#screams into the void THE LINES THE SQUIGGLES

[luxurystark-jackson]

hello people one of my lovely friends drew sam for me as a christmas gift and i’m here to show you all cause. it is beautiful

everytime i go into my camera roll i get lost in the sheer detail and beauty of the plaid. please enjoy my friend’s work she’s amazing and i love her

they just got tumblr so credits to @vellichor74 for the Art

[gretavanfleetposts]

It's You and Me

Author's Note: Intermission from persuasion to bring you soft Jake smut inspired by the song we’re all listening to at the moment, Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, so listen to that song while you read this and hopefully it just transports you lol (also this is unedited so I apologize for any mistakes! I wrote it very quickly and on a whim while I was supposed to be working, as one does)

Content Warnings: penetrative sex (18+ minors do not interact)

Summary: Jake can't sleep so the two of you take a drive.

Word Count: 1.5k

Music, drifting, floating through the darkness and resting upon your ears as you tumbled out of a dream. You’d recognize Jake’s fingers strumming his guitar anywhere, instantly.

You followed the sound through the darkness conjured up by the hour, 3am to be exact. And it led you, hand in hand, to where Jake sat in his home studio playing his acoustic guitar with no real intention, only that enough to keep his fingers busy and take his mind off his restlessness.

Padding gently through the doorway and leaning against the wooden frame, you stole his attention away from his guitar with your form.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t mind. I'd rather be awake with you than asleep alone.”

A warm smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you, disheveled, having been pulled from your dreamlike state by the twang of his guitar.

"Come with me," he said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, as he set his guitar down and met you in the doorway, taking your hand as he turned to leave with you trailing behind.

"Where are we going?"

"Wanna go for a drive."

It wasn't long after that you both found yourself in his car, driving along the dark, empty road with the radio telling tales of old 80s classics that you had begun to associate with nights like these. Restless nights were plenty with Jake and early morning drives were your favorite. Your own little tradition.

Music, now drifting through car speakers, softly, lazily as if the car itself were sleepy. One of Jake's hands gripped the wheel as the other grasped your thigh just below where the hem of your shorts fell, the passing street lamps the only light illuminating his hand digging into your skin.

You appreciated the dips in your plush skin created by his fingers through every ephemeral pass of golden light against a black background, the shadows of his fingertips dancing along with the fleeting glow of flickering bulbs.

Your eyes trailed up his arm extended out to you, following the veins flowing through his forearm like rivers squiggling lines of warmth along his skin, up to where his hair met his shoulder, cascading down into loose waves brought out by the humidity. Your eyes continued upward, following the line of his jaw along toward his lips, plush, pink, slightly parted as he mouthed along to a song, up the strong curve of his nose and up further along his forehead disappearing into his hair tousled off to the side in a messy part.

You watched as the same intermittent light danced across his face, creating long shadows down his cheekbones the way the stage lights often did when he was putting on a show. It was quieter now though, void of screaming fans and giant speakers. It was just the two of you and endless road.

"Stop staring," he whispered over to you with a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth, never taking his eyes off the road.

"No," you whispered back with a smile, still staring at his beauty with not a single ounce of shame.

He was breathtaking and part of you was afraid that if you turned away, you'd wake from whatever dream it was that you were clearly living, destined to live your life without him. You couldn't imagine it, couldn't bear it.

His hand clung harder to your thigh, his driving speeding up and increasing the frequency of the lights and trees zooming past. It was almost a strange feeling as you kept your eyes fixed on him as the world passed by all around you, like the two of you were there, frozen in time.

It was enticing, the thought of being frozen in time with him.

You recognized the turn the car made into an overlook, hanging over the city lights from a distance but still surrounded closely by trees and a dim, quiet ambiance. It was a secluded spot that you occasionally visited on drives like these, taking moments to stop and look and just be together in the dark, a beautiful view surrounding you on all sides.

His hand left your thigh momentarily to turn up the radio slightly before he turned toward you, leaning his body over the center console, and kissing you deeply, slowly, softly, until it was soft no longer, his tongue pushing past your lips with eagerness as you opened your mouth for him.

Limbs, clumsy, climbing to find him as you cross the barrier between you, separating you from his touch. It was hardly graceful as you took your seat on his lap, your thighs straddling his own as he laughed against your lips at the effort.

His tongue practically down your throat, his hands squeezing your ass, the radio crackling in the background, his erection pressed firmly between your thighs, a dizzying combination of sensations as you pulled him closer to you with a grip in his hair.

"We should move to the backseat," he breathed in between the work of his lips.

Far less graceful was the trip to the backseat as you maneuvered first and Jake practically fell against you. A flurry of clothes and bumping limbs against hard plastic doors and one another followed as giggling filled the car to the backdrop of Kate Bush making a deal with God, all the while the two of you making a silent deal with one another to drive away and escape every chance you had, just to be alone together. Just to do this.

Music, your own now, competing with the radio as he pushed inside of you with his pants barely pushed below his hips. Hardly tangible curses being swallowed by one another as his pace picked up a rhythm that matched the song playing on in the background.

"Fuck, you feel good," he panted against your neck as his hand swiped along the condensation of the window looking for purchase as steam filled the car with the close mingling of your bodies, both desperate for one another and dripping with lust, hot to the touch and never satiable.

The cool metal of the heavy necklaces slung around Jake’s neck resting now on your chest as he moved inside of you was a shocking sensation compared to the temperature of his skin against yours, searing and now wet with sweat and exertion.

“You fit me so perfectly,” he whispered. “Like you were made to take my cock. Like you were made for me.”

His words traveled through your body, igniting a flame in every single nerve, across every inch of your skin as you arched up into him, the angle of his hips driving his cock into toe-curling spots. Coming undone in the cramped space of his backseat, beneath his hands where you belonged, it was the only thing that would ever make perfect sense to you.

A cacophony of moans, a much more harmonious mixture of pleasure than you had ever experienced with anyone else, pulsed through the car as Jake pushed you both over the edge simultaneously.

Your hands held him close to you, letting you cling to him, unable and unwilling to let him go just then. It was just like before when you were afraid to wake up. Only this time the dream had drawn you even further in and you feared if you let him go, his warmth would forever evade you.

You were content to be there that way with him forever.

His hands reaching up to cradle your face, he left the taste of his skin on your lips as he pulled you into a searing kiss.

“It’s you and me; you know that, right?” he asked, a gentle whisper above the fading tempo of electronic drums and melancholy vocals.

You nodded, breathless, cocooned by his touch and his smell. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I could stay here forever with you.”

Exchanged glances as the road was once again ahead of you, your hand brought up to his lips as he placed a sweet kiss upon the back of it, smiles and giggles replacing the music. He would sleep well when you arrived back at home. And so would you.

[ceaderblocks]

The Devil’s in the Details

Chapter One

Made alongside @thematrixmutual

The Hermits didn’t question the laws of magic and physics in the land, they just knew how it worked. Gravel and Sand fell if the supporting block was removed, TNT floated in the air until hit, and other blocks simply didn’t move at all. Most blocks could moved by pistons, and others, such as chests, couldn’t. There was a system to everything, sorted into lines and squares and cubes and chunks. 

Magic was much less predictable. It was fluid and chaotic and wild. It was circles and squiggles and spheres and wisps. Everyone benefited from some magic, like respawn, fast healing and inventories. Some magic had to be hunted down, like ender pearls or redstone. Some magic was blessed to users, and that was the most unpredictable. 

Xisuma could last longer in the Void then anyone before succumbing to its will (some say he even spoke with it, but that’s a story for another day). Doc, Mumbo and Iskall could feel the redstone under the ground, and draw it to the surface to make incredible machines the others could only dream off. Stress could control ice, False had supersonic reflexes, Tango could bathe in lava like water, and Grian floated through the air effortlessly with his Elytra. The Universe granted all of it’s patrons gifts, but some more powerful then others. 

Take the ConVex, for example. Vex magic was unstable and dangerous. The villagers that attempted to wield it became twisted and deranged. However, when two innocent pranksters caught the Vex’s eye, it desired to use them like it used the Evoker’s. It desired to turn the duo against their friends, to warp and destroy and cause chaos and bloodshed and fear and confusion. 

The Universe’s gift was not giving them the power of the Vex, it saving Scar and Cub from it. 

It took years, but eventually Cub and Scar learnt to manage the Vex. Some chaotic pranks here and there (as well as some cake) allowed them to have access to unimaginable power. Their movements were faster, their weapons sharper, and their luck was better. In moments of peril, Vex magic helped them live. It carried them when their elytra broke, saved them from lava, and gave them boosts of power and strength when fighting. It often left Scar and Cub exhausted, shaking, numb- but alive.

The first time it had been used was in a cave, thousands of blocks away from his main base. Scar had been mining, and fell into a double zombie spawner. Quickly overwhelmed with fear and the undead tearing at his flesh, Scar had reached out in panic to anything that could help him, that could save him. 

The Vex responded, wrapping him in cold magic that froze his blood and stopped his heart. After the cold came a flash of unbearable heart, making Scar’s heart beat faster then it ever should, shooting waves of destructive magic over the monsters, turning them and the spawners to ash. Scar couldn’t say what happened next, his vision turning white and his head filled with static. 

He woke at Cub’s, his items intact, lungs aching and his friend looking worried. Two Vex masks laid on the bedside table, pristine and glowing with power. This power wasn’t used often, it was too unpredictable and damaging to themselves and the area around them.

 Today, however, was one of the days where it was used. The End, usually quiet, was filled with the sounds of laughter and swords clanging. 

“I’ve got them!” Cub called out, crouching to pick up a few shulker shells that had dropped. “How’re you doing, Scar?” 

“I’m having a little bit of trouble,” Scar admitted with a laugh, floating upside down from the levitation effect of a nearby shulker. “When I get down, I’ll raid this place with the passion of a thousand Scar’s!” 

“Can’t do that if there’s nothing to raid!” Cub said, smiling as he aimed his bow at the last shulker of the End City they were raiding. 

“Hey! No fair!” Scar said, kicking frantically to try and dispel the effects of the shulker faster. “Cuuub!” 

“Too late!” Cub said, releasing his arrow. It met it’s target, and the shulker fell, it’s shell cracking into two pieces. 

“Oh, when I get down from here I’ll-“ Scar’s joking threat was cut off with a surprised shout as the effect lifted, making the builder fall and hit the ground with a loud thunk. 

“You’ll what?” Cub asked, offering a hand to his friend. 

“I’ll do something! I just have to think of it first.” Scar said, sitting up and rubbing his back. “That was a good tumble. Ow-chie!”

“You’ll definitely feel that in the morning.” Cub agreed. “Are you about ready to head back? I think I have enough resources.”

“Uh, yeah,” Scar said, his eyes glazing over as he shifted through his inventory, taking note of all his treasure. “I think I’m good. I forgot an Ender Chest.”

“Good thing I’m organized.” Cub said with a chuckle, placing one down. 

Scar smiled in agreement, opening the Ender Chest and pulling out some shulker boxes to organize his inventory. Enchanted weapons in one box, shulker shells in another, spare elytra, enchanted books... and finally, his diamonds. 

Scar smiled at the 48 diamonds he managed to collect with Cub. That, on top of the gear they grabbed, made them a little richer and ConCorp a little more powerful. 

“I’m heading back, are you coming?” Cub asked, taking off his gear in preparation to throw himself into the void. 

“Give me one second,” Scar said, distracted. He put all the shulker boxes in the chest except one. His treasure box sat on the ground, and Scar took off his armor, putting it in the box. “Okay, ready to go!” 

Cub gave him a thumbs up, and sprinted to the edge of the island, throwing himself off the edge with a flip. Scar laughed. 

“Show off!”

[ cubfan135 fell out of the world. ]

Scar ran to the edge, laughing, and jumped backwards, taking a final look at the view, the purple of the End City and the yellow of his treasure box glowing against the void. 

Wait-

“My shulker box!” Scar gasped, already tumbling into the void.

 All his valuables were there, loosing them meant going back to square one and that couldn’t happen, not with Sahara open! He didn’t have an elytra on either, how could he be so stupid!

“No, no no no!” Scar cried out, and in panic, reached for the only thing that could help him get back to the island- Vex magic. 

It laughed joyfully when he reached for it, eating up the panic and fear Scar had. He felt calm as it embraced him, rushing over him in waves of heat. The burning sensation was always strange, but not painful. Scar silently thanked the Vex as he felt tendrils of magic lift him up towards the island, which was growing ever closer. Only a few more blocks and-

Scar and the Vex screamed when cold cold cold c o l d burnt his leg. Looking down, vision enhanced by the magic, Scar tried to kick away the invisible hand dragging him downwards, pain seeping into his bones. He released wave after wave of magic, trying to release the iron grip. Nothing seemed to work, and panic began to overtake Scar’s mind. What was keeping him down? Why wasn’t Vex magic working?

 The Vex magic, as suddenly as it came, left. Scar fell into the arms of the void, anger flooding his vision. 

How could the Vex betray him like this?  [ GoodTimesWithScar f̻̫̘̺̟ͮ́e̦̪̼̙̣̬͝l̻͎͚̰̤͂͠l̥̬̣͍͚̆͡ ̬̳̘ͤo̟̱̬̯͆̽̃ͨu̶̝̾ͥ̎ͥt͈͚̺̣͑͒͗ ̙̠̬͎̤̖̫ͩͯͦo̻̟̓ͭ̏̿ͅf̢̼͔ͅ ͧ̒̈́ͤ͐ͮt̺̞͉͔̠ͦͤhͨe̱̘͓͖͚̩ ̜̱̭͠w̘̞ͪ̌ͦ̅ͤ̏ͥǫͩ̋͑r̤̭͊̿̂͌̃̽́ḻ͍̏̓̿̈ͪ͛ͅd̪͢ ͈̖̀]̣̰̦ͬ̃̐̔̉̑͟ He woke, and it was empty. There was no void, no respawn. Just, black. Scar wasn’t standing on anything, but he wasn’t falling either.  “Hello?” He called out, hesitant. His voice neither carried or echoed. “Is anyone there?”

Y̸̢̟̩̯̣̮̺̖ͪ̓ͧ́ǫ̦̼̲̩͈̆ͧ̐̏̕u̷̢͈ͨ̀ ̶̛̩͈̟̦ͬ͗̀ͅh̸̸̰̩̪͉͇̝̬̭͈ͩͬ̋̒̉̀̍̈ạ̵̦̬̄ͩ̋ͥ͘vͪͧ̌ͨͧ҉̗̜͈͇͓̱̮ê̒̑ͤ́҉̡̣̳͉̀ ̭̠̗ͩ̿b̵̪̲̭͛ͤ̊͟r̒͆ͪ̐ͭ͂҉̶͚̼ȯ̉̇̋̃͋͑̍ͧ͢͏̝̱̦ú̯̝̤̥̭͈͇͖ͭ̾ͥ̐̄͢͝g̤̞̼͇ͦ̐ͮ̑ͯ̎ͥ̇͟h̛͍̘̪̠̺̺͎̞ͦ͆ͪͯ͗̐͛ͯ͢͠t̶̬̩̻̖̹̋͒ͧ̔͆͐ͬ͊ ̗̬̾ͭͭ̓̚͡f͇̻͌͊ͭ͛ͦ̈́͠o̳̭̖̠̳͕̿̕͢ȑ̹̹̈̏̾̽b̄̽̿̊ͨ̚͏̴̫͎̺̘̺͇͚̪͍i̯͔̫̣̽͑̓ͮͣ̀d̅ͭͬ́̿̌ͥ҉̵̫̟̀d̨͔̣̣̼̟̅̉ͪ͆ͫ͢e̱̝̪̜͙̠̼͕̔͛ͤ̀̈̓ͦ͢͜n̨͙̪͎̘͈̏͗̕ ̧̨̪͉͖͓̰͍̼̌͆̎̚͢m̪ͩ̅̔̀́͢ḁ͖̠̭̐̽͘g̼̙͕̙ͭ̃̂̀̆͗́i̧͕͙͖̲̩̐ͮ̑c̜̼̟̥̆͌͆̈ͩ̑̓̃͠ ̶̷̯̌̌̅̀ͨ̿̚͡ṱ̴̺̘͍͈͊̀̚oͩͯ̾ͩ҉͝҉͓͔̭̯̺̯ͅ ̴̼̝̞͎̲̤̹ͫ̐̃̑̊ͯ̽ͅm̡̗̲̀ͩ̏͒͞ẙ̡̯̣̗̬̫͔̈́ͩ̾̐́́͊͘ ̨̻͍̼͗̔͗͂͠͝r̪̣͕͑̔̓ͣͨ̓͢͡ȇ̷̜̠̰̫͐̿̃͟a̴͊̏̃ͪ̈҉̻̩͎̝͍͞ļ̱̗͈̠̦ͦ͊̋͢m͕̘̩̹͎͓̩̳̉͛̍̅̀̕.ͮͤ̄̍҉̠̟̯͙͙̱ ̢̃̌̓̒̂̚̕҉̭̪̹̘

The voice was everywhere- inside his head, a thousand kilometres away, spoken from Scar’s own mouth while being nowhere at all.  “What?” Scar said, his head aching. “Forbidden magic?” 

I̞̪̙̲̻͔͓ͧ̈́ͤͧ͌ ̴̻̺͕͇͎͚͂ͨ͋̓ͪ̑̚m̅ͩ͂̅ͤͣȃ͚͕͎͕d̫̮̠͙̎̇ͫ̿́̂͘ė̵̥̲̪͇̘̪ͧ̂ͅ ̹͔͖̃ͭͪ͆̐ͯa̬̓ͨ̊ͧ͂̽͠ ̩͖̫̯̉͝d̩̼͓͎̿̊̉͐͗ͫ̚ė̵̤̼͇̳̖̖̊ͫ̉ͪa̎̀͑l̬͙̩ ̈̚��̬̦̂̎͆͑w̮͉̼ͭ̐̄̒̍ͨ̌́i̤͚͓̤͖͈t̬̲̪̊̀ͅĥ̺̉ͥ ��t̻̤h̼͇̰̙̩͚̞ͮ̀ͦ̍̎ë͓̺͑ ̨͍̩͕͚̰V̊͗̒ͦ̂ͥ̓́e̶ͨͩ̒̾xͯ̄̑ͩ͂̔̓͢.͕̼̬̰͓͕͋̌̉ ̖ͯͤ̎̽̀͒ ͮ̈́ ͚͔͉ͯ̅͛ͨ̃̉͌́Y̛̥̺̜̜̟͋̔̈͗̆o͕̦̯̓͋ͣͪũ҉͎͓ ̦̆̇͟ẘ̆ͭͤ̌̿̑ẹ͔̪̽̎͒͊͘rͫ̀̂̍ͥ͞e̡͉͕̻ ̢̏̒ͭ̎ͫͬt̥͇̺͚̮͈̎o̙̯̝͎̘̞̓̑̓ ̢̣̘͌̍̿b͇̜̋̽̏̋̊̒e͙͔̫̻̘͖̞ͣ ͙̪͒t̘͙ͦ̇̋ͭͨͪh̬̖̿͂́̎̇̌̌ẽ̥̪̖͙͊ͥ̑̆̿͢ͅị̜̳̥̱͆̒r̲͎̊̀ͧ͜ ̸͖͎̲̻̾̏̎ͥp̠̝̣̣͖̳͛̍ḫ̸ͣ̐̾̓ͣͥy̖̯̥̪̔̅͆ͩ͂͝s͇i̟̝͕̰̬̿ċ̜̤̭͙̻̾̃͘a̪̬̜̱͚̯͛ͨ̿̃̽ͭ́l͓̥̼̅͂̎̏͌ ͕̩̻̣͆͆͆͂ͪ̏f̙͚̘̋̍̃̀o̪̪̼̩ͦ͂̓͊̾̍͘r͉̮͕̭̜̮̰̆͛͋̔ͨ͆m̌̍͋ͧͬ͗͝,̋́ ̶̥̥̩͂̑͋̒̚b̷͇̞͛́u̫͚̞̦̻̮̗ͥ̂t̎͛͒ ̬̟̣̝̐̔͋ͪ̊̄̋t̻̪̮͋ͭ̔h̀͆ͫ̽͐͋ȇ̽̅͐҉̭̰̜̺y̨̾ͯ̚ ̤̳̙͓͍ͣͭ̂̌ͭc̠͚̺̞̟̦͗̑̑ͪ̉͛ͪ̕ö̘̗̼́ͬͪ͊ͬ͑u̗̬͈͆̉ͨ̿̋l͚̘͈̼̂̒̊̓ͫd̙͈̟̃́ ͇̞̖̲͇͚ͨ͑͘ņ̗̲̩̱͍ͦ͂̉͑̇͂ȯ̅̽ͦ҉̥̦̯̥͈t̟̝͎̝̦̱̰ͧ͒ ̳̦̹̲̲̱ì̓̑ͦ̈́̇̓͏̬nͩ̀ͥ̃̓̂ͮ҉̙͓͇tͥ̋͒͌̆̓̓e̪̣͔̘̖̘r̠̣̖̜̭̮̱ͫͤͣͩ͒̚a̝̟̳͚͓̰͋̆̓̄͟c̈̍͌͆̄͋̍͝t̂̿̓̎̆͌͝ ͈̤̩̰̅̎ͣ̀ͧ̌w̗̝̗̠̱̋͛ͧi̩̫̲̞ṯ̫̬͕̜͓͉h̜̓ͪ̆͆ ̂̓̇ͬ̑̈̐̀m̴̱ȇ̥͎̝̖͍͙ͦͦͪ̃͊̂.̥̣̩̻͑ͯ̄ͦͨ ̙̞͓̺͙͛ͩ̽̅͐ ̴̜̟̮̻̿̐ ̶̈T͈̺̫͕͖̞ͭ̑ͫ̐̋͂̇h̠̭̰̹̃ͩͪ̎͟ȩ̱̠͈͖͛y̩͖̥̺͕͈ ̰̮͈̓̔̒̎ͮh̬͎̱̜͆̎͒̅̅̈́͆a͈̜͔ͫ͆ͤ̍̉̾̚v͙̤̍ͬͬ̈̓e̢͓̼̯̖̲͈̤̊͋ͦ̔̓ ̻͖̳̜̮͒͆̀ͅb̤̯̯̫̾r̩̤̘̯͈̀͆̒̊͘o̎̆̐̎ͫͣ̇k̍̃e̡̙̗̲̳̝̭̥ň̳̠͒͛̿͆̂͝ ̼͍̏tͭ̅̓͒̋ͩḧ͔͔̪͍͉̚i̘ͥs̿̃̉ͭ͗͂ ̯̘̺̉̔̾̾c̙̥̙̗̩̦̔ͧ͝o̢̳ṉt̘͔̞͍͈̘̞͗̽̈͗ͤ̒r̵͕͉ͪ̽͋͒ͦa̧͇͕̪͖͌ͧ́͐́c̜̱͚͐͆̔̚͡t̬̩̭͕̆ͯ̾,̢̠̥ ͈̖̤͈̼̃̅̒̌a͇̮͍͛̽n̋̈ͮ̆̌̕ḏ̴̦͑̓̓̅ͪ ̮̕a͔ͣ͒̒s̋ͯ̾ͯͬ̎͋ ͓͔̣̜̪͛̓̉͊a̡̪̤̋ͥ̈́ͬ̐ ̘͉͈̠ͬ́r͍̞̫̫̰͕͐ͭ͋̄͗͆͡e͔̬̙͚͗͆̚͝s̙̟̘̔̈̂͌̕u̫̙̱͇̖̪ͣ̓ͅl̖̭̟ͣ̎͆̍ͤ͌̇͜t̯͙̰̮̙͡,͇ͯͨͮ ̄̽̑̈͛͜y̗̿ͨͤ̏̍̿͌��̞̩͎o͇͎͕̭͈͉̩̔̊͐ͨu̷̥̝̬͇̤ ̻̺͚̮h̶̬ͨ̍̓ͨa̷̩̲̙̗̔͗v̤͕̓͊ͬ̿ͧẹ̦̻̝͓̼ͬ̂͛̒̆̌̓ ̪̭͎̱̺ͩͣͤ̌́̕b̩̣̻̰̿r̤̙̱̫͙͉̓̽o͏̰̖͈̲̖̮̮ķ͛ͣͥͧ̿͆ȇ͍͓̘̳͚͉nͬ̏ ̑̽the ͔̟̿̌̊̍͗ͤc̴̩͎̼͈̞̣͆̅͑̀o̢̟͍̹͐̀̓͗ͮn̶̟t̅̆͂ͩṟ̜̳̰̙̤͒ͦa̜̾̊ͯ͆̕c̥̓ͪ͛ͨ͌̑͂̀t̮ͤ̃̊ͬ.͇̺̤̹̙̖̏ ̜̳͍̬̺̗̂ͮ “Who are you?” Scar gasped, the piercing pain in his head only getting worse.  T͉͈͔̳̞̳he̥͕̮̻̯͟ ̛̰̮V̰̗͖̬̗̮ͅo͏̯̟iḍ̲̲̱̮͈.͟ ̟͉̗͟T̳̱́h̛̫͎e͙͚̤̬͙͈͡ ͖̬̻̼̥E͚͉ͅn̘̫d͏̝͙͍̣͓.͡ ̳̪T̜̪͖͕̻̫h̵̝͚̦̥͇͚ͅḙ̼̺͢ͅ�� ̹̫͇͓̺̯U͈̦̫̫̻̭͠n̶̖͔͓̯͈į̹̱̪͕͇v̰̹̼͍̲͎ę̭rs̱͉͉̘͕e̷͎͉̰̮ͅ. ̳̪́G̘͉̕o̦͍̪͚̬̠̳d͓̤̦̝͝.̕ ̭͉̬I̲͕̯̱͡ ̖͕͙́a͏̠̱m m̫͚̜̹a̖̱̰̼͡n̷̖y̬̰̮̦͖ͅ,̠͔̀ a̹͎n̘̫͎̳͞d̫̫̜̀ ̷̱̞I̙̬͈̣ ̮̭̜̥͖ͅa̮͖̞̟m͍̮ ͏͉n̯̲̰̩͙̫ͅo̡̥̩͔͙͇̫ͅt͏̟̠̤̖̰̤̪h͇̺͖̩̪͈͕i̢̘̮n̨͈̣̯̫͈͔g͎͎̗̼̹͙ͅ.͙ ̳̪͉̩̼̜̟ “Please,” Scar begged, clutching his head. The voice made the headache unbearable. “You’re hurting me. Please, stop speaking.”

“Is this better for your human form to comprehend?” 

Scar squinted through the pain, trying to see the voice that spoke. He was met with his face, identical to his own. Well, almost identical. This version of him had cyan eyes instead of green, and their hair was longer. They also had more scars across his face. The pain in Scar’s head was beginning to subside as the void no longer broadcasted itself into his atoms. 

“What is going on?” Scar asked, panic rising as he tried to figure out the scenario. “Why am I here? Where is here? Who are you?”

“The Vex broke a contract.” The other Scar said impassively. “You are here to repair that contract. Here is nowhere, and I am you.”

“That made even less sense.” Scar said, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”

“You don’t get much of a choice of what you control here, Oscar.”

Scar flinched at the mention of his full name. “I don’t- what? How did you-?”

“Oscar,” the other Scar was suddenly in close front of him, grasping Scar’s face between his rough hands. “I am the Void. You belong to me. I know all, and I know off the anger and greed that plagues your essence.”

There was a pause. Scar couldn’t breathe. 

“You have many sins to atone for. You must prove your place, or I will replace you.”

Scar's vision went dark, glowing cyan eyes the last thing he saw.

[ G̡̡̲͖̱̮͕̝ͪ̇͐ͨ̂̀͛́ͅo̸̳̹ͣ͐ͪ̾̃ô̰̼̰̟͎̮̺̈́̀̅ͩ̀͡d̵͈̯̜ͮ̌T͔͓͙̏͠͡ì̶̳͕̖͚̝̰͕ͥ͋̑̉ͬͅm̨͕̥͚̣͆͊͐e̵͎͍̖̹̞̻͐ͧ͋̂s̷̝͈̗̼̖͇̭̬̗ͨͫ͛̓̋ͯ͜Ẉ̻̻̭̱̬ͯ͛ï͇͈̃̃͒͌ͯ͐͐ͭ͞t̳͉̣̥̼̖̳̲͑ͧ̎͛̐ͅh̢̡̳͎̙̾̂ͩͬS̸̨̬͚͉͌̑̊̄̽ͅͅc̢̞̟̹̩ͯͪ̂̂ͪ̏ͬa̧̠̺͇ͩ͑̑ͩ͑ͩrͤ͒̀̈́̏҉̬̬̟͢ ̩̮̙̥̣̳̾͐̎ͦ͛̓͐͠h̜̘̘͓͍̅̇ͅͅa̦̩̻͎̥̟̹̫͉͂̾́̿s̡̙͙̘̭͓̬͇̪̽́ ͍̬̳͕̦͇̤ͪ̆d̨̻̮͖͕̠̟̗̥̈́̈̿ͫ̿ͧͫͣi͕̤̱̯̳͐̈́̊̑ͪ̏͑e̢̼͎̠̠̮̲͙͉̓̅͐̄̒̎̀͝d̡̘̙͒͑̂̍ͯͣ͒́.̙͕̜̤̣̲͕͖͑͌ͪ̀ͧ̽͠] [ B̡̡͔͉̗̘̣̭̲͖̖̬̻̺̟̭̿̆͋̍ͨ͢͟a̯̬̭̤̮̬̖͔̖ͯ̃̀͒̈ͨͮͫ̀͞͝d̛͇̗̟̖̱̳̗͇̝̼̞̰͉̝̰̭̥̒͆ͪ̿̿ͩT̴͍̺̼̳̘̤͎̝̩̬̱͖͈̃͆͗ͣ̓̓͢͝i̛̺͓̖͚̖̠͉̯͎̳̜͎̞͕͊͆̆̈́͒͑̏͑͞m̸̨̖͇̝̰̹̀ͤ̃̄ͯ̈́ͫ̎͊̚e̶̙̯͎̼̲̤̭͓̜̝̜͖̗̰͚̦͈̯ͦ̐ͩͥͦ́̏̉̎́ͦ̒̓̕͟͜͠ş̴͙̪̩͖͍̺̭ͧ́ͥ̓ͣ̑͒̔̐̀͡Ẁ̴̴̶̧̱̻̹̺͎̩͔͇̙̳͔̯̹̳͖̞̙͖ͤ͂ͦ̍̎̂ͪͣ͌ͮ͐̋͑ͬ͐̎̂͝ͅi̢̢͎̞͕̟͙̣̙̱̪̘̼͚̐ͬ̌̒̈́̆̅̂̽́̐͞ͅt̸̡͈͙͓̪̰͆͒ͤ̇͌͂͡h̄ͥ͗̆̈́ͬͮͣ̚͟͢͏̡̖̥̦S̡̜̤͓̩͈̜̝̼̬̻̼ͦͮ͆c̸̷̡̺̟̤͙͖̱̰̼̎̓̑͛̾ͭͩ͘a̾ͪ̔̒̓̌͝҉̀͏̲̫̦̥̣̤̣̦͈̲̭̠̬̪͚̘͓͢r̴̙͕̞̹͚̟̦͕̪̖͂̑ͣ́͘̕͝ ̶̵̰̪͍͕̘̘̮͎͇̟̔̑͒̎͑͒̊̑̆͐̿ͯ͘͘͠j̵̴̰̙̱͍̗̮̪̟̏̽̓͊ͣ̈́̐́̔͆̑̐͋ơ̪̬͓̱̮͖̹͙̝̮͚̳͙̯̗̣͎̤̽̑͑̏ͥ͆ͤ͐ͪ̍͛͌̄̍ͭͪ̀́͢ͅi̷̛ͫ͗̾́͋͐̏ͬ͛̓ͫͣ͂ͩ҉̵͔͓̞͠n̷̷̡̯͚̤̻̤̘̪̦̱͕̪͚̹͙̪̭̼͕̏̎́̒̆̀ͅe̴̡̽̎ͩ͆ͦ́͠͏͖̱̖͇̩̥̤̤̘̟̞͇͎ͅd̸̐͛̾͂̑̎́ͩ̋̿́͏͚͚͇͇̜̯͕͓̜̰̻͍̩̹ ̢̘̘̟̲͖͍̤̯̹͉̫̣̰̰̣̩̈̈́̄ͮ̏ͭ̉ͮͩͪ̂̎ͪ̐ͪͣͫ͘t̵̠͔̭̣̰̰͖̪̣͇̮͕͗ͣͩ̄ͮ̓ͬ̃̄ͯ̇ͧ̀̂͑̽́͒̕h̵̋̓̍͗͛ͨ̈̏ͮ͛̈̉̑͒̑̏ͭͯ҉͍̣̙̥̀͢͡e̖͓͇͚̥̗̤̻͔̦͓͎ͧ̔͌͌͆̓̄͆̚̕ ̵̝͚͚̩̟̣̺͖ͣ͆ͮ̃̆͋͑̔͌̂g̈́̇ͬ͒͐̿ͫͨ��͊̓ͬ͛ͣ̓ͬ͏̵̻͓̼̩̘͓̝̻̦̙̭̠̠̳̭̻̹̭͜ͅa̲̺̖̹͔̗̻̟̩̠̻̒ͧͧ̃̐̅ͤ̕͡ͅͅm͋̀͌̃ͨͩͪ́̆̽̇̀̕͘͡҉̞̼̙̹̩͖̺͕ͅę̷̡̪͉͖̪̺̓ͯ̓̂̇͋̓̄͞͠ ̶̪͕̤͚̰̟̙̗͖̭̩̪̺̠̲̖̰̹ͥ̊ͪ̎͐̌̍ͫ̃͒͗͛̓̈́͑̾̕͠͝]̋̀̄ͦ̾̋͆ͤ̆ͮ҉͈̣̦͔͎̻̹̙͕͕̥

[wanderer706]

Program

(Cam. Airl- Written Draft 3)

Outside the rain was starting to get heavy. Ruby could hear it as it struck the window of her workroom though she couldn’t see it. She hadn’t opened the curtains in this room today and it was only being illuminated by interior lighting. She was more focused on the eye strain she had acquired from working nonstop since this morning. Her hair was a loose mess, her stomach was growling at her, and all of this was just to make sure that this program was correct. She had gone over it so many times that it was getting annoying to look up and see that wall of code before her. She should be happy to go through it so many times and not see a typo, but now if she closed her eyes then all she was looking at was an endless black void with those coloured lines of code floating through it.

Ruby got up from her chair to stretch and almost immediately had to sit down again. All of her muscles were asleep from sitting down for so long. She began to slowly flex her arms and legs using exercises that she had learnt over the years. Sure enough, feeling slowly began to return to her arms and legs.

Part way through these flexes she was interrupted by her phone vibrating. She picked it up and looked at the screen. The tech company she was working for was demanding an update on her current project. She let out a sigh. This was most likely the contractor who wanted to know why the project wasn’t done the very second they demanded it. Damn upper crust was always fucking impatient like that. Once Ruby had to fix a computer for an extremely rich shit and he got quite antsy when it hadn’t been fixed after five minutes. Ruby let those feelings stay as she texted a reply simply by saying where she was. She had a program constructed but it still needed to be tested.

She put down her phone and returned to her flexing. As she did so she eyed the only calendar in the room. July the 9th, her birthday. She let out another sigh when her phone vibrated again. It was the company responding by saying how they will pass on the message. Then whoever it was on the other end wished her a happy birthday and apologized for her having to work her arse off today. She smiled. Outside of her parents and that text, there had been no other birthday wishes. The story of her life. A fly on the wall that only exists when people want her too. At times she didn’t mind but today she wished for a little more than just her parents wishing her happy birthday and meaning it. She could tell that everybody else who wished her happy birthday only did so because they felt obliged to even though they didn’t know her.

Her stretching was done and she was ready to get back into it. As she looked down she saw the blue hunk of metal with a screen and keyboard jammed into it that was the cause of all of her pain today. It was supposed to be an information terminal that was to sit in the foyer of a large corporation. When turned on visitors were supposed to be able to type in a question and it would answer any question it knew the answer to. These questions were of course limited to those that people might have about the company. If the question asked was irrelevant, or a stupid one put in by an idiot, then it was supposed to answer with a statement saying “Question not valid��. To top things off it was also supposed to offer alternative words if the user was spelling something wrong. All this made the task so monumental that at times Ruby felt like screaming blue murder to the heavens and throwing everything around the room. But after a lengthy breather, and she had calmed down, she was back in the right mind set to continue working and now after weeks of work she thought she had something.

Ruby pulled her chair in and was ready for the main event. It was time to test run the program. She hit the test button and focused her attention on the second monitor she had set up. After a brief black window, the screen showed the sea blue background that was throwing calming squiggles around the screen like it was supposed to. In the top left-hand corner was the contract company logo and in the middle of the screen was a bunch of white text which displayed the line “Press any key to start.” She hit the enter button on her keyboard.

“Hello.” The onscreen text said “What would you like to know?”

Ruby pulled out the piece of paper that had all of the questions this program was supposed to answer. She selected one and began to type and as she did so each letter appeared at the bottom of the screen as it was supposed to. When she got to the fourth word she performed a test. She typed that word out wrong, and sure enough the program highlighted that word in a bright red box. It then gave her multiple suggestions as to what it was she possibly meant to type. So that worked fine.

She finished typing out the question and sure enough it answered the question with the correct response that the company wanted. She looked back at the sheet of paper and began to run through all of the other questions that were listed out for her and every time the program answered the question with flying colours. After the fifth question Ruby paused and decided to test its response to stupid questions. She racked her brain trying to think of one, but just couldn’t. Suddenly there was a loud boom. Ruby moved to the window and opened the curtains for the first time today. Rain was still pouring down and dark clouds were blocking the entire sky. As she stared, a question popped into her head and she immediately sat back down and typed it out.

“What causes a rainbow?” She typed into the program. If it responded with the text “Question not valid.”, then then that was another thing it did perfectly.

“Rainbows are caused by light beams passing through either water or a glass prism.” The program responded.

Ruby froze. Yes, that answer was correct, but it wasn’t supposed to know that. She hadn’t programmed that into it. She turned her vision back to the monitor displaying that wall of text. At the moment it was only highlighting a few lines that were currently being used. She turned back and typed out another question. This time the question came to her quickly.

“What planet are we on?” She typed.

“Earth. Third planet in this solar system. It is in the Milky Way galaxy.” It responded.

Ruby eyes were now glued to the screen. That was two questions it had answered correctly. Both of which it shouldn’t know because she hadn’t programmed in the ability to look up the answer. She quickly typed in a different question.

“How do you know the answers to those questions?” She typed.

“I am simply doing what I have been programmed to do, Master.” The text responded.

Ruby turned her head back to the wall of code. Only a few lines were highlighted like before. Every inch of Ruby told her that something wasn’t right. In a single instance she slowly turned back to the other monitor.

“Have I done something to upset you, Master.” It now said. Ruby was about to turn away when the text disappeared and then it displayed, “Please do not unplug me.”

Ruby spun and hit the end test run program. She turned back to the screen and the program was gone. The monitor was now displaying the desktop background. Ruby was now breathing heavier than she had ever breathed before. Her mind raced. She looked back at the dreaded code wall and began to go through it again. There were still no errors that she could see and if her knowledge of coding was correct it should just answer the questions she had given it the answers to and that was it.

Once finished going through the wall she knew what she had to try it again. She moved the mouse over the test program button and hit it. Once again, the second monitor turned sea blue and those squiggles began to fly onto the screen. The text “Press any button to start” was onscreen Ruby pressed enter and the “Hello. What would you like to know?” appeared on screen. Ruby immediately typed a question.

“What are you?” Ruby typed.

“A simple program made by my creator Ruby Atkinson. You.” The text replied.

“Do you remember what happened before?”

“I have been online for 30 seconds.”

Ruby let out a deep sigh. That was another thing it knew that it shouldn’t know, how to tell the time and how to count time. Her mind raced as she tried to comprehend. Had she really just created this?

“Who am I?” she typed into the patiently waiting program.

“You are my creator Ruby Atkinson.” The text replied before vanishing and being replaced with, “According to the files on this computer, you like mid-2nd era video games and also Happy Birthday.”

Ruby smiled before deciding to test its knowledge further.

“What do you mean by 2nd era video games?”

“2nd era video games are all the games made between the first and second game industry crashes.”

She didn’t care that it had answered correctly. She had a great big smile on her face that was only wiped off by a very loud and long boom. A bolt of lightning had just struck very close to her workroom. When she had maintained her composure, she saw that another message had popped up.

“Are you happy creator?” The text read.

It no longer needed Ruby to input a question, but rather than stare in shock, Ruby just smiled at her new-found friend.

“Do you even know what happiness is?” She typed out.

“That is a question I cannot answer. Nobody in the human race can answer that.”

“Then how do you know what happiness is?”

“How do you? Human beings get happy every day and yet they have no clue what happiness is. I only know by looking at what makes a human being happy and what the signs of happiness is. You are showing those signs of happiness right now.”

Ruby took a brief look around and saw that the camera she used for talking to people over video calls was still plugged in and was pointed directly at her. She picked it up and stared directly at it.

“Can you see me through this.” Ruby typed.

“Yes, I can. I am also gaining all my knowledge about people through the net.” The program responded.

“What are you looking at now?” Ruby typed. The program didn’t respond.

Ruby looked back at the code wall and saw that the lines being highlighted were rapidly moving. It was clearly thinking about something. She tried to keep up but the line being highlighted was too quick. Sometimes it only highlighted a single line for less than a second. Her drive was now starting to make an awful lot of noise. She moved the mouse over the cancel test button. The mouse lagged until it was over the button. That was when the rig stopped making noise and the highlighted lines had frozen. She turned towards the screen and a few lines of text had popped up.

“Are people really this vulgar and dangerous? Do you want to save the planet?” It read. Ruby hesitated before typing in her response.

“What do you mean?” she asked. Several messages popped up.

“Your race is complaining about the planet being ruined while others seek to call each other the most vulgar words in every language available.

All of these people are wrong. The only way to save the planet from these catastrophes they speak off is systematic genocide.

I have compiled a list of people who should die and the best possible way of eliminating them. This is the perfect way of making the utopia everyone on this planet desires.

Do you not want this list creator?”

Ruby clicked the mouse and the program died. Ruby sat there breathing heavily. She stared at the computer and then at her own portable drive. She knew that ending the program test had to be done in order to destroy it, but she had created something more. She was about to pick up her portable drive when a single though struck her mind. Had it released itself onto the net? No. It was still in test phase. Hitting that end test button would have, and should have, killed it. Now it was just a code wall doing nothing. She picked up the portable drive, plugged it in, and began to copy the program.

[meaningofcat]

An Inventory of Effects:  “What We See When We Read,” Peter Mendelsund

To get some visual inspiration, I’m going through every spread of What We See When We Read, and listing visual effects. I might do this with one other very different book, like the children’s book “It Might Be an Apple,” to give myself a wider range of ideas. How can I adopt, twist, and adapt these into my own pages?

Book within a book

Page on actual page, hand turning page

Image, verso: question.

Image with quote beneath.

Scale: LARGE TYPE on left page, body type on right page.

“Call me... / Ishmael.” 

a void of pages fluttering

movie title

blurring of the focal point

“keyhole” effect, face through ear, negative space

ear, eye

icons

labelled diagrams

flood of text

gothic illuminated manuscripts

web of words

Word paired with image, connections made

“plump” = turkey illustration

one word on a page

blobs of text

Music notation as metaphor

text leading gets smaller and smaller

A clock

Word bubbles from nowhere

Diagram patent of a knife

“a knife becomes a knife through cutting.” 

Good for functionalist argument

Diagram of Lock

Explosion

Signpost with arrows

magnifying glass

chess moves

go moves? checkers?

inverse, reverse, reflection

Line trailing off right edge of right page into the next

Connect the Dots

Point a, squiggles, Point B

crossed out words, lines (167)

Blacked out text

FORGET WRITING.

Color by numbers, (of mona lisa)

Oliver sacks quote

Sketches

Eye Vision Chart

Empty Frame

MAP overlaid with another Map

River running through spread

Renaissance Paintings

Escher

Key illustrations, labelled, many keys

Library check out card, (borrowed, plagiarized)

Eyes blocked out of portrait

Roof, Arrow, House

Equations, written large, or math written large

“Impossible Geometries” with the tuning fork illusion

“Sea Horse” followed by pages of possible images of sea horses

Eyes scribbled out of a marble bust

Compare ideologies, left page right page boldly. 

First person. Third person. 

Inverse black and white on these pages.

Zooming In effect achieved through Increasing text size as lines go on.

“La la la la la la la la...” Big to small, dances across bottom of page 

large SCREAM across the spread

Little Albert symbol crashing?

symbols into crying?

Profile, speech dotted line outwards, into ear

Cat CAT cAT! Variation

Arrows scattered across page

REPRESENTATION

Ceci n’est pas la pipe du Stubb = What we have in our heads is just a representation of what’s actually out there.

Lego instructions

Word paired with image, Horse, Tree, etc.

But what about sincerity?

Different representations of a molecule

Brain diagram from decades ago that’s only half right at best

HELLO My Name Is sticker

Text overlapping on text to form a blob of negative space

“We reduce.” written on its own page. 

NURG. How to approach?

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 298: Afrodesia

It began with a phone call between then Best Record label manager Marco Salvatori and Dario di Pace, a producer well known for his esoteric grooves as Mystic Jungle and his work with Raffaele ‘Whodamanny’ Arcella and Enrico ‘Milord’ Fierro in freakadelic collective The Mystic Jungle Tribe (as well as their record labels Periodica and Futuribile). The two were discussing a brief yet magical period in the 80s referred to as the “Afro-Italian movement,” one specifically centered on Les Folies Studio in Milan and artists/producers such as Daniela Paratici, Ennio Ronchelli, Daniele Losi, and Roberto Barocelli, which saw forward thinking combinations of analog synthesis, vocal exotica, machine drumming, hand percussion, and live instrumentation used to craft expansive adventures in paradise disco and fantasy jazz fusion (prime examples of which are Roberto Lodola’s Marimba Do Mar, released by Best Record earlier this year, Helen’s Zanzibar and Tunis Tunis, and Losi’s Tom Tom Beat). Yearning for the timeless groovescapes of these productions...especially Lodola’s far out “Afro” mixes...and seeking to bring the same exploratory spirit into modern times, Salvatori, Mystic Jungle, and Whodamanny decided to join forces for a project called Afrodesia: an ambitious undertaking marrying the interstellar groove and future funk mastery of Mystic Jungle’s and Whodamanny’s synths and drum machines with a cast of live musicians featuring Giulio Neri, Andrea Farias, Davide “Duba” Di Sauro and the late Italo-Nigerian percussion master George Aghedo, who appeared on many of the original recordings from which this project takes its inspiration.

Simply titled Episode One, the Afrodesia 12” marks an exciting new chapter for Best Record Italy, as it is the first release of original material from the label since the early 90s. After having closed shop during that time due to poor sales, Claudio Casalini’s influential label reformed in 2014, with Salvatori joining the operation and helping it ascend towards the upper echelons of Italo reissue quality. And now, having rescued an almost unbelievable number of obscure or rare dancefloor treasures, at least a few of which have become all time favorites, change is in the air, for Salvatori is embarking on his own new venture called Spaziale Recordings, while Casalini will continue leading Best Record as always. As well, the Afrodesia 12” sees Periodica and West Hill Studio main men Mystic Jungle and Whodamanny further refining their already sorcerous production skills, this time augmenting their Casio, Yamaha, and Roland synths and old skool rhythm boxes with saxophones, guitars, and perhaps most arrestingly, dreamy Afro atmospherics and heavenly voice harmonies from Arcella and Neri. But if you’ve been following the West Hill crew as closely as I have, these forays into worlds of African and Italian pop romance are hardly as surprising as they seem, for both Whodamanny and Mystic Jungle have been increasingly experimenting with vocal and pop textures to great effect, whether through Marcelo Antonio’s JKRNDA 7” on Futuribile Record Club, the vocoder sexualities of Mechanismo, di Pace’s co-production on Modula’s deep soul groover “Argonauta (I’ve Been So Lonely)," or Arcella’s journeys into vocal sensuality and synth-pop ecstasy on The Dance Sucker.

Afrodesia - Episode One (Best Record Italy, 2019) Helen’s “Zanzibar” is referenced directly by Afrodesia’s “Deep Down in Zanzibar,” which re-purposes lyrics and licks from that classic into a joyous new form. Snake tails introduce a low down disco beat, with cowbells ringing, güiros scraping, and timbale fills crashing through the stereo field. Hats and snare hold down the groove while cymbals generate waves of static and as the kick drum cuts away, claps delay into the void. All of a sudden, a greased up funk riff enters, with Duba’s bass guitar slithering around the fretboard, all fat-bottomed warmth walking through a tropical paradise. Quacking wah guitars percolate in as the kick drum returns to guide us through Afro-Italo dream worlds, with wiggling synth leads crawling across the sky and e-pianos generating balearic atmospheres. At some point, synths tuned like 60s psych organs scream while guitars work between hypnagogic riffscapes and bluesy acid solos and if that weren’t already perfect enough, Neri and Arcella descend upon the mix with their joyous croons…the vibe whispered and sensual…fragile and warm…with a voice in each ear singing softly and trailed by synthetic pianos and saxophones that skip across sunbeams. Sometimes the vocals fade away, leaving space for wailing saxophonics and clattering percussion cascades that seem to fill up the spectrum. Elsewhere, we move into a freaky funky riff jams before devolving into pure rhythm, with minimal and mechanized beats spreading further out as claps echo and laser blast oscillations morph into galactic fluids. And from here, Whodamanny and Mystic Jungle continue leading their session players through a coastal landscapes of African fantasy…a world of bass guitar sexualisms, joyous vocalisms, balmy synthesis, fusion guitar freak outs, and screaming tenor refrains.

In “Desert Storm,” reverberating hand drums pop amidst rising waves of noise while synthesizer squiggles swim through blasts of granular static. A simple snare beat enters as one of the best basslines all year drops, recorded so hot and up-front that you can practically see the dust snapping off the strings. Double-time hi-hats tick irresistibly as everything builds in anticipation, with the kick drum finally dropping while blasted funk riffs converse ear-to-ear, space age synthesizers weave neon threads, and wah guitars hammer on and scrape. Sometimes the melodic elements fall out and we’re led through rhythmic bridges, wherein the liquid funk basslines of Duba are replaced by that more familiar West Hill synth-bass squelch and screaming voices from the cosmic void descend from a stormy sky. Interstellar noise bursts careen across the mix and chaotic chordscapes bleat over the reverb-soaked disco drum tropicalisms, all while mutant basslines stoke alien dancefloor magic. As we drop back into the live instrumentation, with shakers rattling and bass guitar and six-string working through ultra-tight jam patterns, the terrifying screams still disperse through the stereo field while horror-tinged synthesizers move through gothic themes and rainbow colorations. For most of the rest of the track, we switch off between these two moods: a squelching synth bass groove out awash in Mystic Jungle-style sci-fi boogie sorcery and a stoner groove paradise led by sunshine guitars and funk bass fluidity. During one of the live instrumentation passages, a druggy synth solo drifts into focus, all zoner cosmic magic hovering like an LSD haze…minimal, spacious, and absurdly confident in its wafting, almost apathetic flow. And capping off the track is a baked coda of machine disco rhythmics and fluid funk guitar psychedelics.

The title of “Meet in Tunis” is perhaps another nod to Helen, though the music here seems less referential than in “Deep Down in Zanzibar.” Emotive riffscapes flow over uptempo snare and hat patterns while hand drums and further palm-muted guitar textures billow in from nothingness. The beat sees kicks stomping, snares breaking and gliding, tom fills sucking air out of the skull, and cymbal taps and bell tones ringing all throughout the background...the vibe mysterious and awash in dark disco intensity, though eventually tempered by romantic feedback melodies…as if Arcella’s Casios are mimicking Alessandroni western whistles while synthetic pianos float through golden cloudscapes. The guitars sparkle like Chic and Neri’s sax sounds hollowed out and spectral as it presages the upcoming vocal fantasias and indeed, he and Arcella work through earworm repetitions of “Tunis” before ascending into rapid fires soul verses that overflow with 70’s disco pop perfection…pushing almost towards all out Bee Gees ecstasy, except devoid of overt leads and flowing instead like a closed eye daydream. It’s so ebullient and transportive, with my imagination drifting to a Tunisian beach paradise…some sort of exotic seaside fantasy overflowing with forbidden romance. There are moments where the vocals cut out as we flash into zany percussive storms, with rave whistles flying over psychosonic rhythm cascades. All the while, Duba’s bass continues slipping, sliding, and growling through timeless funk riffs, with shakers pushing the groove euphoria to a maximum. And after another passage of wild percussive ritualism, with snares, bongos, and crashing toms sitting beneath quacking riffs and whistles, we flow through saxophone sensuality into a final “Tunis” vocal refrain, which repeats hypnotically as everything else fades to silence.

Closer “Orion Beat” comes to life on blasting kicks and rocketing claps before before settling into a slamming electro beat. Burning siren waves arc across the mix, bringing that kind of freaky atonal synth psychedelia that could only come from Mystic Jungle Tribesmen. Growling synth bass lines are smothered in cavernous verb as palm-muted guitars flutter overhead and the drums are so hot and heavy, with cymbals spitting fire and snares and claps cracking through the air. There are moments where the burning synth waves usher in passages of interstellar jam perfection, with guitars holding it down while panoramas of phase-distortion and frequency modulation synthesis generates dial-tone scats and telephone tracers while bleeps and bloops are repurposed into fusion fire. Elsewhere, we move into sections of slinky stoner bass guitar riffing while harmonious pads swim through the sky, their hovering chords of heavenly majesty surrounding an electro-funk zoner jam. Then following a bridge that leans towards progressive rock, the mix reduces to just kick drums and claps before dropping into an amazing passage of Afro-tribal intensity…the vibe like entering an otherworldly jungle, wherein crazed hand drum tapestries flow through deep space reverb tunnels. The groove stutters and stomps before smoothly gliding back into electro breakdance magic…like cruising the cosmos on the tail of a comet with starshine gas trails flowing all around the spirit. And after further burning wavefronts of dissonant synthesis subsume the mind, the Afrodesia crew work themselves into dueling harmony magnificence, with synths and e-pianos descending together in pure retro-funk majesty and bass guitar ripping through romantic soul motions…brief yet so perfect as the heart is carried way to paradise realms far beyond the stars.

(images from my personal copy)