To Jack, and how somewhere in this mess, he became Uncle Arthur to him. About that boy Kieran, so desperate for somewhere to belong it's painful to watch at times, and John, who had it all and disappeared who-knows-where all the same. Dutch and Hosea and that ever-shifting dream they keep chasing.

And yet his fingers itch for... something more, something to touch, to hold on to, like a pen or a gun or–

A genuine connection, to tether his very being to something bigger than himself. What if, Arthur thinks.

What if, what if.

He blows another puff into the sky and watches it disappear into nothingness.

“Okay. Hunting. Nothin' fancy, just a doe or two. Need practice with that bow, right? Takes a lifetime to master, an' all that–”

“No.”

“Oh for... One ride. To– to the general store in Rhodes, or, uh, to the tree line and back. A glimpse at the fields.”

Charles hitches his elbow on his knee, hand under his chin. “No”, he repeats, the low, serious timbre of his voice crumbling with veiled amusement. A searching gaze is leveled on Arthur, the kind to reveal every weakness hiding under his skin.

“Is that what it takes, Morgan? Two weeks in camp?”

“Ain't beggin' yet”, Arthur mumbles under his breath and throws Charles an unhappy look – Charles, who is currently sitting cross-legged on his saddle stand, confident as a king and entitled like one, too. Behind him, Dyani sniffs Charles's hair and pushes it around with her nose, rubbing his shoulder in the process.

It took Arthur weeks of constant work (and treats) to get the hang of the Andalusian's fickle temper and here they are, chummy like old friends. Traitors, the lot of them. Arthur's shoulders slump in defeat.

“Fine, have it your way.”

The statement isn't immediately followed by action, however. The mere thought of wasting more hours walking a line into the dirt, watching people come and go and feeling their sympathetic eyes on him is revolting to an almost physical degree. Arthur stares at his cot, just a few feet away, and can't bring himself to move.

“Arthur.”

Just his name, without pity. He closes his eyes and rubs his neck, staring at his boots as he struggles to find the right words.

“Just feelin' useless, is all. Can't do nothin' for weeks now an' with the O'Driscolls and whoever else breathin' down our necks... Ain't the man I am, Charles. To sit around an' wait for things to happen.”

A rustle of movement makes him glance up. Charles hops to his feet, easy as anything, and Arthur barely registers he's throwing something until he's grabbed it. A fishing rod? Arthur tilts his head with a frown.

“But you–”

“Teach me”, Charles says simply, and all Arthur can do is shut his mouth and nod, trying (and failing) to ignore how warm his chest feels.

Little by little, the smooth lines of graphite connect, fill in blank space, spill over the shadowed fold between the pages and beyond.

The gentle rocking of the boat, the rhythmic lapping of water against lacquered wood, the sting of a wound, still healing – it all fades into the background, there but muted as his attention is bracketed by the edges of his journal.

With the sun warming his back, Arthur draws.

In front of him sits Charles, leaning back just as he is, feet propped up against the boat's curved hull. Rod and line in place, his eyes are alert and search the surface of the lake for any movement, the very picture of endless patience. The breeze plays with a loose strand of his hair before he reaches up and tucks it away.

Charles fishes, and Arthur draws... him.

(Arthur's sketch of Charles by @ISpitznagel)

His shoulder doesn't allow him to sit as he usually does, legs folded close to his chest and journal balanced on his knees, angled away so nobody can see what he's working on. The members of the gang quickly learned that whoever tries is more likely to catch a fist to the jaw than a glimpse at his sketches. What is to others a collection of landscapes and animals and the odd person, to Arthur, well...

Things in his life don't have the best relationship with permanence, as it were. He'd rather commit what he can to paper before they inevitably disappear too.

Charles asks later, “What do you think of when you draw?”, when the light has grown too weak to keep going and Arthur reached for his pack of cigs to occupy his hands instead. Arthur, who drew in his lap instead of on his knees and knows that Charles saw.

He finds he doesn't mind one bit.

“Depends”, he mutters, stretching his legs out as far as the narrow boat allows, bumping against Charles's hip. “Sometimes nothin', sometimes somethin' I can't put words to just yet. Just keepin' track of things, in my own way. Makes 'em less unfathomable, if I may borrow one of them fancy terms.”

Charles snorts, “You may”, his grin there and gone in a flash. He's set aside the fishing rod – with the bucket they brought along filled to the brim with fish, there wouldn't be anywhere to put them anyways –, merely watching Arthur smoke now.

“Never was much the artistic type, myself. Looks all a bit like magic to me.”

Arthur grins back, offering him a cig of his own. Charles shrugs and takes one out of the box, leaning close to the match Arthur lights for him; his face is momentarily lit by its flaring tip, his eyes reflecting the embers' glow.

Their fingers brush and Arthur hums, exhales another smoke-filled breath into the night sky.

“Well I'd show you how, Charles, but if you take to it as quickly as fishin', what unique skills would that leave me with?”

Charles shrugs. “I can think of some”, he counters easily, another step in this dance of theirs that they slip into on nights like these. Teasing words wrapped around tender spots and soft-spoken secrets. Arthur takes the compliment for what it is, shaking his head fondly.

They smoke. Arthur tells Charles of the time he went fishing with Jack, months ago now; how hard it had been for the kid to focus on the fish, and less so on picking flowers.

“Seems the creative sort, you know? Better to let 'em make things. Kid's too young for all this crap we keep puttin' him through.”

“Does Marston know, though?” Charles sighs. “Some days it seems to me like you're more of a father to that boy than he is.”

Arthur frowns, rubs at his chest and that dull ache that, years later, is still there.

“Well, in some ways... Can't up and leave for a year an' expect things to remain the same, I guess. But John cares, or at least I think he does.” A pause. “'cause that's the thing, ain't it? Dutch taught us to give a shit 'bout family an' whatnot but, John an' I, we ain't got the same charisma he does. 's one of those things that's easier said than done.”

For a while, Charles says nothing. Just sits and smokes, looking into the distance. Turning some thought or other in his head, Arthur assumes. Eventually: “Guess you're right. Just doesn't feel good, seeing a kid on the run. Too much of that, as of late.”

“Ain't that the truth”, Arthur nods, righting himself to shake off some of the somber mood weighing on his shoulders. Smirking, he nudges Charles's knee with his own. “Just glad he stuck by that when them O'Driscolls got me. Didn't know I was even worthy of the best damn rescue squad we got.”

Charles's eyes snap to his then, narrowing a fraction. “Huh?”

“Dutch, I mean. An' you.”

“Oh.” That peculiar expression vanishes, Charles's face all-too-neutral. “Guess so”, he repeats, and Arthur draws back a little.

“Did I, uh–“ Glancing down, Arthur fiddles with the burned-out stub, staining his fingers with ash. “Didn't mean no offense, Charles. Been complainin' a lot but I wouldn't be here at all without you. Just wanted to let you know, 'm takin' none of that for granted.”

Suddenly Charles's hand is there, giving Arthur's a gentle squeeze. “Hey. That's not what I meant. Was just somewhere else, there.”

Automatically, Arthur squeezes back.

“Point still stands. Thank you.”

A quiet chuckle reels him back in, as it always does these days, “I'd do it again in a heartbeat, you know that”, and Arthur can't not look up at those words, searching his expression for– What, exactly?

What if, what if. The distance is gone, Charles's gaze warming further as Arthur's thumb brushes over the scarred back of his hand, feeling the calm rhythm of his pulse against his.

“What are we doing, Charles?”

The question is soft, said without any idea where it's headed: a road untraveled, missing from every map yet waiting to be explored.

Charles blinks, taken off guard. He opens his mouth, hesitates, admits, “Whatever you want us to”, sounding just as vulnerable as Arthur feels.

A split-second decision: Arthur tugs, Charles follows, catching himself against the boat. “Arthur”, he whispers, close enough Arthur can feel his breath on his face.

Arthur rasps, “Tell me to stop”, but Charles never does; he leans in, interlacing their fingers in the same moment their lips meet, tentatively – Arthur's eyes flutter shut, his fingers find the collar of Charles's shirt blindly, pull him ever-closer as he melts into it.

They barely part between one kiss and the next; Arthur murmurs Charles's name with the little breath he can catch, and “Fuck”, as Charles's tongue pushes into his mouth and he tastes smoke. His blood sings, throbbing in his veins in a dizzying rush, all the more prominent when Charles's thigh slides between his, caging him in–

The white-hot flash of pain comes so unexpected Arthur gasps, twisting his shoulder away from the pressure. Charles flinches, leans back, “Shit, sorry”, he pants out, mouth spit-slick and eyes wide.

Arthur can barely hear it over how loud his heart is, drumming away in his chest– “'m okay”, he says because Charles looks like he needs to hear it, but he doesn't let go, not yet.

“Come back. Please?”

Charles sways like he's drunk, nods – presses his forehead against Arthur's, noses brushing, but his tone is cautious, now. “We– This is not wise. You need time to heal.”

Arthur laughs, more than a little husky. “Do I look like I care about wise right now? Fuck, Charles.”

Charles's voice isn't faring much better; he hums a low “mmhm” before he kisses Arthur again, fleetingly. “Fuck me, indeed. I swear I had pure intentions with this.”

“You hate fishing. Dunno why you tried to convince me otherwise.”

“... I do, sorry.”

They share a smile, and Arthur shakes his head, tracing the curve of Charles's lips with his thumb.

“I don't mind. I prefer the alternative, too.”

>>Read on AO3

#red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan #charles smith #charthur #rdr fanfiction #fuckin......... finally #i'll probably write smut next lmao it's been a while #but these boys desperately need to 👏🏽 get 👏🏽 it 👏🏽#pls rb to feed your local fanfic writer!#my stuff #RDR

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ofparrish · 7 years ago

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- ̗̀☾ wiccan / pagan names ̖́-

so i was actually looking for some wiccan names and was getting a hard time trying to find some that i actually liked enough to use, and when i searched through tumblr i really couldn’t see much ?? plus it’s almost the best time of the year — aka halloween my dear spoopy friends — so why not !!!!!!! under the cut you’ll find a list of wiccan/pagan names you could use for witchy purposes. they are sorted by female, male and unisex, but they’re definitely not restricted by those labels. please like and/or reblog if you found this useful in anyway, and most importantly, enjoy!

female:

adamina (of the red earth)

adalia (noble one) 

adara (beauty) 

adonia (beautiful) 

adora (beloved) 

airlia (ethereal)

alaine (dear child) 

alaura (laurel) 

alena (bright one) 

alida (small winged one)

amadore (gift of love) 

amara (immortal, steadfast) 

amarande (immortal) 

amaris (child of the moon) 

amber (jewel) 

ambra (jewel) 

angeni (spirit) 

apollina (gift from apollo) 

aquene (peace) 

aradia: (a character from the “gospel of the witches” book)

ariadne (greek goddess of fertility; most holy)

autumn (season)

azura (clear blue sky) 

bonamy (good friend) 

brynn (hill)

callia (beautiful) 

calliope (beautiful voice) 

cameo (skin; pinkish stone) 

caterina (pure)

catriona (pure) 

ceridwen (the celtic goddess of poetry; beautiful as a poem)

chantal (stony, song + my actual name so it’s always a bonus asgfk)

charis (charity) 

chenoa (dove) 

creissant (to create) 

cressida (gold) 

dabria (an angel) 

dakota (friend) 

damara (gentle) 

daralis (beloved) 

deheune (divine one) 

divone (divine one) 

dyani (deer) 

ebony (dark beauty) 

edana (passionate) 

eleta (chosen) 

ena (fiery; passionate) 

enid (spirit) 

enola (solitary) 

ermin (universal; whole) 

esme (kind defender) 

ethne (fire) 

fanchone (free) 

faye (fairy) 

filia (friendship) 

gaia (mythological goddess of earth)

galatea (pygmalion’s inspiration behind “my fair lady”)

gavenia (white hawk) 

gemma (jewel) 

glenys — or glennis, glynis (someone living in a glen)

grainne (love) 

halcyone (tranquility)

iris (goddess of the rainbow)

jacy (the moon) 

javan (angel of greece)

kassia (pure) 

kendra (prophetess) 

kimi (secret) 

ladonna (lady) 

leala (loyal one) 

lena (light) 

lona (solitary one) 

lorna (alone; solitude + personal favorite, and actual character from over the garden wall) 

lucia (light) 

lucretia (brings light) 

mai (coyote)

maida (maiden) 

meda (priestess) 

natane (daughter) 

nenet (goddess of the deep) 

neona (new moon) 

niamh (bright) 

nimue (memory)

nokomis (daughter of the moon) 

obelia (pillar of strength) 

olathe (beautiful) 

orela (announcement from the gods) 

orenda (magic power) 

orianna (golden; dawn) 

oriel (golden; angel of destiny) 

panthea (of all the gods) 

panya (crowned with laurel) 

persephone (goddess of the underworld)

philana (lover of mankind) 

philomena (lover of the moon) 

rain (self explanatory)

raissa (thinker) 

raven (self explanatory)

roisin (little rose)

rowena (slender and fair + a tiny harry potter reference, too)

sage (prophet; aromatic plant used for cleansing) 

soleil (sun)

solita (alone; solitude) 

tania (fairy queen) 

terentia (gaurdian) 

thadea (courageous) 

thalia (to blossom)

topaz (gem)

vala (chosen) 

verena (defender)

wind (self explanatory)

willow (a tree that is believed to possess magical powers)

male:

acelin (noble)

adonis (manly beauty)

alastair (defender of mankind)

albus (white + very cool for potterheads)

altair (star)

angus (special; unique)

athan (immortal)

balder (god of light)

bardo (son of the earth)

bedwyr (knower of the grave)

brencis (crowned with laurel)

cadmun (warrior)

caedmon (wise warrior)

caradoc (dearly loved)

castor (a twin from the gemini constellation)

caton (knowledgable, wise)

cedric (bounty)

delano (of the night)

desmond (a knowledgeable man)

dimitri (lover of the earth)

einar (warrior; leader)

eoin (young warrior)

evander (good man)

fergus (strong and manly)

gawain (defender of the weak)

gunnar (bold warrior)

herne (hunter god of forest and vegetation)

kaspar (a treasured secret)

keene (wise)

koen (honest counselor)

laramie (tears of love)

lars (laurel crowned)

leaf (self explanatory)

leif (beloved)

llyr (celtic god of the sea)

lucian (man of light)

lysander (liberator)

maddock (generous)

neptune (god of the sea)

oberon (noble)

panas (immortal)

percival (one who pierces the valley)

pilan (supreme essence)

pollux (a twin from the gemini constellation)

rainer (counselor)

rune (secret)

tierney (lord)

zelig (the blessed one)

unisex:

adair (oak tree)

aidan (fire)

bevin (old soldier)

blair (child of the field)

cyrus (young lord)

devin (divine)

kieran — or keary (little dark one)

lark (a song bird)

morgan (lives by the sea)

phoenix (deep red)

quinn (wise)

river (self explanatory)

rowan (little red one, tree)

#name masterlist #names masterlist #masterlist #wiccan names #rph #rpt #rpc #wicca #name help #it took me .................. a while #m proud bros

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flauntpage · 6 years ago

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TOP V FROM EXPO CHICAGO

Welcome to this week’s Top V from EXPO CHICAGO at Navy Pier. Also, don’t forget to check out this week’s Top V for a selection of provocative programs being exhibited in spaces both large and small around Chicago this weekend.

1. SAPAR Contemporary

Booth #147 Work by: Phoebe Boswell

2. Mendes Wood DM

Booth #336 Work by: Paulo Nazareth

3. Martos Gallery

Booth #132 Work by: Jessica Vaughn

4. Bockley Gallery

Booth #173 Work by: Julie Buffalohead*, Andrea Carlson, Jim Denomie, Pao Houa Her, Sky Hopinka, Postcommodity, Cara Romero, and Dyani White Hawk

5. Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC)

Booth #423 Work by: Brandon Ballengée

Hey Chicago, submit your events to the Visualist here: http://www.thevisualist.org.

EDITION #36 – Minnesota Nice

TOP V.2 FROM EXPO CHICAGO

EDITION #28

Political Attack Ad season is here…

“The Object of Nostalgia” at CAA and Columbia College A+D Gallery

TOP V FROM EXPO CHICAGO published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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micaramel · 7 years ago

Link

Artists: Gina Adams, Carmen Argote, Natalie Ball, Margarita Cabrera, Juan William Chávez, William Cordova, Rafa Esparza, Nancy Friedemann-Sánchez, Guillermo Galindo, Jeffrey Gibson, Sky Hopinka, Donna Huanca, Truman Lowe, Ivan LOZANO, Cannupa Hanska Luger, Salvador Jiménez-Flores, Nicholas Galanin & Merritt Johnson, Rodolfo Marron III, Harold Mendez, Mark Menjivar, Ronny Quevedo, Wendy Red Star, Gonzalo Reyes Rodriguez, Josh Rios & Anthony Romero, Guadalupe Rosales, Carlos Rosales-Silva, Sarah Rowe, Edra Soto, Francisco Souto, Marty Two Bulls Jr., Rodrigo Valenzuela, Mary Valverde, Dyani White Hawk, Nathan Young, Sarah Zapata

Venue: Bemis Center, Omaha

Exhibition Title: Monarchs: Brown and Native Contemporary Artists in the Path of the Butterfly

Curated by: Risa Puleo

Date: December 7, 2017 – February 24, 2018

Click here to view slideshow

Sky Hopinka, excerpt of Jáaji Approx., 2015, video, 7 min 36 sec

Full gallery of images, video, press release and link available after the jump.

Images:

Video:

Sky Hopinka, excerpt of I’ll Remember You as You Were, not as What You’ll Become, 2016, HD Video, 12 min, 32 sec

Sky Hopinka, excerpt of wawa, 2014, HD Video, 6 min

Donna Huanca, Dressing the Queen, 2009-2010, video, silent, 11 min, 33 sec

Merritt Johnson and Nicholas Galanin, Exorcising America: Survival Exercises, 2017, Single channel performance video, 8 min, 25 sec

Gonzalo Reyes Rodriguez, excerpt of Contrapoder #1, 2017, Multi Channel Video; 9 min 35 sec

Jeffrey Gibson, Like A Hammer, 2016, HD Video, 6 min, 31 sec

Images and video courtesy of the artists and Bemis Center, Omaha. Photos by Colin Conces.

Press Release:

Monarchs: Brown and Native Contemporary Artists in the Path of the Butterfly takes the migration path of the Monarch butterfly, as a geographic range and a metaphor. The butterfly crosses the border of the United States at its junctions with Canada at the north and Mexico in the south along the entire length of both of these conceptual divides. Bypassing the hotter, desert regions of the country, Monarchs flock along its western and eastern coastal edges, but the busiest path of the orange-and-black butterfly is through the center of the United States. The Monarch travels through Midwestern states of Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Illinois, across the Great Plains of Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma, onwards through the Texas Hill Country all the way to the state of Michoacan in Mexico. The path of the butterfly also connects the site of the Dakota Access Pipeline where it crosses the Missouri River at the border of the Standing Rock nation to the U.S.-Mexico border, but the butterfly itself is indifferent to these artificial borders and conceptual divisions.

The exhibition Monarchs sees the defense of Standing Rock and the threat to build a border wall as continuous issues that pose challenges to people native to the Americas who have been separated by conceptual categories of indigenous, immigrant, and assimilated. Like the butterfly, which takes four generations to make the complete migratory path navigating its way through the center of the United States by drawing from inherited knowledge, these artists also pull from ancestral and cultural memory to reveal the deep conceptual legacies underpinning abstraction, reorient historical and art historical narratives, and explore centuries-old trade routes that moved aesthetics in addition to goods. Monarchs considers how objects, still and moving images, sound, and performances made by artists living in the path of the butterfly reveal their identities through form, process, and materiality rather than through content. To create the exhibition, Bemis Curator-in-Residence Risa Puleo looked to the butterfly for inspiration for the exhibition’s primary themes:

Migrations: The length of the Monarch’s migratory path is over 3,000 miles long, and unlike any other butterfly, the Monarch makes this path twice. The butterflies cross two international borders and dozens of states. Rodrigo Valenzuela explores the landscape of migration along the U.S.-Mexico border while Sky Hopinka, Francisco Souto, and Wendy Red Star employ road trips as their means of moving across the United States. Other types of movement including immigration to displacement, itinerancy, nomadism, and also the condition of being immobilized are explored by William Cordova, Gonzalo Reyes Rodriguez, Marty Two Bulls Jr., and Cannupa Hanska Luger. Nancy Friedemann-Sánchez and Harold Mendez examine how objects were moved across centuries-old trade routes, bringing aesthetics and styles with them across vast expanses of space.

Inheritance: No one butterfly completes the trek from the U.S.-Canada border across the U.S. to the butterfly forests of Michoacán, where individual butterflies often return to the same Oyamel Fir tree as their ancestors. They do so by drawing from knowledge inherited from butterflies who forged the path before them. Artists in Monarchs also pull from ancestral and cultural memory speaking to an inherited means of production and genealogy of form. Truman Lowe transforms the basket weaving techniques taught to him by his parents while Margarita Cabrera learned the craft of copper hammering of Santa Clara del Cobre, a town in Michoacán. Ronny Quevedo, Rafa Esparza, and Carlos Rosales-Silva incorporate building materials such as drywall, adobe, and plaster respectively into their paintings as an homage to constructing buildings and working-class labor.

Transformation: Over the course of its life, the Monarch butterfly takes on radically different forms, transforming from egg to caterpillar, chrysalis, and, finally, butterfly. Artists like Jeffery Gibson, Mary Valverde, Donna Huanca, and Ivan LOZANO explore how costume and textiles join forces with performance to form the basis of sacred ritual and ceremony that provide passageways to the spiritual.

Monarchs: Brown and Native Contemporary Artists in the Path of the Butterfly is curated by Risa Puleo, 2017 Bemis Center Curator-in-Residence.

The Curator-in-Residence program’s inaugural year is made possible by Carol Gendler and the Mammel Foundation. Additional support is provided by the National Endowment for the Arts and The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts.

Link: “Monarchs” at Bemis Center

Contemporary Art Daily is produced by Contemporary Art Group, a not-for-profit organization. We rely on our audience to help fund the publication of exhibitions that show up in this RSS feed. Please consider supporting us by making a donation today.

from Contemporary Art Daily http://bit.ly/2E41zG4

#micaramel

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usuallysuperyouth · 7 years ago

Video

🎷 Abdullah Ibrahim & Johnny Dyani - Saud (Dedicated to McCoy Tyner) - 1979 'Alternate Take' 🎷

🎷 ENG 🎷 Saud 'Alternate Take' is a song of extraordinary beauty, able to lift into the sky a sort of intense quivering prayer, almost a hymn to the Lord, whatever it is the religion that each of us has in his heart.

In its intensity tends towards the peaks touched by John Coltrane's 'A Love Supreme', whose size and height remain inaccessible, maybe forever and for everyone.

Abdullah Ibrahim (piano) and Johnny Dyani (bass) performed this tune during the recording of the album 'Echoes from Africa' (Enja-1979).

For the album was chosen a different version (slightly longer than that presented here); this became the 'original' version, but - in my opinion - does not possess the spirituality that I feel in 'Alternate Take' proposal, which was published only in 1993 on the CD '1972 to 1992 Enja Story: Twenty Years in Modern Jazz'.

🎷 ITA 🎷 Saud "Alternate Take" è un brano di straordinaria bellezza, in grado di sollevare verso il cielo una sorta di fremente preghiera, quasi un inno al Signore, qualunque sia la religione che ognuno di noi custodisce nel suo cuore.

Nella sua intensità lo sento tendere verso i picchi toccati dal capolavoro di John Coltrane "A Love Supreme", le cui dimensioni e la cui altezza rimangono comunque irraggiungibili, forse per sempre e per chiunque.

⭐ Abdullah Ibrahim è un grande pianista e compositore jazz (in realtà suona anche il sassofono, i flauti e il violoncello). È nato Cape Town (Sudafrica) il 9 ottobre 1934 ed è forse la massima espressione jazzistica africana. Il suo vero nome è Adolph Johannes Brand, ma è stato conosciuto con lo pseudonimo di Dollar Brand sino al 1968, quando - convertitosi all'Islam - assume il nome di Abdullah Ibrahim.

Il suono del suo piano risente dell'influenza di Thelonious Monk e di Duke Ellington. Ma oltre al jazz e ai suoni della tradizione africana, la musica di Abdullah Ibrahim risente della grande religiosità che ha sempre accompagnato la sua vita e del profondo legame con la cultura orientale, oggetto dei suoi studi giovanili. Oltre ad aver pubblicato - a partire dagli anni '60 - una grande quantità di lavori, ad aver scritto la colonna sonora del film Chocolat di Claire Denis, Abdullah Ibrahim ha suonato e collaborato con gli uomini che hanno scritto la storia del jazz nel mondo: Duke Ellington, John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman, Billy Strayhorn, Archie Sheep, Max Roach, Elvin Jones, Don Cherry, Gato Barbieri, etc.

⭐ Johnny "Mbizo" Dyani è nato il 30 novembre 1945 in East London (Sudafrica) in una famiglia di musicisti ed ha cominciato a suonare come pianista ed a cantare in coro. A 13 anni ha iniziato a suonare il basso.

Nel 1973 ha dato avvio ad una partnership con il pianista Abdullah Ibrahim, durata vari anni, durante i quali hanno registrato insieme alcuni album molto interessanti.

Dopo una carriera ricca di successi, è morto improvvisamente nel 1986 dopo una esibizione in Berlino.

Nel 1979 la collaborazione fra Abdullah Ibrahim e Johnny Dyani ha toccato il culmine con il capolavoro "Echoes from Africa" (Enja), che rappresenta una prestazione veramente straordinaria.

In Saud (dedicated to McCoy Tyner) la dedica è doppia: il famoso pianista McCoy Tyner (pianista del celeberrimo quartetto di John Coltrane) ne è il destinatario, in quanto protagonista del mondo jazz, ma anche in quanto musulmano, come Abdullah Ibrahim.

🎷 Subscribe here:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIYLF26Pq46QNWEaVgr1iNA?sub_confirmation=1

➽ Watch ‘Musical Emotions: Jazz & Blues’:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9PT5CI88Yw&list=PLnD0ArA_BGHuWrPTZf_D0mOuNS5JAFWAT&index=1

➽ Watch ‘JAZZ LIVE in ITALY’:

https://youtu.be/RhqAtUnm-LY?list=PLnD0ArA_BGHsTrUjjCYb6nN9dFesvT9Fh

dJ>�2�/

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nolantan · 4 months ago

Text

Nolantan

Chapter 2 The Human Village

Dyani and Aurora have been walking for a few days it was almost sunset when they arrive at a village next to a lake connected to a river Dyani reads the map " This should be the Human Village we can rest here before we get to the mountain behind it" Aroura sighs "Humans..." if there was one thing that both Winter and Summer Fawns could agree on is to be wary of humans so much that on the rare occasions they would team up agents them.

Aurora hides in her hoodie and Dyani hides in his hair and they walk in carefully people are out and about doing their daily stuff.

They walk then suddenly a blue-haired girl wearing a white and red jumpsuit falls landing on Aurora dropping her hoodie.

"ow!" Aurora yelps.

The girl rubs her head and looks at her " Oh I'm sorry!" she scoots off of her "You ok?" Aurora stands up and quickly hides in her hoodie again "Yeah..." " I'm Slor" " I'm Dyani and that's Aurora" he replies

Once Slor gets a good look at them she is confused "What are you?" she goes to stand up but then falls as she feels pain in her leg " Are you ok?" Dyani asks concerned and trying to change the subject.

" what were you even doing?"

Slor nods " Yes I'm fine I'm good at falling. I was practicing a stunt I wanted to do." She stands up but her leg hurts and she has to sit back down “Ow…”

"I thought you said you were good at falling."

"I am! Just not the landing part…"

"do you need help getting to a medical area?"

“ No I’m fine I can get there myself” She tries to walk but falls.

"yeah, we’re helping you."

They take Slor over to a medical building and a green-haired boy and a purple-haired girl come out.

They both sigh.

Slor looks nervous " H-Hey, Liam Mythias..."

Liam huffs " Again..." and takes her inside as she has a nervous smile.

Mythias looks at the kids “Thank you for taking her here who knows how long it would take her to come anyways” “This is normal?” Dyani asks.

“ Yeah, she’s a stubborn one who wants to do one thing and won’t take no for an answer.”

“We are looking for a place to stay for the night.”

“ Hm oh, there’s an inn not too far from here let me take you there.”

Mythias leads them to the inn and helps them get a room.

They thank her and go into a room.

It was a small room with two beds and a window showing the night sky.

Aurora flops on a bed face first and Dyani just sits on the other one “ I’ve never been this far from home before” Aurora moves her head to look at him “Honestly me either.. I’m not used to all this heat” she lays on her back and holds the crystal necklace “ what is that for” “ it’s a cold absorbing crystal every Winter Fawn get one the moment they are born basically they make it so we can live in the cold..” her thoughts wander off to something else and she gets sad but shakes it off.

"Knowing my mom she's probably going to send some guards to come find me.." Dyani noted. Aurora sighs " Don't get me wrong I love my mom but she can be really overprotective I don't really blame her tho my dad was killed by Winter Fawn before I was born..." " Oh...I'm sorry."

" Don't be it wasn't you who did it.."

The next day they wake up to Slor climbing in through the window.

" What th!-" "Hey time to get up! we've got shopping to do!" Dyani is groggy and confused. “ You helped me now I want to help you!” Slor drags them out of bed.

“ Hey, we don’t need help.” “ Do you have money to pay for anything?” Both Fawns go quiet.

“ Exactly I’m helping you.” she helps them pay for their room then takes them to a cafe.

“ Ian some of your famous breakfast please!”

They see a tan person at the corner with green hair and green eyes “Coming right up Slor” They sit at a table after a few minutes Ian comes out with three plates that have a combination of pancakes and waffles on them.

“ These are Ian’s famous Panfles they are the best thing ever!” Slor says excitedly already eating hers.

Aurora is hesitant but after seeing Dyani bite into his and makes an in awe face and eats the rest she decides to try it.

She ate a bite.

And it’s amazing.

It’s a warm, buttery sweetness with a crispiness, blending the best of both pancakes and waffles. The batter is rich, fluffier, and hints of vanilla. The crispy edges create a crunchy exterior, while the tender, fluffy inside melts into a soft, buttery middle.

Once they eat it all Slor pays for the food and they go to the market. They look at supplies and food.

While looking at the fruit stands they come across a pale brown-haired man and a kid in a wolf hoodie that looks way too big for her

" What do demons eat...?" The man mumbles.

"Hi, Lucas!" Slor waves at him

Lucas jumps and hides the child behind him " H-Hi Slor! Sorry I didn't see you there"

" It's fine anyway who's that behind you?"

" Oh..um...she's my friend's kid I'm just...babysitting for them for a while..."

They chat while the child pecks out looks at Dyani and Aurora and goes over to them.

She looks at them amazed "Your Fawn." she smiles.

" Um... no."

"Yeah, you are I can tell because of your noses."

"Well keep it down..." Dyani hushes her.

"You worried about the humans? I am too but this one is nice." She quickly shows them her tail and horns but one is broken before hiding again. " I'm Balor."

"Oh I've heard of your kind demon right?"

Balor nods as Aurora is getting confused.

Lucas quickly goes to Balor and leaves with her waving to the kids.

While finishing shopping a child with blue hair and a horn on her head in overalls comes up to them Slor gets really nervous.

" umm, can we help you??"

"I want that!" she points to the star clip that's on Aurora's head.

"No, it's mine!" Aurora snapped.

"W-we should go..." Slor urges.

"I want it!" she stomps her foot.

Aurora is getting annoyed fast " No!"

"No means no kid sorry." Dyani chims in.

Not satisfied with that answer she starts staring at them her swirl eyes start to spin creating a hypnotic feeling.

Dyani’s eyes turn into hers and he falls into a trance but Aurora doesn’t and is confused as unknown to her the star is glowing protecting her Slor is looking away terrified.

Angry that Aurora isn’t affected she orders Dyani to grab the star

" Yes, Dina," Dyani answered robotically. He reaches for the star " Dyani what are you doing!" yells Aurora trying to fend him off and they get exposed in front of everyone Aurora ends up poking Dyani in the eye and that gets him out of the trance.

"Ow! ...Wha..?"

" W-What are those!"

"Don't get close! They could be dangerous!"

" Hey, freaks get out of here!"

The people are starting to get scared and want them out of the village.

Dina giggles and runs off.

Aurora is mad and tries to go after her but the townspeople surround them.

Dyani gets scared and hides behind Aurora.

The people keep getting closer.

Then suddenly Slor grabs the two and runs off with them.

They run out of the village and hide.

“That was a close one…” Dyani pants “Why did you help us you are a human too..” Aurora questions Slor.

“ Simple you helped me now I want to help you too and go with you.”

“ We need to get to the top of that mountain.”

“ Why?”

Aurora sighed “ We’ll explain on the way.”

Slor nods as they get going.

#Nolantan #my story #original story #fantasy #fantasy world #Humans #Fawns #Summer Fawns #Winter Fawns #Aurora #Dyani #Slor #Liam #Mythias #Lucas #Balor #Demon #tw brainwashing #Dina #Ian

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kbstories · 6 years ago

Text

Here’s the promised update to my Charles/Arthur (Charthur?) fic:

Only Lost The Night

Tags: Angst, Blood and Injury, Aftermath of Torture, Slow Burn

Major spoilers for Chapter 3, specifically the mission “Blessed Are the Peacemakers”.

>>Read on AO3

<<First Chapter

Three days.

Patrolling the edge of the woods, Charles' gaze turns northward, and not for the first time.

Three days ago, he stood guard at the very same spot, raising a hand in silent farewell to the group of three leaving camp: Dutch, easily recognizable by his snow-white Horse and booming voice; Micah, bowed low, handling the reins with too-rough hands; and Arthur, caught between the two and shoulders visibly tense, even from afar...

A glance of striking blue filled with concern and a grim nod, that's all Charles got before Arthur's brown mare had galloped past and they were out of sight. Hours later, the rumors of a possible truce between them and the O'Driscolls finally reached him, and when Charles' eyes met Javier's over the dwindling firelight, he only saw his own worry reflected.

This is a mistake.

The words went unsaid, as they often did as of late. Instead, Charles tossed and turned in his cot, and paced the perimeter for three days–

In the dead of night, only two had returned – and Charles gave up on sleep altogether.

“Dutch.”

Calm, collected, neutral. Charles' indifferent mask can be nigh-impossible to read if he wants to – Arthur has teased him about it countless times, ya ain't foolin' me, though, smile bright and usually weary eyes glinting with quiet pleasure – and yet, Dutch's jaw instantly clenches with annoyance.

“Not now, Mr. Smith”, he says, dismisses him with a pointed look, but Charles doesn't budge. He's faced down raging bison, snarling wolves, storms and blizzards and a dizzying variety of human cruelty only those remaining of his people could attest to; nothing Dutch van der Linde could throw at him could be worse, short of death, and maybe not even that.

Then again, something tells him Dutch knows that, too.

“I volunteer–“

“–for more patrols, yes, if you feel like running yourself ragged, be my guest, Mr.–“

“–to lead a search party”, Charles finishes icily, hands linking behind his back to hide how they clench to fists. “I'm the best tracker we have. And Arthur's horse is too well-bred to be worth shooting. She'll lead us right to them.”

Dutch's expression hasn't moved a single inch from the aloof-slash-assertive air he surrounds himself with, and his voice is too forcibly amicable to be anything but. He steps closer, placing a firm hand on Charles' shoulder.

“My dear Charles, I'm afraid you have jumped to conclusions. Yes, things got a bit heated – but Arthur knows what he's doing. He'll rejoin us when the dust has settled. Until then, I can assure you: He is safe.”

“Dutch...”

Fingers dig deeper, hard enough to hurt. The understanding smile on Dutch's lips turns forced.

“Enough, Charles. You have been with us a while now and put in commendable work. Arthur is a dear friend to you, so I'll let it pass this once. Don't make me regret it.”

Charles holds his gaze for a moment longer, nods, submits.

“Understood.”

Night falls, and Charles pulls himself silently into the saddle, leading Taima through the woods and out into the open with the silent presence of the moon as his only companion.

The rising sun casts dewy clarity over the planes lying ahead. Charles takes a deep breath, allowing himself a brief respite. The provisions he chews on go down without taste, merely fuel to keep his gears in motion for the difficult track ahead.

His mind doesn't, can't, rest. Not yet.

It's impossible not to be aware that Arthur has been gone half a week, now – and yes, maybe he is laying low and unharmed but Charles' gut feeling says otherwise, and in the long years he spent on his lonesome, his gut has never failed him.

Below him, Taima – finnicky at first from the rude awakening at an unusual time – finds a confident pace she can keep up for hours, exhaling in short bursts with every step. Charles rubs her favorite spot high on the crest of her mane.

With enough effort, he could convince himself this is just another hunt.

That's the thing about not being alone, though: Once you let people close, their presence grows familiar, and it is easy to forget how life was without them.

Charles scoffs. Right. There is no need to pretend this – his current predicament, the last three, no, four days, the past year – is a people-thing. Because it's not.

Keeping Dutch's gang at arm's length, not letting himself get too attached... It wasn't such a struggle until he started noticing how gentle Arthur handles new horses, even the skittish ones; how hands so adept at killing become nimble, almost graceful, provided little more than a pen and some scraps of paper; how the tension around his eyes eases with the first draw from a freshly-lit cigarette.

No. This is definitely an Arthur-thing, and Charles is powerless to stop it.

It was after the run-in with those bounty hunters weeks ago that Charles realized maybe... he doesn't have to. Now Arthur only has to manage to stay out of trouble and alive long enough for Charles to do something about it.

“C'mon”, he mumbles, letting Taima fall into a light canter. “Let's find that fool.”

Knowing where to start is the first crucial step of every hunt – fortunately, the only person seeing him sneak away was Javier, and from him Charles got the gist of what happened in low whispers. Dutch is gonna be pissed, he'd cautioned, shaking his head, bring him back or don't return at all, and Charles had given him a tight-lipped smile and said nothing.

The steep Heartland hills put Taima to work, and she's huffing and sweating by the time they reach the location Javier named. Charles dismounts stiffly, his thighs aching from riding and protesting all the more as he crouches down to inspect the ground.

Criss-crossing hoof prints, too many to tell them apart, relatively fresh. Good enough. He whistles for Taima to follow, and sets off.

Minutes blur into hours, and Charles has made his way further east when he finds Arthur's hat. He almost misses it, trampled and half-covered by dust and bits of grass as it is – for a moment, he just stares, heart twisting in his chest like a living thing.

Like the sky is blue and water is wet, Arthur always, always goes back for his hat.

“Fuck this”, Charles hisses. He's in the saddle and galloping ahead before he knows it, the reins in one hand and the hat pressed to his chest with the other. The tracks are easy to see, now: at least four, five horses passed through not too long ago, cutting straight through the landscape without regard.

Confidence, or recklessness? It doesn't matter; they'll regret it either way, and soon.

Up ahead, he can make out the Dakota River, glinting silver in the bright midday sun. A lone figure appears before it, outline hazy, almost hallucinatory in the heat. Charles squints, gathers Taima into a ball of tension beneath him, ready for anything–

Is that–?

“Arthur!”

They burst forth, the thundering of hooves and the beat of his heart mixing into one. Charles calls out again, cursing between clenched teeth because he's not reacting, why is he not–

“Morgan? Hey, say something you damn–“

The momentum carries them in a wide circle around the familiar brown mare and Charles holds his breath, catching sight of Arthur slumped over her neck and blood, lots of it, all over his back and the horse's shoulder, too.

Shit. Dyani looks ready to bolt, nostrils flared wide open and eyes near-frenzied with stress as she pants in loud bursts. Charles glances at her rider's precarious position, mind rushing a mile a minute – calm the horse, or grab Arthur first?

If he's alive, that is.

There's no time to panic; keeping the adrenaline pumping through his veins out of his voice, Charles soothes, “It's okay, Dyani”, pressing ever closer to grab the reins. The horse trembles in place, ears dancing from left to right. “Shh, girl, calm now. You're safe.”

He's got her by the second try, and coaxes Taima beside her, mindful not to squash Arthur in the process.

Please be alive.

With the horses' flanks touching, Charles reaches over and pulls, sliding back to drag Arthur's limp body into his own saddle. “Arthur?” – nothing, not even a groan or a strained breath, and blood readily soaks into his shirt as he holds him tight with an arm around his waist–

But there's a pulse too, beating weakly against his, and Charles clings to it with everything he's got, vowing never to let go.

The clear trickle turns red, then pink every time Charles wrings out the cloth.

Arthur lies on a hastily spread bedroll little ways up shore, on the first patch of dry grass Charles could find once he decided they're far enough away to risk a temporary camp. It's certainly not perfect – somewhat secluded from the main road by a line of bushes, it still leaves them wide open and vulnerable in many other aspects – but Charles'd rather fend off any trespassers than leave Arthur's wounds to fester uncontested.

Kneeling by his friend's side, Charles glances over the progress he's made. Dressed in worn, clean clothes he found in one of Arthur's saddlebags, days worth of blood, sweat and grime had given way to purple-green bruises in various stages of healing. Even now, with the worst of it tended to, Charles' lips thin to a tense line at the obvious signs of torture and malnourishment.

Fucking O'Driscolls.

Before, he'd been largely neutral towards this feud between Colm and Dutch – it happened long before his time in the gang, and wasn't as much of a problem then as it is now – but this happened on Charles' watch, and if Dutch isn't willing to avenge it...

Charles shakes his head. Nothing to be done about it, now.

The wound on Arthur's shoulder is his biggest concern; its edges are torn and only partly-cauterized, leaving it a welcome breeding ground for infection or worse. Having dealt with guns and the damage they can do all his life, Charles can imagine all-too-vividly what must've happened.

A bit further down and he'd be dead on the spot, goes through his mind, and not for the first time, he pauses to breathe.

The cloth leaks small rivulets down Arthur's discolored skin as Charles digs into the wound and twists, ignoring the weak moan coming from the downed man. Only when it turns into a soft plea that sounds sickeningly close to “stop” does Charles look up, caught utterly off guard by Arthur's feverish gaze on him.

“Charles...?”

Easing up on his shoulder, Charles leans into his field of view, cupping Arthur's flushed cheek with his not-bloodied hand. He tries not to think too much of the difference in body temperature.

“Yeah, it's me. Stay put, okay? You've been shot.”

Arthur blinks, slowly, resting his head against Charles' palm. “'s Dutch 'kay?”, he rasps, eyes closed and brows drawn tight against the pain. “Trap. 's a–”

“Dutch is fine”, assures Charles with a little too much force; calmer, he says: “Don't worry about anyone else, alright? Just... keep still, I'll get us out of here in no time.”

Arthur wheezes out, “'kay, boss”, and the trace of humor is so unexpected Charles laughs.

“Don't sass me, you crazy fool. I'm not the one who got himself captured, escaped, and rode dozens of miles while bleeding out.”

A wet chuckle. Arthur grimaces. “'s a talent, Charles. Stopped questionin' it long ago.”

“Doesn't stop me from worrying, though. Now shush, I'm almost done.”

The wound is as clean as it's going to get – Charles wraps it in generous amounts of gauze and hopes it'll hold for a few hours, at least. The horses should be good to go too, having spent the time grazing on every available tuft of grass around them.

Arthur has quieted down considerably, enough so that Charles thinks he's lost consciousness. When he buttons up his shirt, however, his lids flutter open again, squinting against the sun high in the sky.

Charles meets his questioning glance with a sympathetic wince. “We need to move. Want something for the pain?”

Arthur nods, too exhausted to speak. Carefully, Charles props him against his knee, holding him upright and letting him sip some whiskey within measured pauses. “Let's get this over with”, he mutters, whistling Taima over and trying not to aggravate any of Arthur's wounds as he manhandles him into the saddle.

Like before, he slides behind him, and with Dyani following dutifully, they set off up-stream.

Arthur falls into an uneasy sleep soon enough; Charles shifts to allow his head to rest against his shoulder. Listening to his rough panting, he tightens the steadying grip against his chest, gaze fixed on the far horizon.

>>Read on AO3

#red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan #charles smith #charthur #rdr fanfiction #@ rockstar let my boy live!!!!#i'm almost through the game fam #shit's starting to go down and i'm stressed #my stuff #RDR

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