#this completely ethereal otherworldly terrifying energy.
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Caleb lowers himself to the rough, uneven ground and rests his head upon its rocky surface. Bright blue eyes are drawn to the mesmerizing display of sparkling stars conjured by Gale on the magical barrier of his amber dome. Each twinkling light seems to dance and swirl in its own unique pattern, creating a whimsical atmosphere that captures one’s attention completely. The dome itself glows with an otherworldly arcane energy, adding an ethereal quality to the already enchanting scene. “Show off,” he mutters quietly, but there is an underlying tone of fondness in his words.
“I know they are a rowdy bunch,” and occasionally entirely unserious when seriousness is needed the most, “but their heart has always been in the right place.” They are too good for me, and while the statement remains unspoken, it is written all across Caleb’s face… etched across his features in a mixture of admiration and self-doubt. Life is hardly an exam that is pass-fail, Caleb. “Ach, I hope not,” he says. It is ironic that the very beliefs he tirelessly tries to instill in his students, Caleb himself struggles to fully embrace. He can speak the words with conviction, but deep down he knows he still grapples with self-acceptance.
He continues to listen intently, the weight of Gale's words settling into the dome like dust. Caleb’s eyes softened as he took in the mutual vulnerability laid bare before him. A silent understanding that passes between them, a recognition of shared pain and longing masked by stoicism expressed in their own unique way. So different, yet achingly similar at the same time. “Ich verstehe— I understand. Home is not always a place, but a feeling.” A sentiment that once eluded Caleb now resonates within him stronger than ever before. His life intertwined with the love and presence of those closest to his heart. A terrifying thought.
What a thought that is, isn't it? Gale dawdles on it, the two of them as children yet unsullied and doe-eyed. What would happen, he wonders, had time only wound their paths a century sooner? Perhaps not a thing at all, their guilt and their scars yet plain about them, but for a moment, at least, perhaps all would feel...kinder. Gale eyes the magic, gold glowing, and feels a floating burst of whimsy.
"My, that certainly explains a great deal if I'm to be honest. The fondness you all hold for one another isn't one nursed with just lanceboard and tea. How you all rally and endure in our most dire of moments--" Gale pauses. "For what it's worth, they aren't any more eager to leave you either. Nor am I." The moment lingers. It's as though Caleb, Gale ventures quietly, had just split open his chest like a waiting, bleeding, and bare cadaver. He hadn't expected such a topic, so lost in his walls and his mask as he is. He is a man of composure, the father to stoic and the portrait of calm, and to hear such tells of regret and sorrow... "Life is hardly an exam that is pass-fail, Caleb."
(Relax. Be gentle with this man all a wet, open wound. His soul peers shyly from all the skin he's peeling. Gale eyes go doughy. He's trusting you.)
"Ah. Seeing as how we're bearing ours hearts tonight," he stirs again, voice a touch dreamy as he conjures the stars to the roof, "I should confess that I'm perfectly content where I currently am. Of course, I could do with a proper bed and the comfort of a not collapsed library, but despite the derelict halls and the concrete nipping at my rear--" here, Gale dislodges said piece "--this is the most at home I've felt since, well, before my slumber." Oh. Lonely, lonely man, and a vapid thing, too..."I would rather be here. Before and now, home felt quite empty."
#☼*・゚ Friends — ↳ recitedemise#☼*・゚ Interaction — ↳ gale dekarios#☼*・゚ Verse — ↳ the mighty nein#☼*・゚ Muse — ↳ caleb widogast
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muse battle edition.
fight honorably / fight dirty / prefer close-quarters / prefer range / chat during / go silent / low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance / attack in bursts / attack steadily / go for the kill / aim to disarm / fight defensively / strike first / provoke easily / provoke their opponent / tease / get visibly frustrated / shout while attacking / use strategy / focus on their battle / experience conflicting thoughts during battle / rush in recklessly / try to read their opponent before fighting / fight wildly / fight calmly / fight with anger / fight with excitement / fight because they have to / fight because they want to / fight without regard to wounds / run away when wounded / hide wounds / take a blow to protect another / prefer a blade / prefer a gun / prefer a bow / prefer a shield / prefer a spear / prefer a personalized weapon / prefer magic or spells / prefer brawling / their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional / transform for battle / fight as they appear / rely on strength / rely on speed / use everything they have / hide their full potential / exhaust quickly / high stamina / doubt their strength / proceed with caution / behave arrogantly / brag after landing a hit / belittle foes abilities / use psychological tactics / use brute strength / avoid civilians / strike down civilians / damage surroundings / avoid damaging surroundings / signature fighting style / making it up as they go / mastered skillset / learning their skillset / fancy footwork / sloppy footwork / messy fighter / elegant fighter / accept defeat / refuse defeat / beg for mercy / compliment their opponent / insult their opponent / use unnecessary movements ( flips, twirls ) / move efficiently / barely move / prefer to dodge / prefer to block / defend their blindside / has no blindside / use all available advantages / strictly use one main method / play around / hold back / fight ruthlessly / show mercy / wait for opponent to be ready / strike when opponent isn’t ready / fear death / fear pain / fear killing / has PTSD / avoid fighting / has lost a fight / has won a fight / has killed / refused to kill / want to die standing / would succumb slowly
#* 𝄞 . medusa is given a blade to the neck for daring to be mad about it : ‟ study . „#* 𝄞 . this is the hour i greet myself with the buck - eyed bravado of roadkill : ‟ dash game . „#vanya hardly got any of the hand-to-hand training her siblings did#( she was only forced to spar with them occasionally‚ as punishment‚ and was definitely never expected to win those fights )#so pretty much all of her 'battle skills' rely on her powers that are still being honed#in verses like me and k's apocalypse pals verse or vigilante verse after a year or two‚ she's pretty confident in it#and a lot more elegant than we see her in canon? just like. exudes this extreme grace when she's wv.#this completely ethereal otherworldly terrifying energy.#but generally speaking ... she's not that. half the time when she's using her powers she's dissociating.#regardless of verse she doesn't generally speak at all when she's using her powers so things like taunting opponents doesn't happen#she's so incredibly powerful but also so very new at fighting and i think thats neat
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@revouries sorry it took so long but here is my full list of song recs! Ps - it is loooooong
So I’m still very surprised anyone is even interested in this but its a really cool thing to share! This playlist has taken me close to a decade to create and I’ve been asked to share it with you all! Fair warning - heavy spoilers, and a lot is based on ship angst, don’t come for me. Also I have only read TDA twice and its been maybe a year since I did so I don’t remember everything perfectly. I had a lot more time with TMI because I read them for years and years. TID & TLH don’t really have soundtracks for me, because of the time period these modern songs really feel wrong when I read those series.
TMI :
Battle in Hotel Dumort in CoB -
- I’m So Sorry - Imagine Dragons
The pace of this song, the sinister notes, the danger it invokes just brings this scene alive. But also, this is the first time Clary feels like a Shadowhunter. She fights and its not terrible. She feels powerful instead of like a liability. Shes able to hold her own while talking to a clan of vampires. Its badass and fits the song.
Seelie Court kiss scene in CoA -
- The Violet Hour - The Civil Wars
Its such a beautifully haunting song, its sweet on the one hand but something wrong lies underneath it. It is so so perfect, because Clace is getting what they’ve wanted, but by hurting those around them. They get to give in for once, without the guilt attached, they have someone to blame for all this. But it ends on this very uneasy note, because it isnt right. So much of it is not right and Clace are not satisfied because it wasn’t a real kiss or real declaration of love
Jace and Clary after the meeting with the Seelie Queen in the Institute in CoA -
- Black Flies - Ben Howard
This is a very Jace song for me. Its quiet, peaceful, but the words are hurtful and honest. “No man is an island” fits him so perfectly at this time in his life where he feels abandoned by Valentine, abandoned by Mayrse, abandoned by literally everyone so he wants to make it worse by committing to Clary. She is so unsure of him because of the repercussions it would cause and he wants her in this moment because of the repercussions. He wants to isolate himself so he cant be hurt by those he loves.
Jace meets Valentine on the boat CoA -
- Silence Worth Breaking - Brooke Annibale
This is where Valentine really shows off how manipulative he is, and as a reader you start to believe how easy it would be to get around to his way of thinking. imo this is the best villain CC has written, because you find yourself agreeing with him sometimes and he makes it difficult to argue from a different perspective. The first time I read this scene I was convinced he was going to go with Valentine. The song is foreboding, it is anxious, and makes you think something bad is around the corner, which at this point in the book you feel like something bad is bound to happen
Simon is about to die on the back of Luke’s truck end of CoA-
- Wait - M83
This just perfectly conveys the grief and fear and guilt Clary feels when she thinks Simon is about to die. She brought him into this life, he turned into a vampire because of her, he was tortured by Valentine because of her and just as they saved him he is going to die. Its the loss of innocence and childhood for Clary. Simon is the last piece of it stripped away from her. First her mum, then her belief system in her whole world, then Luke, and now Simon. She is stripped all the way down to the bone of her identity and this scene is quick, but intense for this reason for me.
Clary and Jace meet up for lunch at the end of CoA -
- Distance - Christina Perri
This is such a sad song, and the sweetness of Christina Perri’s voice pairs beautifully in this scene with a feeling of a bittersweet kind of resigned acceptance. Clary had wanted so bad for Jace to let her go, she had convinced herself that her feelings weren’t that strong. And now here she is accepting her true feelings and ready to kind of wrap Jace around herself like a security blanket and he tells her exactly what she wanted to hear earlier. Except now she has to be a big girl and face her life without anyone holding her hand. She has to grow up and thats what makes this scene so sad, this is Clary realising its time to grow up.
Clary and Jace find Ithuriel in CoG -
- Goodbye Godric - Nathan Barr
This song was always ethereal and otherworldly, the notes are awe inspiring and convey this grief that is so abstract and not individualistic, it is beyond the human experience. Clary and Jace’s complete altruism and empathy in this scene matches with the grieving tones, how helpless they feel at this beautiful creatures pain, and how much they want to do something but they don’t know what. Then Ithuriel shows them visions and its even worse than they imagined. The misery that exists in these walls caused by Valentine, the waste of energy and life and soul is amplified by the music. The music soars as Ithuriel is set free, and the manor home crumbles.
Clary and Jace make out session outside the newly ruined Wayland Manor CoG -
- Maybe Tomorrow - Stereophonics
This wild abandon kissing perfectly matches the mood and pace of this song. Its all over the place, its messy, its confusing. Its giving into pure passion. Its abandoning any pretences they have built up and watching reality crash back down on them.
Isabelle wants Simon to distract her after Max dies in CoG -
- Not Everything Was Better In The Past - Fink
This is such a tenderly played song, and is easy on the ears, but there is a rawness there. Isabelle is completely stripped away, raw grief and anger and guilt eating away at her. When she lets Simon in she is ferocious and wants to show him her toughness. But Simon sees through it all to a scared young girl who is lost in this sea of grief. Its a sweet Sizzy moment
Jace telling Clary he loves her for the first time in CoG -
- Leave a Light On (ACOUSTIC) - Tom Walker
Jace shouldering the responsibility of finding Valentine by himself, essentially sacrificing himself to the cause, hes grief stricken, and yet feels barred from that grief. I know we experienced this scene from Clary’s POV but this song works so well from his POV. He wants to tell the girl he loves how he feels, he wants one night with her to feel normal and feel loved, and to pretend just for a little while that there is nothing wrong with that. This very stripped version of the song is much much much more raw, and that’s what Jace feels like in this scene, all the walls are down and he wants to show his real face to this one girl
Clary showing off her rune skills in the council chamber in CoG -
- I Found - Amber Run
This was the first scene I imagined from a filmmaking perspective, how to best present this scene. I imagined this entire scene from Jocelyn’s POV, frame by frame, as she walks into the council room very quietly and watches her baby walk up and address everyone in desperation, voice shaking but standing her ground. Grown, bigoted, adults judging her and are fearful but she is still showing them what she’s worth. I imagined Jocelyn’s entire world view shifting because she is in awe of this powerful girl Clary has become. She watches her daughter no longer as a little girl but as a formidable Shadowhunter that could handle the cards she had been dealt in life. Just a very transformative moment and pivotal in how we see Clary in the TSC universe
Lilith takes over Jace’s mind and disappears with Sebastian at the end of CoFA-
- I’ll Keep Coming - Low Roar
This song starts out so uneasy, it cant settle down, and that’s exactly how I feel when Jace sends Clary downstairs. I want to scream at her to stay, but knowing Lilith would always take over no matter what. Its a very dark moment, because no one wants to lose control of themselves and it must have been pretty scary at first. Its an anxious scene, paired with an anxious song
Magnus takes happy memories away in CoLS -
- Howl - Jake Houlsby
Magnus is looking very sad when he does this, especially what he says to Simon. Its such a knowing look, Magnus is no stranger to this kind of sorrow, but still to be witness to it over and over must take its toll. It just makes me think of the endless road stretching out ahead of him and how lonely and terrifying that must feel for him. Just a beautiful song to go with a sad moment in this scene
Clary at the Faerie club with Jace and Sebastian CoLS -
- Faded - Alan Walker
- Darkside - Alan Walker
At this point in the story you feel a lot like Clary is getting too comfortable and is maybe losing sight of the mission she’s on. These two songs are very club sounding to me, and tonally fits the mood of the chapter. Clary is quite literally lost in that moment with the Faerie drugs and the dancing and the atmosphere
Clary dancing with Sebastian CoLS -
- Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood
First of all lyrically….it cannot get more perfect. “Go ahead and cry little girl nobody does it like you do, I know that you got daddy issues. And if you were my little girl, Id do whatever I could do…” it just conveys the creepiness of Sebastians interactions with Clary and how weird she felt when he was dancing with her and how wrong it felt. This is a very short moment in this chapter but it really creeped me out. And this song conveys perfectly this feeling of haziness of the Faerie drugs and this uneasiness that surrounds Sebastian
Simon drinks from Isabelle CoLS -
- Harvest Love - Tash Sultana
This is a pretty soulful, sensual song. And when Simon drinks from Isabelle and he describes the euphoria that comes with that, the description of how his nerves react to the fresh blood just remind me of the part in this song where the drums and music soars the highest (start around 3:32, and it reaches its peak around 4:48) its honestly one of the sexiest scenes CC has written, even including all the Jemma scenes
Magnus and Alec break up in CoLS -
- Evergreen - Ben Howard
First time reading this I was so so angry at Alec, and felt the sorrow and anger coming off Magnus. This song is very dark, and very sinister. Magnus completely misunderstood what Alec was trying to do, and applied the most sinister meaning to his actions. It is their perfect breakup song imo full of angst
Clary traps the Heavenly Fire into her sword in CoHF -
- Outro - M83
This is another scene I imagined cinematically. The first half of the song is where Clary slowly makes her way over to Jace and she suddenly has faith in herself that she can do this. Then we watch her take Jace’s hands as the radioactive wind sounds start and the flames are swirling around them but not touching them. Cut to Magnus and Luke seeing the colour on the horizon, and the flash that shows its over. Cut back to Clary drawing the Heavenly Fire into the sword as the music swells around her. The words are so so powerful, and they always felt very ethereal to me “I’m the King of my own land” This is Clary fully embracing her power and fully utilising it. Its no longer something separate from her, but she IS her power.
Clary killing Sebastian, pretty much a lot of the scenes before the time jump CoHF-
- Saturn (both acoustic and original version) - Sleeping At Last
This song is definitely an end of film/book / end of heroes journey material. Simon sacrificing himself so they can get back, Clary killing Sebastian and forgiving him, Clary scattering the ashes of Sebastian and finally grieving the past years trauma (all of the TMI journey), the Faeries being condemned by the Clave and Helen getting exiled. Its beautiful, its sad, its momentous, its not a regular song.
Alec finds Magnus in Edom in CoHF -
- I Of The Storm - Of Monsters and Men
The steady drum beat adds a sense of steadiness and calmness in this song. Its not a joyful getting back together but they’re both glad the other is alive and are both forgiving each other. For me, this is when I truly started shipping Malec. The growth, the strength of character begins from this moment. This is when they become a couple I love because this is when they commit to each other flaws and all
Isabelle introduces herself to Simon at the end of CoHF -
- Golden Dandelions - Barns Courtney
Isabelle has always felt like a full punch character, no half measures and all that. The feeling Simon describes when he first spots this beautiful girl walking directly up to him is how this song starts, for me at least. The drums, the barely contained excitement, the curiosity, and faint recognition. This song is a full punch song right from the get go and it felt like such a remarkable Isabelle moment
After Jocelyn & Luke’s wedding in COHF -
- From Gold - Novo Amor
It is such a bittersweet, and peaceful song. There are so many endings in this scene, and so many new beginnings. They are all grieving, one way or another, and are all allowing themselves to evolve. Their journey is over, and at the end of this book I had this sense of saying goodbye to these characters (retiring them so to speak) because I wasn’t sure how much they would be involved with the future of the TSC world. Im glad they are still a big part of it, but they will never be the main focus again.
TDA:
Julian and Emma dance in LM -
- Give Me Love - Ed Sheeran
The sexual tension, and the dread they both feel because of their feelings just makes this scene so dramatic to me, and this song softens it a little. Especially if you are re-reading the series you feel this tenderness because they so badly wanted to avoid falling in love
Mark and Kieran in the Hunt -
- Dance Me To The End of Love - The Civil Wars
This is a pretty offbeat quirky song, a little sad, a little wistful, a little mournful, sensual, but tones of wildly abandoning all you know and giving into baser desires. Whenever Mark thinks of his time with Kieran in the Hunt, his memories sound like this song. They experienced very high highs, and very low lows. They were degraded, the lowest you could possibly feel as a living creature. Yet they were riding into the night, sleeping under the stars in places only known to Faeries. There was no one watching them, and no one to stop them from being together. There is tenderness in their relationship, but also knowledge that they are only together because they have no one else. Its happiness without truly feeling like you have a choice about it. You have to be happy together because you cant find this happiness elsewhere. They are forced into being in love a little bit, because the alternative is so much worse. This is one of the reasons why I couldn’t ship them at first, because they hadnt really chosen each other. Only when they were presented with other options and they till chose each other did I start seeing their potential.
Julian and Emma on the beach LM -
- Next To You - Of Rust & Bone
This scene completely took me by surprise, and is very unlike CC because love scenes normally take place quite late into any series she has. This one was filled with anxiety, and tension because the characters quite literally fell into their feelings. There was no forethought, no sense of taking stock of what they were doing. And they ended up feeling such different things about it afterwards. So for me this songs darker moods perfectly pairs with this scene
Kieran and Mark argue/break up LM & LoS -
- Fade Away - Tom Walker
This song has such raw power, such dark emotion and anger and a sense of betrayal that it perfectly captures their emotionally charged scenes. Mark can never be the same Mark that belonged to Kieran when he had no one, because now he has his family. And Kieran is still the same man who has no one but Mark. I hated him the first time I read LM and most of LoS but their chemistry is hard to resist. Especially as they evolve as characters as well as a couple. They are wild and unmoored sometimes and there’s something exciting about characters you just cant pin down.
Emma & Jules’ strained relationship LM & LoS -
- 9 Crimes - Damian Rice
When Emma is “with” Mark there is this strange chemistry between her and Julian. Both have hurt each other at different times, but this was really like a stalemate. Neither could really move on, and both were angry at eachother. As more and more people found out/realised about the feelings they had were more than parabatai this tension grew. Because they’re not just falling in love, they are also actively choosing to hurt one another. They are certainly not an example of a healthy relationship but I felt in some way they were the realest. Because sometimes relationships hurt and sometimes you do things you have to do even if that isnt what’s best for your relationship. This song perfectly captures this push and pull they have, and how falling in love wasn’t blissful happiness for them. It was pain and secrets and hurting.
Annabel rising, killing Malcolm LoS -
- As It Was - Hozier
Since we’re watching this scene from above, a very unnatural and cinematic perspective, the scene feels unreal. Like it was a dream and didn’t happen. I felt genuine fear and uneasiness when Annabel is slowly brought back to life, skin growing over old bones. This song has notes that aren’t usually arranged together, instruments that are usually a bigger part of a quartet, and somehow that arrangement feels just a little wrong. It feels different, sinister, and uneasy. It feels like its missing several instruments, or some notes have been played incorrectly. Hozier’s voice is his best in this song, very strained, but so controlled, bringing forth very intense emotions
Christina and Mark at the revel LoS (I couldn’t remember if this was in LoS or QOAAD) -
- Now You’re Gone - Tom Walker & Zara Larsson
Christina really let herself go during this scene, and we see a completely different side to her. She is adventurous, risky, and she would make anyone say “fuck it lets do this” I always liked Christina but I always felt she was very predictable until this point. We see how intensely she is interested in Faeries, and how personally invested she is in their culture. She allows herself to be swept up, and embraces it rather than fears it. She honestly seems fearless here, and is the definition of temptation. She is quite literally tempting Mark, and its sexy a f
Jules & Emma burn down the church LoS -
- Esmeralda - Ben Howard
This was the first time their relationship excited me, because during this scene I fully expected they would go into full thirst mode but they didn’t. They were still very sensual and sexual and intense, but in a very very different way. There is something attractive about someone who’s willing to burn the world down, who has a little bit of an anarchist side. Its human nature to feel some attraction to these traits, and this scene definitely stirred feelings in me
Emma fights Fal LoS -
- Put It On Me - Matt Maeson
This song both tonally and in its pacing elevates this scene to new levels. Its not a typical battle song, it has a steady pace. But Emma’s description of how the battle is stripped down because of the rain, how she prefers this kind of fight where its her, her weapon and the elements. Its pure, and we get to see Emma in full fighter mode. She is an extension of Cortana, and they belong together. This is without a doubt my favourite fight scene to date. It just brings alive the visuals in such a dynamic way. Very storyboard-able.
Julian holding Livvy as she dies LoS -
- Losing Your Memory - Ryan Star
This song is harrowing, and its just pure pain, raw grief balled into one intense song. The lyrics just pull you into Julian’s mental state “wake up, its time, little girl, wake up” just kills me. As the music intensifies and the singer is practically screaming the lyrics it just feels like that’s what it must have been like inside of Julian’s mind. He wasn’t screaming out loud but his mind must have been very loud
Julian and Emma shower together QOAAD -
- Promise - Ben Howard
Julian dry heaving because he doesnt know how to cry. Fucking heartbreaking in a very quiet way. After the noise of loss, the quiet moments where you have to face grief is devastating. Emma being an anchor, holding him in place and trying to keep the world away from him so he doesnt hurt anymore is just harrowing. They’re just kids but the grief they feel is so adult. And when you lose someone like that, and someone is there for you that solidifies so much in that relationship. They become a part of something you can never let go of. Even if that relationship doesnt last, they will always be apart of that memory. And Emma sticking by him, despite the danger and promises they have made themselves is proof that she is the one for him
Kieran and Christina dance QOAAD -
- Senorita - Shawn Mendes & Camilla Cabello
This song is sensual, its sexual, its got hooks that quite literally sound like orgasms its such a playful song. When I read this scene this song popped in my head right away. When Christina is dancing with Mark its the same kind of feeling I got from her at the revel, except this time there is no supernatural influence, its just her and her feelings. It was a sexy scene, and when Kieran walks in we all expected something very different. What followed is what elevates this scene, Christina has no clue how to react to Kieran, and yet she is mesmerised by him. She dances with him in a way we would never have imagined her doing this in LM. It shows evolution of character, for all three of them. And the fact that Mark is watching, and he’s not angry just makes this scene even sexier. You can practically feel the sexual tension in the air coming off the pages of the book.
Malec wedding QOAAD -
- That Girl Is You - Dave Matthews Band
This song brings me so much peace, the kind of peace that comes with knowing someone for years, and relying on them, knowing they are a permanent fixture in your life. Its exciting, but in a quiet way. Its a very atypical wedding song, because of the unusual style of singing. But I think it represents Malec really well at this point in their journey, they have gotten over many obstacles, often themselves, in this relationship. Their entire world is changing, and they are taking massive steps and making some pretty big sacrifices as people for this cause. Being Consul isnt going to be a smooth life for Alec with Magnus as a husband and a warlock for a child. But this is what he wants, and this is what he wants Shadowhunters to reflect and be going forward. This song is a very peaceful time in the entirety of TSC, and gave me a similar feeling to the end of TMI
#tsc#song recs#tmi#the mortal instruments#tda#the dark artifices#cc#cassie clare#cassandra clare#the shadowhunter chronicles
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LEGACY OF THE KLTUA-LYMONZS - THE GALAXY FIGHTS BACK (A SUMMARY OF EVENTS)
LEGACY OF THE KLTUA-LYMONZS - THE GALAXY FIGHTS BACK (A SUMMARY OF EVENTS)
THE OUTER RIM OF THE MILKY WAY GALAXY
LOCATION: ETHEREAL SUB-DIMENSION
The Galactic Union’s best kept secret "The Psi-Being Strike Force", which comprised of psychic soldiers from both the Order of The Blessed and their unorthodox, underground counterpart the Dark Brotherhood of The Mind-Benders, had assembled at all five key entry points around the galactic Outer Rim an hour before the Dark Horde arrived.
As promised by their deceased Patriarch (who promised his faithful disciples that their unique power source the Preseglen Daiti Crystal will aid them during the conflict) the entire galactic border regions were suddenly transformed into an ethereal plain of solid energy as the galaxy's psychic army marched into battle.
Armed with specialized weapons and armor originating from the previous universe, these spiritually endowed individuals wholeheartedly began their outlandish confrontation with the multiverse-hopping, mysterious faceless army that is the Kltua-Lymonzs, all the while being aware that they were confronting a seemingly flawless, hostile entities that were never ever beaten, only discouraged!
Understandably the latter wasted no time and began decimating the Milky Way's fledgling psychic army with their horrendous, otherworldly firepower in free abandon, so much so that the army's designated leader (and member of the Earth's branch of The Blessed Order) Commander Jensen "Paladin" MacCready almost wanted to signal a retreat there and then when suddenly, an unlikely event happened that would tip the balance to favor the losing side.
A pivotal turning point arriving in the form of a lone, masked knight dressed in red armor, riding on some strange battle beast while raising above his head a glowing blood red sword that the Psi-Corp's Commander knew too well--Stakana, the sword of Shaik The Fallen One, deceased leader of the Shudwa Dumanta Legion!
Interestingly enough, everyone noted that the supposedly dead dark knight completely ignored the faltering soldiers and rode straight towards the Dark Horde instead! With the greatest of ease the masked red knight carved a long wide path of wanton destruction straight into the heart of the enemy forces, after which he signalled the awestruck militia to regroup and follow him. He was also joined much later by another unknown knight in glowing white metallic armor but wielding an ominous broadsword that seemed to have a mind of its own, opening up even more pathways for the galactic forces to exploit.
Led by these mysterious, chivalrous duo the remaining psychic army deftly brought the celestial conflict to an end, watching as the previously relentless Faceless Horde finally turned around and left the way they came.
PLANET KRYUTOPIA/NEW HAVEN
LOCATION: DARK ENERGY REALM OF THE MILKY WAY GALAXY
The people of that medieval era world were in for an experience of a lifetime! They stood in awe all across the planet's surface as an angry congregation of darkly glowing, energy beings converged towards them from out of nowhere and smothered both the noonday sun and the land under a blanket of freezing darkness!
And just as they thought things couldn't get anymore terrifying, along came a gigantic, fiery, bird-like creature that was said to had blazed out of the Venerable Mater Draconis' Temple Complex, took to the sky amidst fiery trails and magnificent shrieks and began confronting the rapidly advancing forces of the Kltua-Lymonzs head on, creating an ominous aerial spectacle as everyone on the ground were either given to kneeling while reciting hopeful prayers or cheering and shouting wholeheartedly towards the fiery manifestation, collectively believing that the creature was none other than their supreme deity herself: Mater Draconis!
Alas the Faceless Horde were being quite relentless in their attacks as always--the living Goddess Mater Draconis was beginning to falter from fending off their incessant, heavy duty attacks; her blinding, flaming celestial manifestation grew dimmer over time and her previously bottomless, supernal strength had diminished barely an hour into the melee!
As if on cue the once reclusive Dark Emperor of the Ja-annites defied his own Royal Decree by coming out of his hiding to aid her and, using the power of the first piece of the Ethereal Puzzle that he possessed, the celestial duo somehow managed to not only repel their incessant advances but also incapacitated hundreds of those raging monsters in just a short time--the supposedly unstoppable Kltua-Lymonzs Horde soon appeared to be retreating!
Whereas on the ground, the clueless people of the League Of Twelve Cities, the pious folks of the two Eastern Province kingdoms and every other known civilizations of New Haven, mistaking the Dark Emperor as their other supreme deity the Father Of The Wheels, began cheering them on as they thought Mater Draconis' divine consort had arrived from beyond to aid her in her battle.
When the last of the Kltua-Lymonzs' physical manifestations had disappeared into the void, the two heavenly beings gracefully came down amidst the understandable fanfare and unbridled reverence generated by the gathered people of New Haven.
Going along with this newfound positive reputation, the cleverly disguised Dark Emperor courteously thanked his followers' undying faith towards their two benevolent deities, parted words of wisdom and gracefully made his exit with Mater Draconis flying right behind him.
Whatever that the Dark Emperor had been planning it seemed to be working!
PLANET XNROE
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
The tangled manifestations of space-time dimensions and alternate realities surrounding and containing the Sacred Planet XNROE magickally unraveled themselves as numerous, colossal, hideous beasts swarmed around it from all around. Realizing their arrival, the mystical military lycan strike force called The Golden Legion immediately marched towards the front-line to valiantly meet with those vile Kltua-Lymonzs, whereas the ten Head Wizards from the planet's Holy Estate had gathered upon a secure vantage point somewhere behind the battlefield to oversee the progress of their initial encounter.
Not long afterwards, an eclectic legion made up of armed mages and wizards from various disciplines, finally marched in from all over planet and systematically joined their furry counterpart, forming a magnificent albeit somewhat "makeshift" global defense force, promptly giving all they got to their multiverse-traversing adversary (albeit knowing beforehand that the Kltua-Lymonzs were unstoppable), valiantly hoping that their well-planned and concentered show of force that day would have been impressive enough to discourage the Faceless Horde from pursuing their dark intentions!
THE OUTER RIM OF THE MILKY WAY GALAXY
LOCATION: THE PHYSICAL REALM
New Hesperion cyborg mercenary/former Peacekeeper Commander Remington Edwards had reported to his command center that he and his covert intelligence team had successfully uploaded the destructive ancient malware (originally planted into the Galactic Interweb millennia ago by the Kltua-Lymonzs agents themselves) into the Dark Fleet's communications network via the Epsilon Beacon and had gone back into hiding. As predicted by the galaxy's top hacker Mr Bonbon Hai (who led a team of hackers to reverse engineer it), the Faceless Horde's movements immediately became erratic, watching as their massive fleet suddenly broke formation and flew off all over the place, acting as if they've lost all of their controls.
Sensing an exploitable change in their common enemy, both the Union's and the Synod's High Command gave orders to deal with them. And immediately the Outer Rim was alive with a breathtaking view of a million-strong warships belonging to the former's intricate defense network, and also the latter's legendary fleet the Pax Cabalis, arriving via trans-warp portals.
Whereas in some lawless part of the galaxy, Benny Chan (the son of the late Xian Gan Prime's Triad Leader/Galactic Hero Stanley Chan) had had his hands full combating the hellish forces of the once divided Shudwa Dumanta Legion, intending to wreak havoc within the public sectors as the bulk of its defense force had but all been dispatched to deal with a much bigger conflict occurring just outside the galactic borders.
And he would have lost his life there and then (after his flagship unknowingly landed inside the Dark Legion's trap) if not for the three Bearers (Avatars) of the Great Guardians (Mird, Semelix and Purvustra) to have conveniently showed up and dutifully confronted these reestablished dark menace with their outlandish, begotten powers; concurrently repelling the deadly onslaught of these half-a-million-strong congregation of gleaming black warships as the late Stanley Chan's son tried to maneuver his gilded, dragon-decked dreadnought while at the same time keeping tabs on all seven hundred and fifty friendly battle cruisers; surprisingly well-armed for a motley crew of eclectic criminal factions loyal to his late father.
PLANET XNROE
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
The infamous, multiverse-traversing foe had proved to be a powerful force beyond all reckoning at this point! Barely an hour into battle the planet's only defenses made up of of the lycan's Golden Legion and the combined forces of the Hall of Wizards' ten official covens had broken off into isolated and vulnerable groups--even the Cyber Coven’s well-calculated/virtually simulated strategies and fail-safe defense mechanism had seen it losing nearly two-thirds of its battle-primed mecha units within that period!
Only the constant presence of soothing, well-placed, ethereal waves generated by the never-ending recital of the "Music of The Spheres" (deftly executed by the Light Coven's High Priest Thein Garia) prevented the Holy Planet from succumbing to the darkness; albeit its conductor knew it very well his euphonious performance may backfire if his heart is not in the right place at all times!
And as things were looking extremely grim and hopeless at the moment, the unexpected happened: the leader of the Kltua-Lymonzs and his holographic offspring suddenly appeared right in the middle of his seemingly livid brethren and the faltering forces of the Holy Estate! The two sides then proceeded to communicate briefly and all of the sudden each and every one of those gigantic manifestations of the Kltua-Lymonzs disappeared from the planet.
The ten overwhelmed Head Wizards slowly recovered from their shell-shocked state at that point and, upon hearing the Holy Estate's Official Herald's halfhearted rendering of "The Battle Is Over," they then began their official (but gruesome) tasks of gauging or assessing the magnitude of their losses and then deciding upon their respective reparations.
To this day none of these fledgling, emotionally drained combatants ever think of themselves as the winner in this, as the price they paid is much too steep and its detriments would litter their planet for an unnecessarily long period of time.
THE OUTER RIM OF THE MILKY WAY GALAXY
LOCATION: ETHEREAL SUB-DIMENSION
The Milky Way's battle-weary psychic soldiers joyfully approached the two magickal knights and the duo reacted by taking off their masks and showing off their true identity--which naturally shocked almost everyone in the process!
Unperturbed, the chivalrous knight in red armor promptly introduced himself as Captain Shaik Esarsi of the Knights Of The Red Wind (the Samawi Emperor’s Royal Guardians) whereas the eldest of the two as the Holy Paladin Shyair The Dreamer, Leader of the Six Wise Men and father of the former.
Understandably at this point, there were some--if not most--of these weary Psi-Beings who seemed to be getting agitated and immediately demanded that the former to be put to death, forcing the latter to come to his son’s defense by gently assuring them that his wayward son is now but a reformed man--the nefarious Shaik The Fallen One they knew and vehemently reviled is long dead!
Peace was somehow restored shortly after and the surviving psychic soldiers wearily returned home to begin the daunting healing process for the remainder of their lives.
THE OUTER RIM OF THE MILKY WAY GALAXY
LOCATION: THE PHYSICAL REALM
The befuddled Benny Chan was far from safe even with the combined assault of the three magickal Bearers; the resurrected Shudwa Dumanta (Dark Legion) Fleet seemed hell-bent in destroying that Xian Gan Prime native and his underworld fleet once and for all--even after sustaining heavy losses themselves! (They wanted to avenge the death of their leader Shaik The Fallen One, supposedly murdered by his late father).
They repeatedly fired at his hapless flagship with everything they got and were almost successful in taking it out if not for the quick actions of their previously incarcerated High Commander (Lord Absonikta) to appear in the midst of the deep space madness and began placating his seething followers.
Moments later the somewhat subdued Dark Legion--now with Lord Absonikta back at the helm--quickly abandoned their fight with the exhausted privateers and exited the galaxy via an unregistered trans-warp portal, and barely moments before the Union and the Synod's flagships arrived on the scene to rescue them!
The emotionally beleaguered New Hesperion Super Computer "Mother Matrix" also made her unexpected appearance amidst the galactic carnage to reveal one of her hidden supernatural powers for the first time (bestowed upon her by her otherworldly husband), an act that saw the glimmering Virtual Matriarch effortlessly resurrected every civilian casualties in almost a blink of an eye.
And this miraculous feat of hers would later on made both the "Union of Planetary Governments Organization" (The Union) and its administrative rival the "Mutual Synod Of Galactic Order And Universal Equity" (The Synod) agreed to collectively conferred her the title of "The Official Keeper and Protector of the Milky Way".
An extremely honorable position that this sentient Virtual Deity would enthusiastically maintain for the rest of her digital life.
PLANET XNROE
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
The scenes on that battered Holy Planet couldn’t have been more depressing than right now, as every surviving individual on that smoky battlefield were seen either trying to pick up the pieces, or struggled to make sense out of what happened, or retrieveing their recently dead comrades--most of them badly mangled--to prepare them for a proper burial.
The four Head Wizards of Nature: Green Keeper Haroun Aglandir (Warden of the Green Order), Ocean Master Beviga Komossis (Head of the Water Order), Earth Master Khairos Encephalis IV (Chief Mage of the Earth Coven) and Sky Bearer Sekeder Luwing Xi (Master of the Sky Wizards) can be seen sitting in a meditative circle on top of the proverbial Ground Zero, spiritually occupied in directing their remaining powers into a focal point above them to try and "heal" their damaged world (albeit only temporarily), Head White Wizard Thein Garia (of the Light Order) and his remaining Light Workers selflessly tended to the injured whereas the Master Necromancer/Undertaker Marhos (Leader of the Order of Dark Wisdom) and his Dark Watcher sister Fayerina diligently carried out the morbid task of preparing the badly mangled dead for burial and (undoubtedly since this was their first battle in ages) also had to pacify millions of restless, angry and confused souls; condemned to wander around the sordid wasteland looking for closure.
The deeply distraught young Cyber Master Tervlen Eraklen (Head of the Virtual Order) was duly consoled by his equally saddened friend Steel Mage Leader Jargeil Korundus, watching as the traumatized teenager had to repeatedly review and correct details in his first ever "Official Mortality Census" report, whereas the somewhat worried Twilight Order Chief Ang-Nath Cerrabriam and the sad and furious First Wizard Kevga Samawi (Leader of the Hall of Wizards itself) were seen engaged in a quiet conversation some distance away from the meditative quartet, waiting for the outcome of this spiritually taxing ritual.
Moments later the two Head Wizards witnessed an unexpected arrival of Great Shairo, Leader of the Council of the Great Guardians (which had earlier declared his Council's neutrality and opted out of that terrible conflict), who then meekly approached the understandably vexed First Wizard to convey a formal apology on behalf of his peers, and also a sincere pledge of aid to the Hall of Wizards. Unfortunately an ominous schism had developed at that point and had begun to affect the traditionally sound working relationship between Kevga’s Holy Estate and Great Shairo’s Council Of Great Guardians--already took on a life of its own!
And this political animosity will further drive apart these two co-dependent defense organizations from each other, beginning with the First Wizard's symbolic act of throwing back the latter's diplomatic gesture right on his face, refusing outright to accept his pledge of aid "on grounds of abominable cowardice" and angrily told him to go and apologize to the millions of the freshly dead; and see if his pledge and apology matters to them before daring to show his face again.
At this point Great Shairo was silent.
And the already furious First Wizard, appalled by this uncalled for silence, went ballistic and officially declared that all Guardians will be deemed persona non grata by all magickal practitioners indefinitely (despite knowing that his son Humoga was also a Guardian).
Thus the proverbial Cold War between the Hall of Wizards and the Council of The Great Guardians have begun that fateful day.
THE OUTER RIM OF THE MILKY WAY GALAXY
LOCATION: ETHEREAL SUB-DIMENSION
The reformed antagonist Captain Shaik Esarsi suddenly fell and passed out cold as soon as the last of the Psi-Being soldiers exited the ethereal dimension. The panicked Holy Paladin Shyair tried desperately to revive his son but to no avail. He then fearfully turned towards his Bearer (the cyborg Space Pirate leader Rembrandt Roswell) for help and instinctively Rembrandt brought them over to his reluctant mentor (the Pibian/Human Space Pirate Elder Proscotra “Patrick” Escula) and the latter's befuddled Pibian cousin (Guardian/Doctor Flistra Escula) hoping against all hope that the Pibian Healers’ miraculous powers would be able to revive his Master's unconscious son.
His other son Shaira the Silent Traveler (Shaik from another dimension) briefly appeared on the scene to donate some of his life-force energy in order to increase the effectiveness of the duo’s healing ritual before leaving as fast as he came (The Universal Laws of Higher Physics dictates that anyone coming into close contact with their other selves will immediately cancel each other's existence).
To his father's pleasant surprise Shaik woke up a whole new person right at the end of the ritual, tearfully hugged his father, had a quiet word with him on a remote Sacred Sanctuary next before saying goodbye to his understandably sad and reluctant father.
And word from the Watchers has it that he is now somewhere in the furthest fringes of the universe, peacefully living out the rest of his immortal life incognito as well as also being a caring parent to a powerful Half-Human/Half-Xnrene child Azu-Wa-Jri (or Azrun as his human name goes) at the same time.
A fun loving, mischievous and forever simpering ten year old he had known and had secretly grown to love while he was still a maniacal leader of the Dark Legion (and the former used to be his sworn enemy).
THE KLTUA-LYMONZS CONTINUUM
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
Moiko-Stitska Kayevania Ilassimia Filby (leader of the Kltua-Lymonzs) tentatively brought before his curious people one of his two offspring with Mother Matrix (the cybernetic being named Odysseus) and asked him to tell them of his life story, adding also the fact how becoming a father significantly changed his own life. Odysseus immediately told them about Life and everything he knows.
Consequently this little revelation generated two distinct reactions among his followers: those who were deeply affected by Odysseus' words chose to cease pursuing their morbid fascinations and doing ungodly experiments for good, and those who remained indifferent and chose to resume their nefarious ways!
Ultimately this once united group of multiverse traversing, super-dimensional beings of horror found itself irrevocably divided. They then officially declared to each other of their chosen convictions and parted ways to again roam the Gleaming Field, signs of enmity already showing between them.
Moiko-Stitska’s estranged brother Mickey (Mind Of The Creator) unexpectedly made an appearance not long afterwards and offered him his old job title as Mouth of The Creator, amnesty for him, his son and followers; and also a chance for everyone to again be part of the Creator Aspects like they once were.
The former and his son gladly accepted the latter's offer and, together with the rest of his loyal followers, they made their way across the vast and radiant Gleaming Field and straight towards the Hallowed Hall of Tales from where they came to celebrate their return.
A small corner room bathed in light and made of the sweetest of emotions and feelings, on the first floor of a magnificent palace called "Arash," where the One Most High resided!
THUS THE LEGACY OF THE KLTUA-LYMONZS LIVES ON.
(Artist unknown)
#science fiction#fantasy#cyberpunk#space opera#short story#slice of life#original characters#original posting#looking for publisher
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Fic or treat - Matt and Foggy during that one Halloween ep of Spiderman where people turn into the monsters they dress up as for the night (doctor strange helps sort everything out if I recall correctly)
I guess this is a recurring Halloween Thing (Buffy, Halloweentown, and now apparently Ultimate Spider-Man) and honestly I love it with all my heart and soul. So this got... Long. Also I just sidestepped the actual plot of the episode because Baron Mordo sucks eggs and I don’t care about him, lol
—
Foggy’s still adding the last touches to his costume and hasn’t put it on yet — that’s the only thing that saves him. But the second a blast of orange light radiates across the city, he knows something fucked-up freaky is going down.
“Oh jeez,” he mutters to himself, watching through the window as the energy continues to spread like ripples on a pond. “Matty, you might wanna go get your other Halloween costume.”
There’s a groan of pain from behind him. Foggy whirls around.
“Matt, what—”
But Matt doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, more like. He’s staggering around, hands clutched to his head. Foggy has no idea if it’s a direct effect of the freaky magic flooding the city or if whatever that magic is doing is overloading Matt’s supersenses, but either way he can’t just stand by and let his boyfriend suffer. He rushes over and wraps Matt in a hug — takes as much of Matt’s weight as he can, tries to cocoon him so his senses have time to settle or acclimate or whatever they need to do.
“I got you,” he murmurs nonsensically. “I got you, Matty, it’s ok, it’s gonna be ok, just breathe with me, buddy, just breathe—”
All Foggy’s reassurances are choked off when a clawed hand closes around his throat. He’s shoved backwards, into the wall, and Matt’s...
Matt’s gone.
In his place, the figure Foggy had been holding — that not a minute ago had been the love of his life — is otherworldly and terrifying. Its skin is cold to the touch, and flecks of gold freckle its face, creep down from its ears to the familiar arch of its cheekbones. It has Matt’s messy, dark hair but his eyes, still unseeing based on the way they don’t track, glow ice blue. It still wears the white tunic Matt had put on, but the cloth is clearly of finer quality. What was once a sparkly golden pipe-cleaner halo is now an aura of radiance so bright it makes Foggy’s eyes water. Oh yeah, and this thing’s got a pair of fuck-off enormous white wings instead of the tiny, goofy-looking faux-feather ones Matt had strapped on like a backpack not five minutes ago.
When it opens its mouth — Matt’s mouth — and speaks, the words are unintelligible and so powerful that Foggy instinctively stops trying to remove the hand from around his throat and claps his palms to his ears instead. He has an alarming thought — that he’s going to die here — and the very distant realization that Matt would be completely enraged about him giving up. But even if this... Angel. Thing. Even if it’s not Matt anymore, it was him. And Foggy has to believe the magic that changed him is going to be undone. There’s like a hundred fucking superheroes in Manhattan alone so like, it had god damn better be undone. And when it is, who knows if any injuries sustained will carry over? Foggy could never risk hurting Matt like that. He just couldn’t.
Jessica Jones does not have this problem.
Foggy learns that the second she comes bursting through the door of the apartment and discus-throws her unconscious vampire boyfriend right at Angel Matt’s unprotected back. Not that Foggy actually sees any of this — because, again, fuck-off big swan wings — but once he’s able to breathe again he’s also able to put the series of events together thanks to context clues. Flattened angel plus unconscious Hero of Harlem with an open, snoring mouth and especially pointy canines plus panting, disheveled Jess? The math’s not hard. He and Jess stare at each other in silence for a few seconds.
“You ok there, Nelson?” she asks at last, gruffly, before stepping forward to sling her enormous boyfriend into a fireman’s carry.
“Yeah? I’m good, I think. Mostly. Um...” Foggy points at the knocked out form of Luke draped over Jess’s shoulder. “How did you...?”
“Vulcan nerve pinch,” she says flatly, but doesn’t give Foggy the necessary space to determine if it’s a joke or not. “Now come on, you’re the one who knows every-fucking-body, who do we need to stomp to fix this?”
Good to know you saved me because you were concerned for my safety or something, Foggy thinks but is smart enough not to say.
“I don’t know who did it,” he admits, now that he has the time to think, “but that guy Strange who lives in the Village is supposed to be a wizard or something. Maybe it’s one of his baddies.”
Jess slams a fist into her open palm, murder in her eyes, then immediately has to break the pose to stop Luke from slumping onto the floor.
“Well he better fix it or I’m gonna kick his ass,” she insists, clearing her throat and straightening up again.
Foggy does not dignify this with an answer, and to further pretend he didn’t just witness Jess fumble Luke like a football he crouches down to check on Matt. He doesn’t seem to be unconscious, although at first it’s a little hard to tell based on the ethereal, retina-searing glow around his head. But upon inspection, the prone angel is in a pose Foggy knows well — Matt’s ‘I’m suffering and I refuse to move’ pose. Often adopted whilst sick or otherwise mildly inconvenienced, and never done while seriously injured. Which is good, Foggy supposes.
“Up and at ‘em, Matty,” he mutters, slowly and gently closing his hands around the angel’s and noting that Matt’s newly clawed nails are tipped in gold.
Matt gets to his feet without a fuss, just tilting his head to the side curiously. He sniffs. Once. Twice. Then flips their handhold so his fingers are circling Foggy’s wrists and pins him to the wall again. This time, though, instead of strangling him, he buries his nose in Foggy’s throat, sniffling at his pulse point like a weirdo.
“Hey! Murdock! Don’t make me come over there!” Jess snaps.
“It’s good, we’re good!” insists Foggy shrilly. “He’s um. He’s just. Sniffing me.”
“Fucking weirdo.”
But there’s no thud of Luke being used as a blunt weapon again, so at least she’s listening to him. After another ten uncomfortable seconds, Angel Matt pulls back. Slowly and gently, he lets go of Foggy’s wrists before combing the fingers of one clawed hand through Foggy’s hair. Then he smiles and speaks.
The expression, combined with the musical but incomprehensible words, is so beautiful that tears begin to streak down Foggy’s face. Angel Matt brushes them away with the side of his thumb.
Jess ruins the moment by groaning in frustration.
“Ok, we get it, gay love conquers all, can we get a move on before my boyfriend wakes up and tries to tear out my throat again?” she demands.
Which, to be fair to her, doesn’t sound like a great time. Matt’s wings flare angrily and he spits more crazy angel language at Jess that sounds like a threat, but Foggy is able to soothe him easily enough. After that, he tows Matt along by the hand like a particularly docile six-year-old and they set out without further incident.
—
The problem with having a huge city-wide curse fucking up everyone’s night is that getting a cab is impossible. On the bright side, Jess is one of the few people Foggy knows who actually owns a car. Then again, it’s usually hard enough fitting everyone inside that car without a potentially-murderous vampire and an angel with a fifteen foot wingspan to consider. They’re still trying to figure out the logistics when a horde of monsters descends upon them. Foggy counts two zombies — and there’s a frightening thought, are those guys contagious? — a werewolf, a ninja, and some kind of terrifying... Fish person. There’s lots of snarling, howling, and gnashing of teeth. Foggy really wishes he hadn’t been so preoccupied with Matt and had the foresight to grab his baseball bat on the way out the door.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got like, a tire iron in there or something?” he asks Jess as they’re backed up against her car.
“What do I look like, a mechanic? I’ve barely got gas in this piece of shit car.”
“Cool, great,” Foggy says, too strained to be as sarcastic as he wants since this is about as far from cool and great as it’s possible to get.
Then Matt squeezes his hand and lets go. Foggy scrambles to try and pull him back to safety, but his strides are long — too long for any normal human, like he’s gliding instead of walking. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing squarely between them and the monsters, and then he flares his wings wide enough to block them all from view. Foggy can still hear snarling, but he has to squeeze his eyes shut as the luminance around Matt ramps up about a thousand percent. There’s hissing, yelping, and the slap of feet on concrete, and the light turning the back of Foggy’s eyelids orange only fades after the sounds of retreat abate into silence.
“Holy shit, Murdock,” Jess mutters. “Maybe we oughta keep you like this.”
“Jones,” Foggy scolds. “Rude.”
He opens his eyes to find Matt now facing him as though waiting for something.
“What, Matty?”
“Fuck’s sake, Nelson,” says Jess, “he just saved our bacon — you gonna thank him or what?”
Matt continues to stare — for a certain value of stare, Foggy supposes — in his general direction expectantly.
“Um. Yes, thank you,” Foggy says, and probably because he’s gone completely insane, reaches up to pat Matt on the head. “You, um... Did good? Yes. Good job.”
Matt leans into the touch, beaming, and honest to god the expression is almost brighter than the glow of his halo. Jess makes a very rude gagging noise as she stuffs her still-snoring boyfriend into the trunk. Matt and his wings, even folded up, take up the whole back seat, so Foggy rides shotgun. With monsters of all shapes and sizes roaming the city streets, what would otherwise be a pretty boring car ride ends up feeling like a chase scene in Jurassic Park, but at last they make it. Foggy wasn’t a hundred percent on the address but Strange’s place is pretty hard to miss. It’s enormous and scary-looking and it’s got a big skylight in the shape of some round symbol that probably has magical significance.
There’s no answer when they knock on the door, except for a “doctor is out” sign that flickers into existence, along with a huge padlock — you know, just in case they weren’t getting the message. Foggy’s torn between being weirded out and being amused that the creepy mansion has a sense of humor.
“He’s not even home?!” Jess kicks the door, hard. “This is bullshit!”
She lets out a wordless, frustrated shout, and Luke startles awake. He’s on his feet almost immediately, eyes glowing blood red. Matt wraps his arms around Foggy from behind, casting huge shadows with his flared wings. But Luke? There’s no recognition of Jess there, except as food. None of the half-domesticated sentience Matt’s been showing, just snarling animal hunger. Luke’s such a chill, reasonable guy that the contrast is shocking and even if he hadn’t been held back Foggy wouldn’t have been able to do more than freeze in terror as Luke pinned Jess to the wall of Strange’s mansion and lunged for her throat. Jess, thankfully, is more of a fight instinct person than a freeze instinct one. Also she’s got superstrength. She catches Luke’s wrist and flips him like a pancake. Once he’s on the ground and winded, she really, genuinely does Vulcan nerve pinch him back to sleep, which is wild. Foggy had been leaning sixty-forty towards her being joking about that.
“Well,” he says awkwardly. “That was impressive.”
“Impressive? Impressive?!” Jess is laughing, but the sound is sharp and bitter. “It should’ve been me,” she growls, stomping back down to the sidewalk and kicking a stray soda can so hard it embeds itself in the wall of a building across the street. “Fuck. I hate seeing him like this. I’m already— half fucking feral, and he’s got that unbreakable skin. It should have been me! He’d probably just sit there calmly and let me try to bite him while he worked out how to fix everything, and all I can do is be a, a panicked fuck-up!”
“Jess!” Foggy scolds sharply, extricating himself from Matt’s arms to confront her. “You’re not a fuck-up. You kept Luke safe. You didn’t let him hurt anyone. You got us here. Look, if Strange isn’t home then maybe that means he’s out fixing this. That’s a good thing. You just need to take a deep breath. We‘ll rest here a little bit, then we’ll start driving back — dollars to donuts whatever big fight is probably going down right now is in, like, Times Square or something, because it literally always is with you super-people.”
Jess makes another frustrated noise that Foggy hopes isn’t going to end with him going through a wall, and then plops down on Dr. Strange’s porch. He settles in beside her, and Matt perches beside him. Luke’s still sprawled in front of them, snoring again. They wait quietly for a good ten minutes, and the tension fades from the air.
Foggy’s just about to suggest they get up and start heading back the way they came when there’s another blast of orange magic — this time running in reverse, moving in towards an epicenter instead of out from it. It washes through them with a disorienting whoosh and leaves behind two dazed boyfriends in simple, cobbled-together costumes.
Foggy’s never been so happy to see a lopsided pipe cleaner halo in his life. He kisses Matt full on the mouth. Matt kisses back eagerly but is also the first to pull away.
“Not that, not that I’m, um, complaining but... What was that for?” he asks, baffled but clearly amused. “And... Where are we?”
So then Foggy has to explain, while watching Jess rip the cheap plastic fangs out of Luke’s mouth and stomp on them repeatedly, exactly how the four of them ended up in front of Dr. Strange’s creepy magic mansion.
“So anyway,” he finishes lamely, “I guess somebody saved the day or something, but we didn’t do much.”
Matt shakes his head.
“You did wonderfully.” He takes a deep breath, the way he always does when he’s gathering himself to say something emotional. “I love you.”
“Love you too, angel,” Foggy says, and the flush of embarrassed pleasure that colors Matt’s cheeks in response is sweeter than any candy.
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STUDY : VANYA & POWERS .
* 01 . CAUSE .
vanya’s powers are intrinsically connected to sound. to be more specific : the types of sounds that set off her powers are generally repetitive, high - volume, and / or high - pitched. she fixates on these sounds in a very physical way : the sounds seem to pinball around inside of her, growing in intensity as they do, until it is physically painful to keep them in and she has to let her power out. her powers are specifically a conversion of sound to energy — noise goes in, goes through the filter that is vanya, and comes out as telekinetic force.
the screech of a kettle will almost always set off vanya’s powers ( as both a high - pitched and long - lasting sound & a ptsd trigger, though she doesn’t know the connection that has to her childhood ). if she’s afraid enough to hear her own heart beating in her ears, there’s a near - guarantee an explosion of power will follow. people yelling at her is likely to set her off. repetitive music. her own music practice, if she becomes too engrossed in her violin playing.
the second piece of vanya’s powers is the emotional aspect. her powers are at their most intense when she is in distress, be that fear or panic or anger or grief. they don’t activate in catastrophic ways when she’s feeling positively, though something like the joyful nerves of a first kiss, for example, may make them appear in less noticeable forms. the emotion is equally important to the sound, if not moreso : hearing a repetitive sound when she’s in a neutral or happy state isn’t likely to cause more than a few objects rattling, but panicking without a clear sound to focus on will almost without fail cause her powers to go haywire. it’s easy enough for her mind to pick up on sounds to harness while panicking — if nothing else, her own heartbeat fulfills the requirement quite easily.
* 02 . EFFECT, SELF .
i. PHYSICAL. — as i mentioned before, at a certain intensity vanya’s powers are physically painful for her to hold in. she processes sound the same way anyone else does, though her hearing is slightly stronger than the average person’s, but once a sound is inside her and the prerequisites for setting off her powers have been met, it doesn’t simply pass through and leave. it builds up and builds up until it is all she can focus on. it’s a feeling focused mainly in her chest, and feels somewhat like a heart attack if she lets it get far enough.
vanya also finds it very difficult to speak when using her powers. as a child, vanya did not start speaking until she was four years old, after her powers were taken from her, and was selectively mute for much of her childhood. this returns when her powers are intensely active, as the thought of creating any additional sound is often far too much to fathom.
ii. MENTAL. — obviously, the majority of the time vanya is using her powers, her mental state is already fragile. her powers have a tendency to cancel this out, but go a bit too far in doing so. when in full swing of her powers ( aka, when she is in extreme emotional circumstances and extreme sound and has been in powers - mode for more than a few minutes ), she nearly always dissociates. vanya’s prone to dissociation when not using her powers, but it’s almost a given when her powers get to a certain point. she’ll detach almost entirely from what she’s doing and instinct takes over.
emotionally speaking, a mix of her powers & the 25 years she spent with medicinally dulled emotional range ( which, i want to be clear, is not any kind of indictment of medication as a whole; medication is often a really important piece of treating mental health, and i take meds for my depression / anxiety! this is very specifically a case of misused medication, given to her by her father at a far higher dose than she should ever have been on for the express purpose of limiting her emotional range and suppressing her powers ) makes her very emotionally volatile & prone to high - intensity feelings. nothing happens halfway with vanya, especially emotion. so her powers, too, are very volatile and easily set - off.
iii. APPEARANCE. — the more intensely she’s using her powers, the more her appearance changes. she never becomes unrecognizable, this isn’t a full werewolf - esque transformation or anything, but she does become somewhat ethereal / otherworldly / inhuman. the color will leave her eyes first; even at low levels of power - use they’ll pale significantly to a much lighter gray - brown than her usual dark brown, and with anything higher intensity her irises go pure white. her skin will also grow gradually paler with intensity : her powers focus mostly on sound, but they draw from other sources as well, and as sounds and colors are both ( in very simplified and unscientific terms ) waves of energy, her powers will draw from both. in extremely intense situations ( see : concert scene in 1x10 ) her clothing and anything else she’s in physical contact with will also go pure white. when at her most intense, she also glows slightly, as her powers draw on the light around her as well and circle her with a halo of sorts.
essentially : she’s scary. she does not look entirely human when she’s in the full swing of her powers. though her physical attributes remain the same at their base level, it’s very difficult to relate the white violin, as vanya’s known while using her powers publicly, to vanya hargreeves — vanya when not using her powers is shy and small and a little frumpy looking, and vanya when she’s the white violin looks like a terrifying goddess raining retribution on her foes. unless a person knows her extremely well, has done significant research and comparison, or has a powerful knack for connecting this kind of dot, they probably won’t make the connection without being told.
post - unapocalypse, her eyes will flash white at least momentarily with any use of her powers, no matter how minimal. her power is much more prone to activating after it’s been fully unlocked at the concert in 1x10, and the physical impacts come much more quickly. she trains her power to minimize the outward effects ( i’ll get into that in a bit ), but her eyes goin all spooky is a pretty common thing.
* 03 . EFFECT, SURROUNDINGS .
what are the outward impacts of vanya’s power? when unfocused, vanya’s power presents as an outward wave of percussive force. to work our way up in intensity, let’s begin with a low - intensity use of vanya’s power : she’s a little bit panicked, she’s picked up on the tapping of someone’s foot or the drip of a faulty sink, and she isn’t consciously trying to use her power. objects nearby will rattle, almost as if a low - level earthquake has passed through. a lightbulb may shatter for seemingly no reason. plates and mugs may fall off their shelves.
at a higher level but still unfocused, the wave of force grows more intense. rather than simply shaking objects, it’s enough to push people as far back as the room will allow, throwing objects around like very centralized hurricane. vanya is the eye of the storm. everything breakable around her is likely to shatter, and she has a captivating element caused both by her physical appearance and her power itself — it’s difficult to look away from vanya when she’s fully engrossed in her power.
when focused, her power is much more akin to typical telepathy : a prime canon example is the scene where leonard dies. focused on one target in particular, vanya’s powers grow much more specific — knives flying towards a person, throats slit, etc. in my verses where vanya is actively using her powers to harm people ( vigilante and etc ), this is her primary mode.
* 05 . CONTROL, POST - CONCERT .
when we see vanya using her powers in canon, it’s at a very novice state : she’s just discovered she even has powers and has absolutely zero control over how they appear. after the apocalypse is narrowly avoided, vanya is afraid to even go near her powers for weeks, but inevitably that fear only makes them act out more, so the need to train them is eventually understood. the most effective way of controlling her powers is to work on her emotional state first and foremost. vanya returns to strategies she learned in therapy ( it would be smart for her to begin seeing a therapist again, but it’s a little difficult to explain you’re having trouble coping with nearly having ended the world, and the existence of superpowers is so limited in the tua world that it isn’t as if there’s therapists trained to deal with powered patients, so she tries to cope on her own instead to varying degrees of success ). she learns to remove herself from situations that are setting off her anxiety, and practices breathing exercises. the more she attempts to gain control over her own emotional state, the more control she has over her powers — eventually, even when she’s feeling a certain way, she can minimize or entirely cancel out whatever effect her powers would have had.
( of course, her progress is fairly rocky at first. she will often wake up from nightmares to find every light or mirror or picture frame in her room has been shattered. she does not pick her violin up again until she is fairly confident in the control she has over herself, about six months post - concert. she’s very, very afraid of the thought of accidentally hurting anyone she cares about. )
she is good at minimizing her powers when she doesn’t want them to cause trouble, but the reverse is also true : her skill extends to activating her powers when she needs them, consciously allowing her mind to seek out the sounds around her and consciously tapping into her emotions. it’s still in progress, of course, but activating her powers consciously is much easier than suppressing them, and she can nearly always summon them up when she needs them.
* 06 . BONUS : WEATHER MANIPULATION .
y’all know how diego can breathe underwater completely separately from his ability to curve thrown objects? or how klaus can levitate, in addition to his ghost stuff? vanya’s got a main course of sound - based telekinesis and a side order of weather manipulation. interestingly, this power is much less suppressed by her medication : whatever emotions are intense enough to get past the threshold of her meds have a direct impact on the world around her, in the form of weather. this isn’t something she can control. picture less storm of the x - men and more when she’s sad it sometimes starts raining a little bit, but not consistently enough for her to even notice that she is causing it. those who are very close to her and spend enough time with her in varying emotional states to notice these patterns might pick up on it happening.
#* 𝄞 . your soul is blowing apart ⁄ ‟ study . „#2K WORDS OF POWERS META BABEY#lmk if theres anything i missed here or any questions yall have !!
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Reviews 207: Pablo’s Eye
My first encounter with the music of Axel Libeert and his frequent collaborators Marie Mandi and Thierry Royo came through Music From Memory’s stunning Uneven Paths compilation, which opened with the atmospheric seaside ambiance and flowing lyricisms of Nightfall in Camp’s “Cada Dia.” And though this track was an easy stand-out from a compilation overflowing with incredible music, I had little idea to what degree its creators would come to dominate my life over the course of the next year. As it turns out, Nightfall in Camp was but a prelude to Pablo’s Eye, Axel’s longstanding esoteric sound collective that I was first introduced to through STROOM’s Spring Break compilation, specifically the track “Amb 7.” I was instantly ensnared by the sonic dreamworlds of hallucinogenic beauty and in the short time it took for STROOM to release their second Pablo’s Eye set entitled Bardo for Pablo, I had taken as deep dive into the collective’s extensive and eclectic back catalog, soaking up every piece of enigmatic and mystical sound art that I could find. It was a wonderful journey through realms of enveloping minimalist drone collages, spiritual ambient experimentations, heart-wrenching post-classical string meditations, drugged up dub rituals, 90s chill-out psychedelia, jazz fusion adventures, spoken word esoterica, and so much else besides…basically some of my favorite styles and shades of music ever all coming together in way that is spiritually kin to the early outputs of Kranky and Constellation Records. And at the start of 2019, STROOM and Pablo’s Eye finally completed their immense reissue series with the spellbinding and mysterious Dark Matter.
For these collections, label head Ziggy Devriendt relies on his sorcerous ability to sift through an artist’s history, pick idiosyncratic and often unheard gems, and weave them together into a definitive yet wholly unique tapestry and the curative work across these three compilations is among his best, with the individual releases allowing him to shine a light on distinct subspaces within the Pablo’s Eye universe. Spring Break pulls most heavily from 1991’s Barcelona (Architects Of)” and 1995’s You Love Chinese Food and thus finds the band exploring pop-leaning balearica, seaside fusion, and hypnotic trance states. Bardo for Pablo, on the other hand, features some never before released studio explorations of abstract jungle rhythms, tribal drum exotica, and dub delay madness while also bringing together two of the groups most epic club cuts, as the breakbeat majesty of “Amb 8” flows into the cosmic ecstasy of “Prepare for the Others to Follow (N.Y. Cypher Mix).” Then for Dark Matter, Ziggy mines Devotions (1992), All She Wants Grows Blue (1998), Realismo (1999), and once again, You Love Chinese Food. Given that these albums in part source Spring Break, it’s remarkable how different Dark Matter is in sound and vibe, as it sees the band journeying through shadowy cloudrealms of spectral drone and unsettling kosmische. And tying the whole collection together is Richard Skinner, the visionary writer and frequent Pablo’s Eye collaborator whose words and poetry adorn each release and provide powerful textual accompaniments to the far-out sonic dreamscapes.
Pablo’s Eye - Spring Break (STROOM, 2018) “Blind and Quiet” is introduced by ritualistic kicks and hypnotizing loops built from cosmic sub-bass currents. Cut-up drones of liquid silver fly all around and eventually, the fried electro-fractals give way to angelic atmospheres. Heavily effected string instruments morph through delirious delays in “Double Language” and lead to blissed out passages of new age beauty. Hushed cloud movements of blurred light background otherworldly prayer calls and Marie Mandi’s narcotic voice…her spiritual intonations and enchanting incantations flowing above smeared out waveforms and rattling percussive tones bouncing thought rapid-fire echoes. The ethereal beauty of an outerspace mermaid choir is contrasted by disturbing religious samples and we eventually climax with a passage of breathtaking transcendence, as Patrick Hanappier let’s loose a funeral violin folk song over dark piano bass textures and feverish siren songs and to these ears, his playing has a deep kinship with Sophie Trudeau’s on the first GY!BE album. And after all of this, we end with a carnivalesque passage of bleary pan-pipes and backwards sliding orchestrations. “La Pedrera” follows with glassy guitar chords and dreamy harmonic arpeggiations. Spacious bass pulses join Dirk Wachtelear’s ride cymbal for a swaying jazz groove with airs of Badalamenti and Twin Peaks. Marie’s hypnotizing spoken word patterns join in as the downbeat heroin jazz vibes are accentuated by scatting trumpets and hazy synth leads and towards the end, the track evolves into a beautiful trumpet showcase wherein Gino Lattuca’s gorgeous brass webs are joined by crystalline guitar chords.
“That Night Together with Her” begins with a heartfelt violin meditation wherein bowed melodies cut the difference between hypnotic minimalism and folk Americana in a way that evokes Henry Flynt. Amorphous echo-guitars generate futuristic drone tapestries before giving way to a cut-up panorama of reversing cymbals that sound like the fluttering wings of a metallic bird. Sparse kicks and meditative bass pulses induce a spiritual jazz drift and eventually harmonious clouds of swelling guitar join in while Patrick tugs at the heartstrings with his breathtaking violin runs. And as the track ends, pastoral guitar wanderings and vaporous synths background the violin before it all gives way to beachside field recordings. Then in “Otis (Rumours of Rain),” we smash cut into a dreamworld of ambient fusion, with jamming e-piano chords riding alongside scatting synth riffs. Dirk’s rimshots and cymbals hold down a flowing pulse that’s always on the verge of exploding while Thierry’s smokey guitars vibe out with sliding licks and liquid riffs. Aquatic synths leads and bass textures float as Gino’s trumpet journeys through the sky and during a swooning coda, ghostly hazes and guitar harmonics background mournful horn flights. “El Barrio Gótico” sees noir shrouded guitar arpeggiations overlying moaning voices of desperation. Majestic and shadowy string orchestrating give way to terrifying streaks of bowed noise while the electronic hi-hats, sparse tom fills, industrial snare smashes, and stuttering kicks lock into a hypno-pulse. All the while, wild distorted leads blasts in and fry the mind…like anthemic stadium-sized 80s synths twisted into sonic fire.
“Amb 7,” starts with looping voices and spectral clouds swirling around heart-wrenching violin runs. Things change drastically as a fractured tribal rhythms flash side to side, creating a heady glide through dark dream realms where the voices of shadow spirit entrance the mind. Subaqueous bass swells sit deep in the mix while shakers give further propulsion to the mysterious sound flows and warm guitar solos encircle the mind with jazzy runs of cosmic melancholia. There’s a moment where most of the atmospheric elements vaporize into air, leaving the toms to pound away until fluttering and ecstatic violin solos enter…sounding as if beamed in from another dimension…while all around the organic grooves resume their march through a futuristic jungle. The Henry Flynt connections return once again, though it sounds as if he has been transported to a faraway realm of electro-cosmic energy as crazed violin explosions soar over the zoned out drum ceremonials before it all ends with a soft outro of pitter-patter tom play and guitars dropping from a golden sky. “A Long Standing Dream” exists in a world of harsh phasing cymbals and euphoria drone waves emanating from an ocean of light. It’s dissonant yet purifying, as strands of feedback wrap around Dirk’s percolating tom patterns and breathy cymbal pulses. Everything slowly phases and mutates while all around, psychedelic synth bubbles and sci-fi pads bounce on heatwave currents, cascading echoes wrap around everything, gentle oscillations ride on etherwaves, and layered metal taps and hissing tambourines give the mystical rhythms further shape.
Pablo’s Eye - Bardo for Pablo (STROOM, 2018) “Amb 8” is the epic sequel to “Amb 7” and starts with choppy waves of gorgeous sonic bliss moving back and forth across four-four kicks and rattling shakers. Dial-tone sequences bathed in cosmic mist snake through the air and as dubwise snares crack in one ear, their reverb shrouded delay trails diffuse in the other. Liquid mid-bass sequences join the sci-fi dance, simultaneously tracking the dial-tone synths and playing off the echosnares while factory industrialisms intertwine with interstellar jungle mysticisms. The same hypnotizing voice loops that appear in “Amb 7” are also here floating through the air and at some point, swelling self-oscillatory chaoswaves overtake the mix as the kick recedes, leaving the militant shakers to fly above swinging exotica basslines, mesmeric toms flows, and synth sequences mimicking intergalactic cyborg breaths. Then in a moment of pure inspired magic, a mammoth breakbeat fades in, all baggy 90s glory moving through swirling metallic fogs and mind-wrapping sequences for an extended and drugged out groove. As the entrancing voices return, they bring with them overwhelming clouds of rotating sonic light that eventually wash out the breaks and reveal a haunted passage of drone built from ascendent yet ominous color pulses, streaking synth smears, and obscured voices. The rest of the track is like a dream recollection of what came before, as funky basslines, circling toms, euphoria breaks, and splattering kicks all intermingle within an alien rainforest suffused with darkness, one where neon plants glow with strange energies and distant drum rituals vibrating from unseen origins.
In 1996, Pablo’s Eye released the Prepare for the Others to Follow single containing various far-out remixes and reworks of the exotically dubbed out drum’n’bass title track, an easy stand out of which was the “Cypher NY Mix.” A sub-bass hum rings out from the center of the universe, its inky black waves of immersive sonic warmth suffused through by sparkling feedback textures…as if luminescent insects have been transmuted into sound. Heady tom-tom melodies bounce through echo caverns while harsh filter fx, ultra-crushed drum smashes, and cosmic winds move all around. Crystalline reverb fluids drop into glowing pools and the sense of floating euphoria is carried further by a drugged out beat that fades in from oceanic depths…a loved up and emotional break soaring on paradise waves. It’s easy to get lost in the swooning chill-out room hypnotics, as snares decay through infinite sheets of reverb, universal bass hums float the spirit towards realms of ecstasy, and ghosts of memory howl at the edges of the mix. The following track “Today” sees shadowy drum’n’bass rhythms charging through a panoramic world of delay madness while throbbing bass pulsations chug into the darkness. Clattering drum cascades roll endlessly as longform panning fx hypnotize the mind and there are almost no transitions…just murky beat and bass loops repeating until the entrance snake rattles and palm-muted guitar percolations. And eventually the rhythms pull away, leaving wavering strings to blast through the sky as rattlesnake motions and metallic pings grow into walls of oscillatory chaos.
“My Only Guide Is” features hallucinatory and rattle-heavy drum storms that obscure sliding liquid melodics. Delays morph and modulate everything with occasional forays in to self-oscillating psychedelia and as the overwhelming bass clouds recede, tom-toms and hand drums merge for mystical rhythm ceremonies where bells and tambourines shake and sparkle. The rest of the track spends its time cutting back and forth between various extra-terrestrial drum rituals, with snake charmer bass fluids, charging tribal cascades, and rainforest energies overflowing with wild and rapturous magic as chimes and shakers wrap the soul in colorful sound spirals. Wild beat layers falling over themselves, anxious double-time hats, bouncing dub echoes, and marching ceremonies scrambled into alien chaosclouds…this is “Self-Abandonment.” Elsewhere, unidentifiable rattling noises flow aside cosmic chirps and satellite transmissions…the vibe militant and mind-melting, powerful and propulsive…especially as clacking snare rolls fire side to side. Motorik textures give further shape to the crazed drum adventures while also allowing them to spread even further out into realms of hysteria and as the track progresses, everything seems to filter and pan while growing increasingly fractured and kaleidoscopic. “I Have No Other Compass” closes Bardo for Pablo with sickly pads wavering in the moonlight. It’s the world as reflected through the surface of a disturbed body of liquid, with overlapping layers creating feedback resonances, bodies of ether spinning uncontrollably, and heart-throb melodies transmuting across universes.
Pablo’s Eye - Dark Matter (STROOM, 2019) In “Worship & Passion,” sinister high-frequency drones evoking classical horror film music are swarmed around by echoing voices, disorienting bass textures, mournful violin fantasias, and jeweled webs of plucked guitar harmonics. Marie intones “floating down the river…to paradise” among other softly spoken lines of poetry while synthetic choirs rush in from the depths alongside atonal acoustic string slides, sampled speech, and Patrick’s aching viol streaks. Then in “More Hesitant Than Before,” looping dronewaves of string cacophony spin through the sky alongside oscillating echoes. Long deliberate bow strokes repeat endlessly while ominous atmospheres boil underneath and the vibe is like awakening impossibly far beneath the surface of the sea…no light, no sound…just unsettling, almost malevolent currents surrounding the body and hinting at unseen intelligences and unknowable animal forms. Phasing fx and psychedelic pans lull the mind into a trance as viscous bodies of black light wash over the soul and towards the end, rumbling percussive drones enter…like the fading shadow of some ritualistic tribal ceremony.
“Different Observers” has shades of “Prepare for the Others to Follow” as toms ping-png through a deep space corridor. Twitching reverb fx are locked into pulsating rhythms alongside sub-bass kicks and murky voices are smeared into a drug haze as they flash into and out of existence. An alien muezzin calls out from a minaret in the center of an eternal desert expanse while up above, clouds of green and blue swarm amongst the stars. The massive kicks, mutating cymbals, and percolating toms grow ever louder while the voices become increasingly shrouded in dense of fogs of reverb and towards the end, fast motion melodic drum tones rolling through outerspace echoboxes overlay gigantic reverb blasts…like a bass drum heard from miles below the surface of the earth. “She Would Stand Alone” sees deep and discordant bass notes wrapping around vibrating strings of metal…as if a piano has been gutted and transformed into some sort of ritualistic mallet instrument. And all around, droning cymbal taps like falling pebbles on infinite sheets of brass flow forwards and backwards in time.
A spiritual bath of radiant drone begins “He Closed His Eyes” before leading to a clattering and shambolic rhythm. Tin can percussion and wavering music box melodies are surrounded by glimmering streaks of audial silver and deep space atmospherics while spectacular reverb tails hover in place and vibrate with a sense of alien electricity. The barely there drum flow is accented by chain-off snare smashes and at some point, the very same looped and reversed voices from both “Amb 7” and “Amb 8” appear here as well, forming a subtle sonic thread weaving together all three parts of the Pablo’s Eye retrospective. The A-side the ends with “When You Were Asleep,” which offers a mental cleansing by way of spectral waves of new age shimmer and forms a direct contract to the preceding explorations of mystical darkness. Heavenly ambient washes are colored around the edges by narcotizing distortion smears and beneath it all, throbbing bass currents drift the spirit on a universal river of light.
“L.A. Desert” opens the B-side with Dark Matter’s first real semblance of rhythm, seeing cymbal taps, sparse kicks, and bubbling bass notes bringing more of that Badalamenti-style noir jazz. Marie glides over top with enigmatic dreamspell lyricisms while island bongos, synth blasts, and smokey fusion leads dance together. Exotic and unidentifiable voice samples drift above crystalline Rhodes chords and everything works together towards a downtempo drug sway. But as things progress, the vibe turns shadowy…almost funereal, and keeps Marie repeating “I’ve lost sense of hearing / dying couldn’t be worse”…a sentiment that is terrifying and all too relatable. Gaseous synths swell alongside diamond sound bursts as cosmic organs weave heavenly hymns and all the while, the vocals grow increasingly pleading…desperate…afraid. Thunder crashes and spring reverb flashes then begin “She Told Him The News,” while distorted voices cycle over ominous orchestrations and psychoactive drum ceremonies swirl in a vortex and sometimes recede completely into the maelstrom of droning noise.
“Tamil Nadu” features emotive contrabass soloing and fiery saxophones from Geoff Leigh…like the score of a detective movie abstracted into pure mood. Body-subsuming bass textures and spaced out electronics wash all around as massive rumbling sub-bass noises approximate thunderstorms. Elsewhere, the brass and bass scat through a nightmare land of jazz hysteria and it all ends with bowed double bass vapors drifting into pale starlight. After this, “A Pagan Use” builds on mysterious voices emanating from unknown dimensions that intertwine, merge, and create ghostly resonances. Electro-kicks bounce and mutate through cosmic echo-chains, static transmissions hover just beyond comprehension and at some point, tom-toms enter and skip across reverb coated bass pulses. Once the shadowclouds recede, they leave the drums to vibe out within heavily distorted voice broadcasts and as the ominous atmospherics swell back in, they gyrate and combust over sensual rhythmic throbs.
The dub side of Pablo’s Eye is showcased most overly on Dark Matter’s final two tracks, starting with “Out of the Corner of Her Eye.” Here, pounding and swamped out machine riddims crash through ethereal drone vapors. Globules of liquid bass rise up through viscous neon pools…their delirious patterns locking into a strange yet entrancing groove aside the swaggering rhythm boxes. Cymbals and snares fire off in a hypnotic dance while further horror film string drones wrap around the mix and voices seem to emanate from unseen corners of the mind…childlike and all the more disturbing because of it. Shuffling shaker and cymbal patterns enters, all anxious and futuristic, and the track evolves in a heady IDM ritual while terrify ambient clouds move in slow circles. Then in “Loisaida Dub,” celestial brass melodies are smeared into bodies of white light and repeated waves of mystical magic ebb and flow. Chaotic weavings of percussive psychedelia intersperse the rapturous walls of sound…these blipping laser clouds of sci-fi noise, intergalactic fx, and chittering insect laughter that contract the meditative pulses that work the mind towards transcendence. It’s a push/pull between blissful euphoria and psychoactive drone chaos…one that perfectly embodies the entire spirit of this mercurial group of artists.
(images from my personal copies)
#pablo's eye#axel libeert#marie mandi#thierry royo#richard skinner#STROOM#ziggy devriendt#nosedrip#nightfall in camp#ambient#post-rock#post-classical#experimental#dub#space rock#cosmic#drone#mystical#fusion#magical#beautiful#gorgeous#mournful#breakbeat#ecstasy#album reviews#vinyl reviews#music reviews#vinyl#sun lounge
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2500 words of hurt!Noct ignoct (with bonus Gladio carrying Noct bridal style), by me, in hopes of one day finishing it! Canon-divergent AU, because Ifrit is a summon in it (as he damn well should have been in the game,tyvm)
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There’s something to be said of their luck since leaving Insomnia - or rather the lack thereof - but stumbling into an actual nest of Malboros is a new low, even for them.
Ignis can only recall bits of the battle between crashing waves of illness, blindness, and disorientation. The monsters’ fetid breath, the slimy tentacles leaving blistering burns on skin, the sound of glass breaking and blessed cool energy soaking in, coming to his senses in time to see Prompto or Gladio or all three go down, tossing Phoenix Downs and Fire spells between them without having to pause or even look at each other, listening to his friends’ screams of pain beneath the shrieks of furious monsters, finally slaying one only for three more to surge forward. Prompto’s perfect aim and magic-infused bullets taking the heads off two of the young Malboros one after the other, Gladio’s greatsword cleaving another in two, trading his own daggers for a spear to break through the hard outer layer and pierce the heart of a fully mature one. And Noctis.
Noctis, a blur of energy and magic, feet never touching the ground, slashing and hacking and cleaving, fire surging from his hand one moment and the cool green relief of restorative magic the next, taking hard hits and picking himself back up, taking harder ones and lying unmoving until the skies rip apart and Ramuh picks him up instead.
Together the four of them kill two, six, nine of the twenty or so in the nest, but in the end it’s the Astrals that win the battle for them. They’ve run out of items, out of energy, out of strength. As seamless as the four of them have become in battle, they’re outmatched, end up helpless, struggling to keep their heads above swamp water, blind and deaf and dumb from the Malboros’ attack.
Fitting, then, that the monumental magic of the Crystal is a visceral, otherworldly thing. Ignis doesn’t need to see or hear - he can feel it in Noctis’s power that binds them, in the ethereal crackle of energy in the air. Noctis holds nothing back, terrified and furious, calling on the gods who have willingly bowed down before him and offered their aid. He calls them sparingly at the start of the battle and then one after another - Ramuh, Titan, Leviathan, Shiva, Bahamut - over and over until finally the most stubborn of them heeds his summons and appears, sweltering heat as the earth shakes and groans and opens up for Ifrit to rise. Ignis is swept out of the way by an enormous paw, hits the ground hard and lies dazed. His hearing returns in time to take in the agonized shrieks of the Malboros in the throes of Ifrit’s Hell Fire.
Then it’s over.
There’s a wash of cool light, a touch of soft fur across Ignis’s arm and then the now-familiar feeling of a pointed little horn pressing delicately to the center of his chest, and the sickness and blindness go too. The evening air is cool, crisp. Birds are singing, a creek is trickling somewhere nearby into the swamp. Ignis rolls to his front and gets to his knees, straightens his glasses to see Prompto and Gladio nearby doing the same.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” Prompto’s saying, laughing a little wetly, a little hysterically. “Holy <i>shit!</i> I can’t believe we made it.”
“Yeah, thought we were done,” Gladio admits, sounding rather shaken.
Ignis doesn’t say anything, his eyes on Noctis, who is standing thirty or so feet away at the edge of the swamp with his arm still outstretched, the pure light of a Cure spell still shimmering at his fingertips. His breathing is wet and audible even from so far away, his eyes a deep crimson. Slowly, his arm lowers. He sways, blinks.
His eyes are blue again when he opens them, and then they’re bleeding, blood falling like tears from the outside corners, gushing from his nose, dripping slick and wet from both ears. Ignis is stunned still; they all are, frozen with fear and horror. Noctis stumbles a step toward them, stops. He lifts his hand to his ashen face, and when it comes back stained red his eyes widen, expression changing under the blood, terrified. Ignis can feel him, Noctis’s magic weak but reaching for him anyway, always, urgent and vital and tinged sharp with his fear. In a small voice, Noctis says, “Ignis?” He manages one more unsteady step before his legs give out beneath him, his face suddenly slack and waxen, mouth open and eyes rolling back into his head as his body begins to seize. He falls. Ignis’s world stops spinning, tilts on its axis.
He hears the yell of <i>“Noct!”</i> echoing around the clearing before he realises he’s spoken, dragged out of him, tearing from his throat to hit the air raw and bloody. Gladio is closer, and the faster mover even with his bulk. He manages to get to Noct just in time to stop him from hitting his head on the ground, grunting with effort as he takes Noctis’s deadweight. Ignis skids to a halt on his knees next to them a moment later and Gladio doesn’t fight as Ignis pulls Noctis from him and into his own lap, bending over him, frantic.
His hands are covered in Noctis’s blood almost immediately, slippy-red and so much of it it feels fake, like a costume Noctis has put on, like a practical joke and any minute he’ll wipe it away and open his eyes and laugh at Ignis for worrying.
It doesn’t happen. Noctis isn’t joking. He doesn’t even move, still and limp. Noctis’s blood pressure must be rising through the roof, stasis so complete he’s in danger of stroking out, still trickling blood from nose and mouth and eyes. Ignis ignores it, fingers shaking as he feels for Noctis’s pulse.
“Noct, Noct,” Prompto pants, dropping to his knees next to them, his voice tremulous with terror and exertion. He’s as grubby and exhausted and worried as any of them, the fight taking a toll on them all, but Ignis hardly notices any of that. Can’t, not when Noctis’s breaths are fading in his lap. When Prompto shuffles closer, accidentally jostling Ignis and Noctis in his arms as he leans closer over his friend, and Ignis forgets himself in his panic.
“Give him space!” he snarls, and chokes himself off at the sharp slice of guilt that cuts into him when Prompto shrinks away from him, eyes big with shock and wet with tears. Noctis’s pulse is beating under Ignis’s fingers, slow, too slow, and soft, but steady.
“C’mon, hey, it’s okay,” Gladio says, drawing Prompto away and into his side, dropping an arm around his shoulders in a comforting half-hug as Prompto leans on him, gaze fixed on Noctis. Gladio says, “Ignis. <i>Ignis</i>. I got no potions left, you got anything?”
No. No, Ignis doesn’t have any left, because he’d used them all, back in the fight, because in the middle of that wretched battle he’d thought he’d known what desperation was.
“I got one,” Prompto blurts, delving into his pockets. He looks almost afraid to creep back in close enough to hand it to Ignis, but Ignis doesn’t need him to; he’s not going to take his hands off Noct even long enough to pour a potion down his unresisting throat. He wants to apologize but can’t pry the words from his trembling mouth, able only to think them uselessly as he manages a sick-feeling smile and jerks his head to invite Prompto closer, <i>I’m sorry</i>.
Nevertheless, Prompto seems to understand. He grins back, always so easy to forgive, and unearths the potion from one of his pockets with a triumphant sound as he scrambles back to Noctis’s side. He’s about to break the potion over Noctis like usual, but Gladio catches his hand and says, “He needs to drink some first, in case there’s anything internal.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Prompto says in a high, quick voice, nodding so vigorously his head must rattle, and rearranges his grip on the flask to pulls the seal away and open the mouth of it instead. Ignis tilts Noctis’s head up a little and between them Gladio and Prompto manage to get a little bit of the potion into him, Ignis stroking gentle fingers over his throat to encourage him to swallow and feel the movement when he does. They wait for a short eternity for the magic to take, and when Noctis finally takes a shuddery breath, slowly rouses enough to actively swallow another mouthful, the relief leaves Ignis trembling. He brushes Noctis’s hair out of his eyes as they flutter open, glazed and dull with exhaustion.
“There he is,” Gladio says, sounding as weak with relief as Ignis feels, smile obvious in his tone. He checks Noctis’s pulse with steady fingers and then pats his torso down gently, feeling for injuries, before taking the open flask from Prompto’s unresisting hands and breaking it over Noctis’s middle. The remainder of their lone potion splashes over his thin chest and torso and is immediately absorbed, leaving behind only the residue of the catalyst that Noctis had used when he created the curative, fizzy bright green energy drink staining his t-shirt and sticky on the patches of skin showing through where the fabric has been shredded. Gladio says, “All right, how we feelin’, princess?”
Noctis croaks out a, “Fine,” and hardly reacts when Gladio gives his hair an affectionate ruffle. His glazed eyes follow Gladio’s hand as it lifts away, gaze passing slowly over Prompto and Gladio, filthy and bruised and grinning, and then up to Ignis, who smiles down at him weakly. Noctis’s brow furrows and he lifts a hand glimmering with healing magic to Ignis’s cheek, where a cut is still bleeding sluggishly. Ignis takes his hand before he can touch it and expend more energy that he doesn’t have and lowers it back down, squeezing briefly when Noctis frowns at him. It would be cute if his face wasn’t still gruesomely streaked in blood.
“Don’t start,” he scolds.
“That was fucking awesome, Noct,” Prompto says earnestly. “Don’t ever do it again, okay?”
Noctis makes a pathetic attempt to wave a hand at him and Prompto laughs, reckless drawn out giggles that are most certainly hysterical this time. He keels over exhaustedly and drops onto his backside in the grass, covering his eyes with shaking hands. “God, what a day. I can’t believe that happened. Did that really happen? That tipster guy at Meldacio said it was just one. He even had a <i>flyer</i>. You know how many Malboros were on that flyer?” Prompto holds up a single finger, ever theatric. “You guessed it, one. There was only supposed to be <i>one.</i>” He huffs a loud sigh and rakes his fingers through his hair, dragging it back off his forehead and pulling it tight with his hands flat on top of his head so his whole face moves with it, making him look three-quarters crazed instead of just half. “I knew that was too much cash for a single monster hunt. Bullshit. I’m sleeping for the next ten years.”
Gladio snorts and catches Prompto by the shoulder to keep him upright when he tries to flop onto his back. “Not yet, kid. We still got a nice long hike back to the car, and it’ll be dark soon.” He pats Prompto vaguely on the head at the answering groan of despair. “We can loosen the purse strings a little though, get a room tonight. Right, Iggy? ”
Ignis nods, still unable to tear his eyes away from Noctis and using the time to gently clean the blood from his face with the hem of his soaked shirt. “Yes, of course. We should have enough for a suite, and the reward money for this should cover us for a few days once we cash it in.”
“Days?” Prompto says hopefully.
“We could all use the rest,” Ignis replies. Noctis lies shivering and pale in Ignis’s lap, abnormally quiet even for him, his gaze distant and unfocused and his reaction time slow when Ignis strokes his wrist and says his name. He’s still dangerously drained and very weak, lacking the energy to even keep his body heat at a normal level in the cold air, and Ignis can tell how shaken he is by what happened. He needs real rest. They all do.
No one is faring well after such an absolute clusterfuck of a battle, and even with the motivation of a hot shower and a real bed at the finish line, it takes longer than it should to finally gather their wits enough to move, spurred on by the sudden crash of thunder and the clouds opening up overhead with a steady rainfall. Gladio gathers Noctis carefully up into his arms and stands, and it’s testament to how poorly Noctis must be feeling that he doesn’t protest being picked up like a child or insist on trying to make it to the car on his own two feet as he normally would, but curls up a bit as though to make himself smaller and tiredly rests his cheek on Gladio’s chest.
“Noct,” Prompto says gently, apparently lost for other words. He’s twitchy and restless with worry, freckles stark on his too-pale face and fists clenched at his sides. As Gladio turns and starts to make his way out of the swamp toward the walking trail, Ignis hangs back with Prompto for a moment and rests a hand on his shoulder.
“He’ll be all right,” says Ignis.
“Yeah, I know. He’s just…” Prompto murmurs, trailing off into silence for several seconds, lost in thought as they start off after Gladio’s retreating form. Eventually, he says, “He seems scared, y'know? Seems unlike him. Or, I dunno, maybe it’s not. He’s been dealing with this stuff his whole life, right? Maybe he’s always been scared and I just never knew.”
Ignis feels a tug at his heartstrings in the face of his friend’s obvious uncertainty, wishing he could offer some encouragement or words of comfort and reassurance that Prompto’s chronic insecurity would allow him to actually believe and knowing nothing but time and experience will be able to bolster his fractured confidence.
“I know, as are we all,” Ignis tells him in his kindest voice, returning the faint grateful smile Prompto gives him, “but Noct will be fine. We’ll make sure of it, as soon as we’re out of this bloody swamp. Shall we?”
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The traits of Fours and Fives tend to reinforce each other. Both are "withdrawn" types: Fours withdraw to protect their feelings; fives, to protect their security. Thus, this subtype is more reclusive and less ambitious than a four with a three wing. Fours with a five wing will be markedly more observant of the environment, particularly of other people. There is an intellectual depth and intensity here not found in the other subtype, but also a corresponding social insecurity. This subtype can be more insightful and original, but also less likely to do concrete work. Note-worthy examples of the four with a five wing include Virginia Woolf, Edgar Allan Poe, Anne Rice, Ingmar Bergman, D. H. Lawrence, Yukio Mishima, J. D. Salinger, Johnny Depp, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Saul Steinberg, Soren Kierkegaard, Herman Hesse, William Blake, and "Laura Wingfield".
Healthy, gifted individuals of this subtype are probably the most profoundly creative of all the types because they combine intuition with insight, emotional sensitivity with intellectual comprehension, frequently with stunning, even prophetic results. Fours with a five wing burn brighter than Fours with a three wing, but at the risk of burning themselves out faster. They are often drawn to the arts and social sciences, where their insights into the human condition can be explored. Because of the five wing, individuals of this subtype care less about the opinions of others, so they tend to follow their muse where it leads them. Their self-expression is highly personal and can be somewhat idiosyncratic. They tend to create more for themselves than for an audience.
Average persons of this subtype are given not merely to self absorption but to philosophical and religious speculation. Their emotional world is the dominant reality, but with a strong intellectual cast. People of this subtype tend to be loners, more lacking in social connectedness than the other subtype. Thus, their artistic expressions more completely substitute for the person than in fours with a three wing. They often display brilliant flashes of insight but have trouble sustaining their efforts. These people also frequently have an otherworldly, ethereal quality about them; they are extremely independent and unconventional to the point of eccentricity. They also tend to be secretive, intensely preoccupied with their thoughts, and purposely enigmatic in their self expression. Their creative ideas may be somewhat unusual, emphasizing the mysterious, even the surreal. They are very attracted to the exotic and the symbolic and tend to be more unusual than their personal presentation--bohemian or, at least, casual. Members of this subtype care little for communicating with those who cannot understand them. Rather, they are interested in expressing their inner vision, whether sublime or terrifying, bleak or lyrical. They tend to choose a simpler lifestyle than Fours with a three wing, but can get caught up in the five's minimizing of needs. Aspects of the five's eccentricity begin to manifest, as well as a high-strung nervous energy. Less healthy fours with a five wing can become very reclusive, daydreaming through life with baroque fantasies and ideas, but increasingly tormented by self doubt and unable to galvanize themselves into constructive action.
Unhealthy persons of this subtype inhabit a particularly barren inner world. There is a self-denying, even life-denying, element of inner resistance to everything outside the self, throwing all of the four's existential problems into sharper relief. They may have great understanding of their problems, but can more easily become lost in emotional turmoil--fatigue, depression, and hopelessness. Indeed, pondering the nature of their torment leads Fours with a five wing around in circles, heightening both their self contempt and their nihilism. Since Four is the fundamental personality type, Fours with a Five wing are assailed by self doubt, alienation from others, inhibitions in their work, and self-contempt. To the degree that the Five wing plays a part in the overall personality, unhealthy fours with this subtype will also resist being helped by anyone, thus increasing their alienation from others. They also tend to project their fears onto the environment, resulting in distorted thinking patterns which may include hallucinations and phobias. Not only are people of this subtype subject to torment from their self-hatred, they can see little positive outside themselves, and become very pessimistic about the apparent meaningless of life. Of all the personality types, people of this subtype are potentially the most isolated from themselves and from reality. They are prone to the depressive forms of schizophrenia.
Personality Types, Ruso and Hudson
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In Peru, 11- to 14-year-old students have been consistently complaining of being followed by a "tall, black shadowy figure of a large and imposing man” that has repeatedly chased them all around campus, clearly with the intention of killing them or of causing them serious harm or anguish.
"It's incredibly disturbing to seriously contemplate, let alone personally experience, the after-effects and panic of what has been harassing and scaring the children around here,” says head mistress Marlee McDonaugh. “It's as if someone wouldn’t stop chasing me away from behind," a 12-year-old reportedly said just today. "It seemed to be a very tall dark man with indistinguishable or practically non-existent features, and it felt like he was trying to strangle me as I continued to run away from his shadow for the last twenty minutes straight! My friend later told me that I was screaming in terror the entire time, but I don't remember any of that.... I can only recall how scary it was and that it was very obvious to me that if I had even once stopped running away from it that he, or it, really, would have seriously hurt or even killed me.. I had never been that scared for my life ever before today!" The Peruvian incident reportedly began at the end of April, 2016. "We don't understand how this has remained an on-going problem for us here at the school," Dr. Antony Choy told the national network Panamericana TV.
Nearly 100 students in attendance at a Malaysian middle school have been complaining about being terrorized by a shadowy black figure of what has been ambiguously reported seemingly to be the tall and imposing `shape of an adult man’, which has been panicking many of them by daily chasing them swiftly by relentlessly following them all around the school campus before and after school and during recess and lunch breaks! The school itself also happens to be a well documented hot-spot of paranormal incidents dating all the way back to the early eighteenth century, in what is now being referred to by the ministry of education as well as by local authorities, as a literal pandemic of "contagious demonic possession and dark spiritual interactive harassment," according to recent reportage. Thousands of miles apart from the school in Peru, there are practically identical accounts supported by a good number of terrified children, of a similarly dark, shadowy figure who is allegedly paralyzing students with fear at the Malaysian campus so much so that on April 20, 2016, the school temporarily closed it’s doors and dismissed all of it’s student body and faculty indefinitely due to the mass hysteria and psychosis being collectively generated due to the overwhelming sightings and threats posed by the actions of this "black figure," according to the Telegraph.
Authorities resorted to calling in a survey of Islamic experts in paranormal activity and poltergeist hauntings, to hopefully identify and then cleanse the learning institution and it’s surrounding forestry of the alleged dark forces. They also requested the assistance of a who’s-who list of accredited, noted local paranormal scholars, demonic exorcists, holy men and witch doctors in order to hopefully ascertain any kind of helpful information and or insight into the real cause of this strange and terrifying dilemma and to hopefully reclaim the harmony and peace of the school campus by isolating and removing the alleged demonic spiritual presence.
"Our students were daily being disturbed and tormented by this spiritual unrest for a good number of agonizing, terrifying months now.... Those higher-ups in the school’s administration finally decried that enough was in fact quite enough!! We never became educated with the knowledge of precisely what it was that we and our students had been dealing with, but we did feel quite conclusively that regardless of whatever the nature of the phenomena actually was, that it was high time we took the situation as abjectly serious and not to be mocked nor the adverse affects be diminished nor disregarded as potentially vehemently dangerous and of major negative consequence. We here have been so disturbingly robbed of all necessary elements which are mandatory elements securely in place and in check to assure the psychological as well as physical and spiritual safety of our impressionable youngsters. The entire surrounding wilderness locations as well as the mere functionality of our continuing operation as a successful place of learning had suffered a noticeable psychic abrasion as of late, you can sense it brooding disquietingly all around as you walk about the facility. The entire geography of the place remains completely uncomfortable-feeling and is further devoid of any and all of it’s elements of previously well-balanced peaceful, mindful, meditative sanctity, emotional and psychologically necessary components much necessarily in check so as to maintain a degree and monicker of not only unilateral qualification, but too of just that hint of an ephemeral ether reflecting outwards it’s core of prideful dignity and inarguable tradition of upholding its rightful vibrations of intelligence, standards and virtuous taste so vital and of such unspoken importance and validity to an institution of higher learning," a long-winded douche bag school official recently told the BBC. "However, one must harken back to the hard facts and realities that the centuries-old buildings which make up our labyrinth of classrooms, libraries, laboratories, gymnasiums, industrial shops, zoological gardens, kitchens, dining halls, snack shops, dormitories, main halls, surgeries, communications centers, little theatres, playgrounds, detention halls, quads, pergolas, hallways, restrooms, locker rooms and administrative as well as janitorial closets, offices and recreational rooms consist of about twelve sizeable but considerably much older buildings left over from another time and place, which are further protected for all time as historical landmarks of the district, forbidden to demolish, rebuild, alter or raze in any form, and, just up until April of this year, had ever remained in a positive light and its upkeep and maintenance widely regarded as a matter of great civic honor and personal pride in observance of the longevity of this institution, which had just celebrated being in continuous operation over the course of the last ninety-five years without ever closing it’s doors for anything other than Spring, Summer or Christmas break. This is only my personal opinion of matters, mind you, however It would behoove me not to bring to your attention what follows..... As a good percentage of young people these days seem to have a predisposition for self-absorption, mostly behaving disobediently and also usually behaving overall as a future generation of rather unctuous, bad-mannered and spoiled brats (rotten to their very core being) coupled with my own personal distaste for their noxious and habitual tendency to indiscriminately litter the grounds, other peoples spaces, campus, public transport, wilderness areas, parking lots and even their very own living spaces with a seemingly neverending supply of rubbish, garbage, empty food and drink containers, cigarettes, used condoms, the lot, indiscriminately tossed about over just about every last inch of floor of locations they regularly frequent, but ESPECIALLY covering every available inch of square footage making up the school grounds and also seeming to give little to no regard or respect whatsoever to the loveliness and naturally gorgeous forest of beautiful nature and wilderness which surrounds the campus on all sides, these headstrong and self-important youngsters seemingly never even capable of giving a thought of kindness and or care for what if anything our lovely world and what just might eventually become of it all should the majority of the future populace all share in that childish, shameless disregard of mother nature, the planet itself and toward other life forms with which we share the planet and its bounties with. Maybe (just maybe, mind you!) perhaps it is their disrespectful actions that could conceivably be the catalyst that generated the otherworldly discontent, abuse and threat which they have been on the receiving end of in recent times, seeming to be the single age bracket of living beings which are currently and world-wide at the epicentre of dark ghostly retaliation as represented so consistently via such scary and unidentifiable, ambiguous torment, the young people themselves, you see, having caused the rippling effect due to being the responsible parties of having so intellectually offended and insulted the pristine condition of an historical geography, potential birth places coupled with the likelihood of also having doubled as final resting place as well, of this dimensional location, of which and also unto which it now becomes quite clearly apparent that we currently living human beings going on about our daily lives here on Earth REALLY DO, and probably ALWAYS HAVE shared these instances and locations within this stretch of space/time here on our beloved homeworld with those entities inhabiting parallel dimensions or maybe even which we must respect and contemplate the true meaning and imperatives inherent in the very likely probability that we do share this time in space, the geography, dirt and stone and rock and vegetation with not only pandimensional beings but also with the remaining existing essences and energies of those of our own species who have already passed onto the other side of known existence.... It is imperative that we begin to re-educate ourselves as well as generations to follow that we must take good care of and treat with a proper decorum of actual conscious respect all of these myriad elements and other life forms, matrixes, vibrational signals, forms of life and easily exhaustible resources which the planet was only so gracious to begin with for even offering us the utilization of to begin with.... Mightn’t it be a conceivably possible likelihood that, in the chaos and illogic further informing, dictating and allowing their inexperienced haste and unbalanced, childish, unenlightened disregard that they just might possibly have gotten the attention of and even then blindly, unassumingly continued to add insult to injury by daily, consistently and finally, unbearably awakened the anger and discontent of random, closely, unknowingly neighboring dark 'djinns' or any other myriad variety or instances of randomly occurring disembodied spirits, sprites, mythical creatures, demons, angels, fallen, largely forgotten-about minor deities of olde and any other unmentioned possible likelihood of spiritual essence continuing to reside among and remaining in and around the area of our school?"
A few weeks prior to the Malaysian case, Female Muslim students at a boarding school located twenty miles outside of Paris, France, also began exhibiting distressing behaviors and actions known to be consistent with outbreaks and communal occurrences of alleged demonic possession. An Imam was asked to attempt to cast the dark forces out of the school, but parents became very vocal with hostility and furious in their concern for their children’s well-being before, during and even much farther on down the road and after the fact, by steadfastly refusing to allow any such spiritual cleansing, intervention, witch-hunt or outdated religion-based sickness or paranoia.
The BBC have been reporting and collecting a vast collective library documenting a surprising and increasing number of similarly disturbing and potentially harmful cases such as these I’ve just mentioned here, of pure, concentrated spiritual unrest and physically-threatening revolt against many different nationalities of the world’s children, which have been regularly mentioned in articles originally appearing only regionally in local news reportage, the bulk of this rising tide largely dating back only to our contemporary ancestors from the early 1980s, with very little mention in any such historical records kept dating back thousands and thousands of years, ever indicating any similar historical instances of such consistent, concentrated and world-wide epidemic proportions.
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Reviews 107: Mårble
Anton Glebov is a fourth world wanderer who has been releasing music as Mårble for a few years now. He tends toward delirious tapestries comprised of field recordings, heady world music, far-out jazz, and the more esoteric strains of 90s ambient techno and house, a style that hit its high point earlier this year with Diego (on Not Not Fun). And now, Anton inaugurates Nummer’s new Natural Selections imprint with the spellbinding Elixir of Immortality. At over 50 minutes in length and including contributions from Slavik Ipatov on woodwinds and Mikhail Gavrilov on synths and guitar, this feels like the most realized and expansive Mårble outing yet…a feverish journey through rainforest rhythms, otherworldly flute and sax, exotic breakbeats, kosmische synthesizers, and layers and layers of morphing spectral ambiance.
Mårble - Elixir of Immortality (Natural Selections, 2018) In “Golden Bells,” shimmering pads sound as if some colossal machine is sucking all of the air of out existence and then slowly releasing it back…over and over and over. Textures like futuristic windchimes intertwine with skipping static fx, everything swirling together into a vortex of breathtaking cosmic atmosphere. As a meditative flute joins the spiritual flow and percolating arps fade into and out of the polychromatic mist, a massive bass sequence is introduced, all grooving subaqueous synth funk that begs for a loved up rhythm but must suffice with minimalist cymbal patterns instead. Metallic sequences swathed in reverb fade in as well, forming a sort of robotic space music as they intertwine with the strange disjointed arps and periodic blasts of rhythmic static. But eventually it all fades away as those huge walls of breathing vocal synthesis are reintroduced, bringing with them the flute and its dreamtime dance. This drone epic is followed by the surprising rhythmic force of “4.19,” wherein atonal rainforest hand drums and shadowy drones are joined by a huge angular breakbeat. It’s IDM classicism as blasted into the center of the sun…futuristic and alien, but with its toes still dipping into ravey waters. At some point the beats are filtered out of focus, leaving behind an epic section of magical Don Cherry mysticism, with tribal forest percussion and spritely wood flutes dancing. And once that addictive break smashes back in, its backdrop of haunted synth smears is now colored over top by woodwind psychedelia.
Our first taste of saxophone comes in “Archipelago” as skronking astral plane explorations sit above ceremonial drum work, expressive flute trills, and the sounds of extra-terrestrial cave liquids dripping from every surface. It brings to mind those wild Art Ensemble of Chicago albums on BYG Actuel and Mårble’s own “Para la Olimpiada”, with ritualistic saxophone fire surrounded by a panorama of exotic percussion. But “Archipelago” is a much freer trip overall, especially towards the end where blistering passages of jazz drum fury are stuffed between African leaning minimalism, percussion mimicking jungle frogs, and those delirious flutes flying into outerspace. “Schwarzenegger’s Cry” sees murky beats dropping into glowing pools of neon…echo smeared…reverbed into indistinction. Beautiful noir sax lines float freely alongside 50s sci-fi fx and pitched down vocal samples, while a shadow of a rhythm forms from stuttering bass drums and machine claps. It’s cinematic and vaguely sinister, like walking city streets late at night and deep within a bad trip, floating on air as amorphous forces and bodies of energy circle all around, with the heartbreaking saxophone streaks as the only guide back to earthly realms. And even these soon fly away into a dark and burning sky with moaning, wailing fury, accompanied by kick, claps, and the disturbing drip-drops of incandescent alien substances.
The B-side begins in the sunshine of “Tahiti.” A bright and balearic glide develops from hazy keyboard tones and island rhythms, with more pitch shifted voice samples drifting on the oceanic currents. Thumping bass notes work their way into a breezy walk alongside hypnotic shakers and clicks, though the waters become occasionally choppy as the rhythms take on an anxious energy and modulated flutes fly freely into the clouds. And then out of nowhere, Anton disrupts the trip entirely with several extreme tempo shifts across the whole mix…first speeding things up, then slowing them down for a leaned out and druggy coda. “Aquarium” is also soaked in daylight, with anthemic synth pads ascending into the realms of 90s ambient glory. But rather than drop into a massive beat, we shift instead into a tropical sway, with harsh cymbals keeping time while captivating and strange fx send the seaside guitars bouncing ear to ear. This lysergic backdrop supports vibrant six-string exotica, seeing soft tremolo picking surfing on waves of sunshine over the skittering hypno-rhythms. Elsewhere on the B-side sits “Vyāsa” and its Boards of Canada style collage work, with morphing analog fx that are as disturbing as they are wondrous. A subdued rhythm rises from the depths as ghostly chimes dance intoxicatingly, forming a sort of barely there funk flow out of scattering bass guitar notes. And overhead, orchestras smothered in broadcast static drift chaotically and unidentifiable percussion accents are refracted through interstellar fx.
“Seaside” is less peaceful than its name implies, with ominous bass clouds underlying a futuristic downtempo jazz beat and breathy, romantic, and seductive saxophone streaks referencing the slow motion horror jazz of Bohren & der Club of Gore. Dubwise echoes are adrift in the background ether and too loud tambourines flash into the mix to disturb the flow until once again, Anton drops a surprising and slamming beat, letting the rhythms and sax work together for a captivating ending. If this song recalls the seaside, it must be after the sun has gone down, with the terrifying yet beautiful image of billowing and flashing thunderheads on the horizon. Our swim in the Elixir of Immortaility ends at “Hanging Gardens,” featuring a hallucinatory rhythm of sumptuous percussive bass notes and rolling hand drums. Flutey effects sounding like outer-dimensional birds and noisey synths cascade through the mix, occasionally taking over and washing the percussion out completely. These moments leave us adrift on some river of fantasy, the sounds of never before discovered fauna intermixing with a beatific ambiance emanating from the water itself. But eventually the body moving bass flow returns, now under layers of dub fx and accompanied by shakers and hand drums as everything builds back to a playful forest dance.
(images from my personal copy)
#mårble#anton glebov#nummer#natural selections#elixir of immortality#slavik ipatov#mikhail gavrilov#woodwinds#spectral ambience#drone#fourth world#spiritual jazz#free jazz#idm#ambient house#breakbeats#tribal#tropical#balearic#hypnotic#futuristic#dreamy#ambient#new age#album reviews#vinyl reviews#vinyl#music reviews#2018#sun lounge
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