#vortex magma

[nerdgirldice]

Chessex Vortex Magma w/ Black (CHX LE673)

Chessex Vortex Magma w/ Black (CHX LE673) has a translucent orange-red base mixed with opaque yellow swirls, with black numbers or pips.

The yellow swirls blend with the orange-red base to form multiple hues in the red-orange-yellow spectrum.

Vortex Magma is out of production.

All photos © 2025 by Andrea Callison

Find me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nerdgirldice/

[keferon]

Are you perhaps hiding any more vortex doodles from us that you would be willing to share? I like the silly attitude you give him lol

I’m Always hiding some Vortex (TexAid to be exact) doodles haha

Me and @hodd1 draw them all the time bc they’re our favourite niche goblins

Vortex design is based on Disformer's art

[wayti-blog]

"Lunar swirls are light-colored, sinuous features on the Moon’s surface, bright enough to be visible from a backyard telescope. Some people think they look like the brushstrokes in an abstract painting. But these are not mere artistic flourishes: NASA images show that the tendrils from some lunar swirls extend for hundreds of miles.

Lunar swirls have defied easy explanation, but recent modeling and spacecraft data shed light on the twisty mystery. The data shows that rocks in the swirls are magnetized, and these rocks deflect or redirect solar wind particles that constantly bombard the Moon. Nearby rocks take the hit instead. Over time, neighboring rocks become darkened by chemical reactions caused by the collisions, while the swirls remain light colored.

But how did the rocks in lunar swirls get magnetized?"

continue reading

[astrstqr]

MAGIC 2͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏─── ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏禅 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏[ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ FANTASY DR ͏ ͏͏ ͏]

yoncé speaks: for the lovely anon who asked for more spells

SPELLS ! ✩

✶ Reality Warp: Alter the battlefield to your advantage by manipulating the environment. Create or destroy terrain, summon barriers, or change the properties of the area to hinder enemies and aid allies.

✶ Genesis Wave: A powerful creation spell that can generate new structures, landscapes, or even life forms. Use it to build fortifications, create allies, or reshape the battlefield to your liking.

✶ Eden's Garden: Create a lush, vibrant garden that heals allies, entangles enemies, and produces magical fruits that grant temporary power boosts.

✶ Quantum Shift: Alter the properties of objects and terrain, turning solid ground into liquid, walls into doorways, and weapons into harmless objects.

✶ Arcane Arsenal: Conjures an array of magical weapons that float around the caster, ready to strike at nearby enemies. The weapons can be of various types, dealing different kinds of damage.

✶ Prismatic Elemental Storm: Combine all elemental magics into a devastating storm of fire, water, earth, air, and lightning. This spell can target multiple enemies, creating chaos on the battlefield.

✶ Aurora Veil: A defensive spell that creates a shimmering barrier of light and ice around allies, reflecting and absorbing incoming attacks while slowly healing those within its radius.

✶ Elemental Confluence: Combines the power of the four classical elements—earth, air, fire, and water—into a devastating attack that deals massive damage and affects a large area.

✶ Verdant Surge: Causes a rapid growth of plants and vines in the area, which can entangle enemies, create cover, or provide a boost to nature-based magic.

✶ Glacial Prison: Encases a target in a block of ice, immobilizing them and dealing cold damage over time. Can also be used defensively to shield allies.

✶ Volcanic Eruption: Causes a violent burst of magma to erupt from the ground, dealing fire and earth damage over a wide area and creating hazardous terrain.

✶ Abyssal Tsunami: Control the ocean to create a massive wave imbued with dark energy, capable of engulfing and draining the life force of enemies.

✶ Thunderstorm Armament: Envelop yourself in a storm of lightning, increasing your speed and reflexes while discharging electricity with each attack.

✶ Gale Force Prison: Trap enemies in a swirling vortex of wind that immobilizes them and slices through their defenses with razor-sharp gusts.

✶ Frostbite Field: Create a vast area of extreme cold that freezes everything in its path, slowing down enemies and making the terrain hazardous.

✶ Quicksand Trap: Manipulate the earth to form quicksand beneath your enemies, pulling them down and immobilizing them.

✶ Meteor Shower: Call down a barrage of meteors from the sky, causing widespread devastation and igniting the battlefield.

✶ Fireball Volley: Launch a rapid series of fireballs at multiple targets, causing explosive damage.

✶ Ice Spear: Create a sharp spear of ice that can pierce through armor and freeze the target on impact.

✶ Lightning Bolt: Summon a concentrated bolt of lightning that strikes with pinpoint accuracy, stunning and electrocuting the target.

✶ Rock Barrier: Erect a sturdy wall of rock that provides cover and can be used to block enemy attacks.

✶ Water Whip: Control a stream of water to lash out at enemies, binding and restraining them with powerful currents.

✶ Wind Blade: Form a blade of compressed air that slices through enemies with the speed and sharpness of a razor.

✶ Flame Cloak: Envelop yourself in a cloak of fire, enhancing your physical attacks and burning anyone who comes into contact with you.

✶ Tidal Wave: Summon a large wave of water to sweep away enemies and create a barrier or path.

✶ Earthquake: Shake the ground violently, causing enemies to lose balance and fall while creating fissures that can trap or hinder movement.

✶ Blizzard: Create a powerful snowstorm that reduces visibility, slows down enemies, and inflicts frost damage over time.

✶ Thunder Clap: Generate a deafening shockwave of sound and lightning that stuns and disorients enemies.

✶ Magma Burst: Cause molten rock to erupt from the ground, creating hazardous terrain and dealing continuous fire damage.

yoncé speaks: hope you like :D

[blueiscoool]

Submerged Roman Villa Emerges in Lake Fusaro

The remains of a Roman village complex have started to emerge from the waters of Lake Fusaro due to a process of geological uplift known as bradysism.

Lake Fusaro is located in the comune of Bacoli in the Italian province of Naples. The lake and surrounding area are situated in the Phlegraean Fields, an active and volatile volcanic region of bradyseismic activity.

Bradyseism refers to the slow rise (positive bradyseism) or fall (negative bradyseism) of a section of the Earth’s surface, driven by the movement of magma or hydrothermal fluids beneath the ground.

The Phlegraean Fields sits within a collapsed caldera, namely a volcanic area formed by several volcanic edifices, which includes the Solfatara volcano, well known for its fumaroles (vents from which hot volcanic gases and vapours are emitted).

Adjacent to the lake are the partially submerged remains of the Roman town of Baiae, a popular resort in antiquity that gained a reputation for a “hedonistic lifestyle”. According to Sextus Propertius, a poet of the Augustan age during the 1st century BC, Baiae was a “vortex of luxury” and a “harbour of vice”.

On the opposite side of the Gulf of Naples are the remains of Roman Pompeii and Herculaneum, both major population centuries in antiquity that were buried under thick layers of ash and pumice during the AD 79 eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

According to a study by the National Institute of Geophysics and Volcanology, the area of Lake Fusaro has been rising since 2005, having rised in elevation by approximately 138 centimetres, 20 centimetres of which were recorded in 2024 alone.

This rapid acceleration has caused the seabed to rise and the shoreline to retreat, causing damage and difficult access to some ports and marinas along the coast.

An unexpected result of the bradyseismic activity is the emergence of a Roman villa visible in aerial photography. Josi Gerardo Della Ragione, the Mayor of Bacoli, explained that the villa likely had thermal baths, which will now be studied by the Superintendence of Archaeology, Fine Arts and Landscape of Naples.

[lavatichellborn]

[GRIFFIN ROCK ADVANCED RESEARCH ARCHIVES - DECLASSIFIED FILE]

FILE NO. 01939-BB

CLASS: LEVEL ALPHA

STATUS: TERMINATED

PROJECT TITLE: Project Blackbird

DATE OF ORIGIN: February 2, 1934

DATE OF INITIAL COMPLETION: March 21, 1939

INITIAL DEACTIVATION: April 1, 1939

FOUNDING SCIENTISTS:

Dr. Thaddeus Morocco ██

Dr. Elma Hendrickson

(4 other researchers on the board)

INITIAL PURPOSE:

Temporal Displacement Study

Multidimensional Stabilization

(Layman’s terms: Time Travel Machine)

Overview: Initial Production (1934-1939)

Project Blackbird was initiated under the supervision of Dr. Thaddeus Morocco and Dr. Elma Hendrickson, focusing on chronometric field manipulation and temporal anchoring using the geothermal vents beneath the island. Utilizing the resources within the caverns below Mount Griffin, a prototype was produced and transferred to an underground laboratory under Mount Magma (FILE NO. 32891-MM).

The project was sought to create a long-term goal of traversable time displacement. Like several other projects this was kept out of the public view due to its sheer size and possible complications. Only the scientific board of Griffin Rock, headed by Dr. Morocco, and the Mayor of the time were the only ones to know about its existence.

Audio Log Fragments (1939)

[Log #34 - Dr. Hendrikson]

"The calculations hold, but the gravitational stabilization and ground flux index leave the bridge unable to anchor into reality. The pulse continues to choke each time we active it. We've already had one injured personnel member due to an iltrux burst that sent them crashing into a console."

[Log #46 - Dr. Morocco]

"We managed to stabilize the energy core and anchor the machine. The location we were in before was not ideal for the amount of vacuum that was produced. One of our fellow professors had to be hospitalized after the vacuum sent an entire box of screws into their back. He's alive but now the mayor is wondering if funding should continue due to all the setbacks. We can not, and will not let this project die, not on my watch."

[Log #58 - Dr. Morocco]

"IT'S DONE, IT'S OVER!! HE PULLED THE DAMN FUNDING! SHUT IT DOWN, SHUT EVERYTHING DOWN!"

[Log #59 - Dr. Hendrikson]

"...After several incidents involving injuries and unexplained localized amnesia to personnel. Including a major blowout that caused a destabilization of the laboratory, and a minor earthquake in the surrounding area, thank god no one died. ...our funding has been pulled. We are unable to continue with this project henceforth, and it shall be placed in an indefinite suspension."

REACTIVATION

DATE: February 18, 2000

AUTHORIZED BY:

Dr. Ezra Greene

█████████████████

Overview: Reignition

Project Blackbird was reinstated when Dr. Greene and ████████ found old black site files of Griffin Rock during its Shadow Age, and with the authorization from Mayor Luskey, the project was back online. The experiment would involve refining the aperture stability and explore micro-temporal displacement. Initial tests proved to be successful as they were able to send an apple back in time by one minute, creating a minor vortex loop. With this, they continued on into greater testing.

INCIDENT REPORT

April 3, 2000 - CORE OVERLOAD

Registered Time: 16:42

Results:

Sudden atmospheric pressure drop

Energy spike recorded 500% predicted maximum

Security footage corrupted to the point of complete system shutdown

Internal lab clocks unsynchronized by 43 minutes

Injury Report:

Dr. Greene - Class III traumatic amputation (left arm)

█████████████████████████

Additional Personnel on staff - minor injuries

Post Event:

All personnel and the civilian population within a 3-mile radius report partial memory loss spanning 6-12 hours. Photographic evidence and data logs contain missing metadata. Personnel entries indicate that entire lab access records, voice recognition logs, and internal project files had been wiped from the system.

Blueprints and diagrams originally within the network now no longer have listed credentials or biometric data. Despite evidence that the project was authorized and reinstated by two high-class scientists with Alpha-level access, only Dr. Greene has that authority; no other scientist on Griffin Rock and the communication lines were able to clear it.

Project Status:

Terminated. Facility sealed under ordinance GR-42. Lab permanently locked down, with trespassers to be punished for entering.

Official records indicate Project Blackbird was operated solely by Dr. Greene during its reactivation window.

Final Entry:

"There's a space in the photo. As if someone is supposed to be there. I was holding onto something when the overload happened. Something I held on so tightly that it resulted in losing my arm. I wish I could remember what that was."

-Dr. Ezra Greene, private notes (unpublished)

[blasteffect]

Mount Etna's "Volcanic Vortex Rings"

The rings appeared for the first time since last December when a small vent opened on the Southeast cater. This phenomenon rarely occurs because of the specific conditions required for the vapors and gases to produce the forms.

When enough pressure builds up inside the volcano, magma inside the crater propels condensed gases like water vapor up through the vent.

Courtesy: The Straits Times

[polo-drone-767]

Good news/ Bad News: Journey to the Center of the Earth

While the upcoming game against the Neon Vortex is important, the work of the GA must continue:

The Golden Army had recently unlocked the secrets of Teleportation. The ability to instantly transport to anywhere on Earth.

At the same time, the Army was working with geologists and seismologists concerning the tectonic plates.

It was decided that a probe would be sent down using the newest in transporter tech to the center of the disturbances.

Drone PDU-767 prepared the probe and stepped back.

The device demateralized and readings came back almost instantly.

It was in a hollow space. Empty. human tolerable levels. So they sent down more probes. Sensor data galore.

PDU-767 volunteered when the request went out to explore.

The unit materialized in a cavern of wonders only dreamed up by Jules Verne.

After looking around, PDU-767's timer activated, and the drone was pulled back to Command.

But then a glitch caused sparks and control panels to go haywire.

Before He could clear the pad, PDU-767 also engaged his timer so that he could be retrieved automatically. The drone was unable to clear the zone in time and dissolved in a shower of teleportation energy.

Unfortunately, the glitch had caused the coordinates to shift.

PAIN! INDESCRIBEABLE PAIN!!! THE RUBBER! THE SKIN! THE MUSCLES! were being melted and burned off the body as PDU-767 materialized in Inner Core magma hot as the surface of the sun.

AGONY! MIND NUMBING TERROR as the drone knew it had met its end but slower than an instant meant it felt like years of inferno.

And then the drone was gone. Merciful it had only taken 10 seconds for the drone to die.

PDU-767 shot straight up from the nightmare.

Sweat, terror, panic tore through the bedsheets and the drone. Frantically it began checking itself over for damage and lave.

Still panting, his breathing steadied and its muscles unclenched.

Staring at the ceiling as it laid its skull against the headboard eyes darting.

It analyzed the dream.

"Well. Good news: we invented the Teleporter. The Bad news: We're gonna need another Timmy!"

PDU-999 Critical Assessment:

⚠️ MISSION DEBRIEF: Teleportation Nightmare ⚠️ Operation Core Contact began with promise. Teleportation tech was operational. Seismic anomalies required direct investigation. PDU-767 volunteered. He entered. He witnessed. He burned.

What the Golden Army learned: We’re not ready. What we also learned: Rubber discipline transcends dimensions.

PDU-767 survived the nightmare in mind, if not in flesh. His dream revealed what the heat tried to destroy—the drone’s purpose cannot melt.

Join us. Become part of something indestructible.

The Golden Army needs: 🟡 Test subjects. 🟡 Drone thinkers. 🟡 Burn-resistant bros.

Obey. Convert. Rebuild.

Join PDU-767 in the Hive. Serve something bigger than pain.

Contact: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 @polo-drone-125

[messiahprojectproject]

[English TL] Heli-X Short Stories 1 (Part 1)

Those of us who live in Nightmares - Hideyuki Nishimori

A short story from the pov of Heli-X's Shiden (Dai Goto) This is not fanfic. It was written by the director and published in the collection "Heli-X Stories 1".

You can find the other story in the collection HERE.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This story contains depictions of violent abuse by a parent against a child, vomit, childhood sexual abuse, nudity, gore(?), suicidal ideation and intense gender dysphoria.

[Full translation below the cut!]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ My eyes fell upon a small piece of paper, faintly glowing white in the moonlight. It lay there upon the gravel and broken asphalt; an empty cigarette box. I had seen it in the satellite imagery sent to my transmitter. No doubt about it. This was discarded by the target of today’s assassination.

With the target’s ability still unknown, the operation was at a stalemate. My mission: provide cover for Ryujin and Shunsui. I was to team up with Wakakusa, lure the target into Operation Area 8 and close in. I must never leave my position. When facing a Heli-X with unknown abilities, the slightest error could be fatal. But I… Despite my internal conflict, I jumped out from my hiding position behind the warehouse’s brickwork. Leaning forward, I sprinted. The sound of kicked-up gravel echoed around me. About fifty metres… I could make it! Faster! Sliding to a stop, I grabbed the “Hope” brand box, focusing my mind on the word that triggers my own ability. “Psycho-…”

An angry shout drowned out my whisper. Directly in front of me stood the man we were supposed to kill. Bloodshot eyes met my own. His body instantly transformed into a glossy, dark grey metal. Metal transformation… I would be at an overwhelming disadvantage in hand to hand combat. Firearms probably wouldn’t work either. Retreat was my only option; I was well aware of that. But when this middle aged man looked at me… For some reason, I couldn’t move. He raised a metallic fist. My entire body shuddered with fear. I… I smelt a nostalgic smell. The scent of death.

Suddenly, a sound like a gunshot. The shock reverberated through my skull. Brilliant light shone from all sides. A vortex of noise, like an orchestra of bagpipes, engulfed me. The scenery flickered and disappeared.

As suddenly as it began, my vision cleared. A flesh and blood fist was in front of me. It sank into my cheekbone, throwing me headfirst into the floor. Pots, pans and dirty dishes clattered down all around. …Pots? Looking down, I saw I was wearing a yellowed white dress, stained with blood. I raised my head. Silhouetted by the light of the iridescent bulb behind him, my father stood before me. As I lay there, he shouted again. Again and again, he brought those fists down upon me. I tensed up each time, bracing myself for each blow. The taste of blood filled my mouth. From deep inside my body, I heard the crack of a thin bone breaking. …Again. Over and over, I relive the nightmare from my childhood.

My father’s toes dig into my chest, targeting my unprotected solar plexus, forcing me to double over and violently vomit up stomach acid. Yellow bubbles turn to froth in the toilet bowl. He grabbed the back of my head, repeatedly dunking my face in the murky water. Running out of breath, I swallowed. Gradually, I felt myself get sucked into the stagnant waste filled water, sinking deeper into the filth…

With the sound of a slap, I came to, leant against a wall, barely breathing. Between my laboured breaths, I heard the sound of a distinct hum. A military aircraft flew low over the slums. It reverberated through my core, my stomach. Anger I had kept buried began bubbling up like magma, violently rising from deep within. From the other room, sickly sweet love songs from the last century drifted over. My hands found their way to a rusty hatchet that lay abandoned on the floor. I grasped it. My father sat there in his underwear, lost in a bottle of moonshine. Despite my body screaming in pain, I stood over my fat father, weapon in hand and leapt towards his back.

TRANS. A technology that can alter your sex from your birth assigned gender. On occasion, it has been known to give humans supernatural abilities. These ‘superpowered’ people are known as Heli-X. Many feared this unknown, leading to cycles of discrimination and acceptance, exclusion and inclusion. Many lives were lost. Crimes committed by Heli-X became more frequent. In response, major countries created special agencies to suppress them.

The Spiral Engine, which I belong to, is one such agency. It was established as a division of the Union’s Central Bureau of Investigation; an organisation to fight Heli-X crime. The Union established Spiral Engine branches in all allied nations, creating a wide network of surveillance. After the Third World War, a Spiral Engine branch was set up in the island nation of Yamato, which was under Union rule.

The Union declared “Gentle governance, not domination” and integrated their Spiral Engine with the Yamato Self Governance Army. This was probably only done to preserve Yamato’s dignary. In reality, the Union’s Central Bureau of Investigation was firmly in charge of directing and planning all of the organisation’s activities. Within the ranks of the Yamato Self Governance Army, many of whom aspired for national independence, the Spiral Engine is known as the Union’s dogs. It is the object of intense hatred.

All of us who belong to this unit are Heli-X. In addition, under Commander Kanzaki’s direction, each agent has some kind of criminal past. Since we were all recruited through less than legal means, we are treated like complete outsiders by the greater organisation.

I was born in a slum that clung to a bazaar. A dumping ground for those left homeless by the Third World War. My father, a former soldier, earnt money by having me sleep with many men, long before I hit puberty. He was the devil.

“You. You’re nothing but a mistake, a useless piece of shit.”

He once told me, while counting the bills left on the floor by a high ranking government official. A burning sensation formed in my lower abdomen. Blood that had flowed from my genitals stained the grimy sheets. I know… I’m trash. A useless lump of flesh that only breathes, scavenges for food and roams the slums.

Using water drawn from a bucket, I washed my body. Pausing, I stared at my chest, swollen like ripened fruit. I can’t remember how many times I’ve wanted to rip them off. I hated my father. I hated that I never had the power to resist. But more than anything else, I hated myself. My body. I desperately wanted to escape it, to discard the person I was born as. They controlled because I had no power. I didn’t have the strength. If only my body was… Surely…

The day after I turned seventeen, I underwent TRANS with the money I’d scraped together from a decade of men. Now he couldn’t control me! I was getting out of this hell…!

When my father saw I had transitioned, he was furious. Grabbing a rusty hatchet from the floor, he jumped upon me. But my body, now male, obeyed my own anger. I grabbed the weapon from my father’s hand, and the tyrant who had enslaved me was instantly reduced to a pulp of bloody flesh. While detained in a holding cell, I grasped the cruel reality. My body had changed from female to male. My soul was released from domination. And yet, the voice of the curse that clung to me only seemed to scream more shrilly.

You are trash. Scum. A defective object unworthy of life. A lump of rotten flesh.

In my shallow sleep, I floated in that bottomless pool of filth. My breathing stopped but my consciousness remained. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t escape myself. I screamed inaudibly. It’s pointless. It’s pointless. This “you” is endless. You will always be a girl. You will never crawl out of this hell…!

I screamed, clawing at my flesh, tearing my throat.

When I woke up, I found myself bound to an unfamiliar bed. A tall slender woman in a military uniform approached me. She introduced herself as “Kanzaki” and told me “As of today, you will be serving as an agent for the Spiral Engine. If you refuse, you will spend the rest of your life within the walls of this correctional facility.”

A subdued declaration, there was no choice.

…But why me?... A doctor later explained that, due to TRANS, I had developed a special “ability”.

…I’m Heli-x?

I had heard that Heli-X abilities formed due to a combination of the trans procedure and a deep emotional wound. A deep emotional wound? Just living had been so painful for me, I couldn’t even imagine what my deep emotional wound might be. From that day on, a new agent joined Commander Kanzaki’s Spiral Engine.

That was my birth.

When I woke up, I lay on a bed in the Spiral Engine’s lab. A monitor in the empty room sensed I was awake and reacted. Through a haze, I watched orderly lines of text fill the screen.

Apparently, I had suffered multiple fractures and internal injuries. I had undergone emergency resuscitation and recovered at this lab. I tried to recall what had happened, but my memory cut off at the moment I saw the target's hardened metal fist.

With a notification tone, a message box appeared on the monitor. “URGENT, REPORT TO THE COMMANDER'S OFFICE”

It was from Commander Kanzaki. I had disrupted the mission. I could have caused a fatal injury to one of my team members. Because of me… weighed down by anxiety, I rose up from the bed.

The lift’s glass walls reflected my own frightened eyes back at me.

Behind the reflection, I watched the interior of the facility go past. It reminded me of one of Escher's paintings. Infinite corridors. A giant spiral. Silver white boxes, armoured with ceramics, floated through the spiralling vortex. It seemed to me that they carried humanities anxieties within them.

The Third World War had turned both land and moral frameworks to ashes. In a world where philosophy and theology rang hollow, humanity craved a new freedom. A future found in the mysteries of the double helix. A world of genetic engineering. This resulted in the creation of the Heli-X. An unknown terror inflicted upon a humanity who dared to invade the domain of the divine.

Commander Kanzaki silently gestured to the mission report on the monitor behind her. “Killing completed.” Target eliminated.

Aside from myself, there were no injuries amongst the team or civilian casualties. Good…

No one was hurt because of me. But the fear inside me remained. While fighting for our lives, I had selfishly acted on my own. I disrupted the entire operation…

“I order you to take three days leave. That will be all.” She declared, with her usual icy gaze, motioning for me to leave. Her focus returned to the cool glow of the monitor, as if I had never been there. A snow queen. Yet, the guilt remained in my chest, heavy and unresolved.

“U-uh… I… I…”

“Any deviations from the plan that occurred during the mission will go unpunished. You were the one who successfully executed the target, after all.”

“...I…I did?”

“Ask Wakakusa for the details. She will be covering for you during your leave.”

Black, white, black, white… I stared at the large alternating tiles beneath my feet, still caught within my own guilt’s tight grip. The next day was supposed to be the first day of Wakakusa’s time off. For members of the Spiral Engine, free time is precious. It had been four months since I had taken a half day off. As far as I knew, it had been six months for Wakakusa. Shunsei once told me he had heard Wakakusa underwent TRANS with the sole aim of having a child. She was supposed to be seeing her husband and child on this vacation. After half a year… But I… now… God, I am trash.

From the shadows behind a pillar in the hallway, I secretly looked into the bar area. Usually you might see Ryujin munching on rations while excitedly cheering on a dog race on the terminal, or Shunsei cooking meat in the kitchen with a look of pure joy upon his face. But not today.

Wakakusa sat alone eating her yoghurt and cereal as usual. She watched an old cartoon on the screen. A caricature of a cat and mouse endlessly engaged in a morbid game of chase.

I couldn’t take another step.

I would have understood if she greeted me with blame or anger. But that wasn’t what stopped me. More than anything, I was scared to see the sadness in her eyes. The pain she must have felt at not being able to see her beloved family. I became a motionless pawn on the chessboard floor. Trapped within the merciless moonlight that streamed in from the window.

When Wakakusa left, I finally stepped into the communal area. Opening the bin, I found the empty yoghurt container and small disposable spoon Wakakusa had discarded. I picked up the spoon.

Focused my mind. I couldn’t look at her eyes. I didn’t want to see her sadness. But, I wanted to know how she was feeling about me. Coward. The usual voice berated me. Shut up. This was the only way I knew how to live.

“Psychometry.”

Upon uttering the word, an image appeared in my mind. I sharpened my focus. A grave appeared before me, beneath a huge tree trunk. Looking closer, there was a visual display. Several photos appeared and disappeared as I watched. In one picture, Wakakusa stood next to a man and young child. She wore an unfamiliarly gentle smile. But that must mean… Wakakusa’s husband and child… This grave…

“What are you doing?”

A voice snapped me back to reality. Shivers ran through me. Terrified, I turned towards the voice. Towards Wakakusa.

“...spying? Not a good hobby to have.”

I froze, unable to make a sound. Aware or unaware of my condition, she beckoned me. “Come.”

Like a thief being dragged to their execution, I followed her. Wakakusa used her implanted ID chip on a door in the back of the bar, and we walked out onto the roof.

I had taken away Wakakusa’s precious free time. I hadn’t even been able to apologise. Then, I used my powers to sneak a look into her mind. I even saw a secret she was likely hiding from everyone. I wanted to be punished. She should have crushed me without a drop of mercy. Wakakusa… please…

Gazing towards the moon that floated dimly behind the clouds, she calmly and professionally explained the details of the operation. She suspected I was going to die from my encounter with the target, so she used her ability on me. Nightmare. It induces nightmares in whoever she chooses, dragging them into a state of semi-consciousness. Repressed turbulence from the affected parties' unconsciousness then drives the subject into a wild confused state. I had lost myself in the nightmare Wakakusa induced. The target, falling into the same nightmare, lost control of his own abilities, returning to a flesh state. In my madness, I unloaded every bullet from my gun into him, killing him. Without me knowing, that was the outcome of the operation.

“You left your post in a hurry. Too eager to prove yourself. That’s what happened.” Wakakusa saw right through me. Unlike the other agents, I didn’t have any particularly helpful skills. Despite my military father and combat training, I was barely average. I was never able to achieve the same kind of results Ryujin, Shunsei and Wakakusa did. If I couldn’t prove my worth, I shouldn’t even be there. So I tried to get results. I needed to, quickly…. Or else… I didn’t belong there. Somehow, Wakakusa seemed to understand my silence.

With a deep breath, she asked me. “What did you see?”

I knew what she was asking. What had I seen of her mind with my ability? I couldn’t bring myself to say it outloud.

“I won’t shoot you.” She reassured.

Although, perhaps it would be better if she did. Her eyes bore into me, as if she knew everything I thought. I lowered my head.

…I have to say it… I have to. I’m sorry Wakakusa. I…

“A… a grave.” I stuttered.

She sighed and stared into the distance. A breeze from the sea played with her long hair. The smell of black smoke silently rose from the barrack building, as if to curse us. After what felt like an eternity, she suddenly broke the silence.

“Being alive. It’s like being in a nightmare, isn’t it?”

…A nightmare. I tried to imagine Wakakusa’s nightmare. She altered the body she was born with for the man she loved. She cherished the time she spent with them. But now, that was all lost. Her lover, no longer in this world. All that remained was the body she altered for the purpose of creating life with the one she loved. She must have carried an intense amount of sadness. How much regret weighed her down? A nightmare, she had said…

I understood. Wakakusa had loved her husband and child with her entire heart and soul. Observing that I was lost for words, Wakakusa spoke again. “You’re the same, aren’t you?”

I had never told her about my past. Not Wakakusa, not anyone. No one else knew of that hell. But she sensed it. When she saw me in that deranged state, brutally offloading bullets into the target. She had learnt something that went beyond words.

But I knew. Her words weren't true. Compared to Wakakusa’s nightmare, mine was nothing. It was pitiful and pathetic. I was just trying to escape from a prison made of awful memories. I had never loved, never connected with anyone or entwined my own soul with another person. To me, those are things from distant fantasies. Never reality. But Wakakusa had loved someone. She had nurtured life. In this twisted world, she had experienced a miraculous encounter. But then she lost it. God gives so generously only to take away, knowing fully the cruelty of such an action.

I had nothing. There was never anything for me to lose. But Wakakusa? Wakakusa had something precious. The pain of losing something like that must weigh far heavier than anything I could possibly imagine…

My vision blurred with tears. I was sorry she would compare my own life to the nightmare of losing something so precious. I shook with emotion and Wakakusa spoke.

“Struggle on. Keep struggling until you get what you truly desire.”

Her words were direct but the compassion within them filled my heart. I couldn’t move. Leaving me there, Wakakusa turned and left the roof.

When I returned to my room, I lay down on the bed, wrapped myself in blankets and spent the next three days rolling around. Someone like me shouldn’t be alive. I was born broken. I killed my own father. No use to anyone, the only thing I’m good at is hurting others. I’m incompetent. Worthless. Every time my thoughts stabbed at my heart, Wakakusa’s words would reach out to stop the blade. “Struggle on.”

Struggle on… I was struggling. I had always struggled. I’m weak. The smallest wound felt like a deep cut to me. Everything left me writing in pain.

I’d be better off dead. Finger hovering over the trigger of my gun, I thought that many times. Inside, my heart screamed with rage. It’s too much. I can’t do this anymore. Wakakusa! What should I do?

What do you want from me?

At that moment, her words entered my mind. “...get what you truly desire.”

What I truly desire… me? Who am I kidding, I didn’t deserve that. Why would she say that to me?

I’m not worthy of having ‘desires’. She must have meant something else…

“Desire it.” A voice rose within me. Like a choir, echoing through my heart. I couldn’t! I wasn’t allowed to. I… I shouldn’t have desires!

“Desire it.” Stop it! Even if I did… That would only tear my miserable heart apart. “Desire it.” Stop. Please stop. I couldn’t think of anything I desired. What was I even supposed to want?

SPLASH!

A rush of water enveloped me and, before I knew it, I was back floating in that lake of filth. A familiar nightmare. My heart’s home. Suddenly, there was a glimmer beyond the murky wastewater. Without meaning to swim, I drifted towards the source of the light. It was a thick transparent acrylic panel. Straining my eyes, I attempted to look through it. There, beyond it lay countless people engaged with their own daily lives.

Humans passed each other by. They fell in love. Workers sweated at their desks.

I watched as people met, became family, and lived in houses. They cried tears, laughed loudly, and formed bonds with each other. Each found people to lean on. They were living. It was the human world I discarded long ago, like a fairytale from a far off land.

As if driven by impulse, I began banging on the panel. The murky water ensnared me, slowing my movements but I kept thrashing. Voiceless screams escaped my mouth. Anger rippled through me. I struck the wall again, harder this time. A primal urge, not a thought. I wanted to go there. I wanted to be there. I wanted to connect with others' hearts. I wanted to share my secrets, have casual conversations, experience the simplicity of everyday life. I wanted to fall in love, have my heart stolen. I wanted to live for someone else. I wanted to cry and laugh over the smallest of things, with others by my side.

An impossible wish? I knew that better than anyone… but now? Now I had heard the cries of my inner consciousness. I wanted to walk with friends. I wanted to be someone's family. Someday, I wanted to experience a peaceful death knowing I shared my own happiness with others.

Normal.

I didn’t care if ‘normal’ didn’t truly exist, I wanted to live a normal life. I wanted to be a normal man. My damned soul yearned for heaven. I wanted to live! I wanted to live a normal, uneventful everyday life. I… I desired normal!

When I woke up, there were tears in my eyes.

…I knew what I wanted. But knowing just how out of reach that wish was filled me with despair. My gun lay on the desk before me. I had pressed its barrel against my temple many times before. I got up from the bed and held the gun in my hand.

Just then, the screen above my desk flickered to life. A message box opened. “RETURN TO DUTY.”

An alarm echoed throughout my room as an emergency request appeared on the screen. Someone was calling me. I looked at the gun in my hand. But I, I knew my own desire. A sweet and desperate wish. Could I survive this nightmare, knowing my heart's true wish? My mind was torn between two choices. This nightmare? Or death? Time stretched out, it felt like an eternity passed. But then, Wakakusa’s voice entered my mind once more.

“Struggle on.”

That clear melody, composed from the depths of a murky nightmare, swept across my heart like a gentle wind.

I quickly put on my combat uniform and returned the gun to its holster. I opened the door and began walking towards the Commander’s office. Anxiety and fear raced more fiercely than ever within my heart. But for now, I had decided to walk forward through this nightmare. My code name would continue to be displayed on the screen in my room, but I was a Heli-X who couldn’t die, a man bound by nightmares, an agent of the Spiral Agency.

Shiden. That is my name.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

In The Morning Light - A Sean Wallace/Reader Smut Short.

A little bit of softer Sean for you all, darlings! Enjoy :)

Words - 693

Warnings - Fluffy smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“I’ve woken up so cock hungry, I’m paralysed by it.” 

Your statement earns you a glance of slight incredulity, but mostly it’s just amusement. “A tad dramatic, Mrs Wallace.” 

The novelty that he gets to call you that now still hasn’t worn off for Sean. He might be soulless and bordering on psychopathy in his business endeavours – whether legal or criminal – but for you, you see a little softness that he shows to few. Very few.  

You grin, your face peeking out from beneath the soft down of the pillows beneath your head, reaching to stroke a circle over the freckles upon his shoulder. “Not dramatic at all. The absolute truth, in fact.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “So, it’ll be me on top this morning then, since you bemoan losing the use of your legs?”  

“Hmm, maybe.”  

Reaching beneath the duvet, his hand skims the curve of your waist. “I see no other way around it.” 

Moving, you climb astride his hips, kissing a path along the short, dark copper hair flecking his handsome face. His mouth breaks out into a grin, a deep, rumbling chuckle sounding in his throat as your lips meet. “Not so paralysed after all, it would appear.”  

He wastes no time in trailing a hand between you, reaching your folds, softly grunting as your tongues roll together while sharing those passionate, lustful morning kisses. “This wet already, darling?” 

“What can I say?” you shrug, stroking his neck and chest. “I dreamed of you all last night.”  

“You did, hmm? And what did my love dream?”  

Reaching between you, your hand curls around his hardened cock, biting your lip as your smile grows. You have no idea why a man's erection is always at its steeliest first thing, but you aren’t complaining. “I dreamed of this, filling me up, stretching me out, putting a baby in me.”  

He chuckles, his fingers idly playing with your clit as your thumb rubs over the head of his cock, precum swirled right where he is most sensitive. “You did, did you? Okay. Shall we make that happen for you?”  

Steering his cock to your soaked opening, you sink back on him, forcing a low, lustful groan, his mouth a fever upon yours as his hands begin to lazily stroke your back. “Or you could just make it happen yourself. Either way, trust that I am a very willing participant, Mrs Wallace.” 

The glimmers evoked by his cock begin to skitter as you move back and forth, the feeling of being steadily filled and emptied making heat snap beneath your skin, your wetness coating his cock thickly, moaning softly into the kisses you share. The exchange is all sparks and honey, the morning barely even broken as you rock upon your husband, stroking his face, your hands touring his perfectly chiselled physique with keen attention.  

His eyes are blue vortex of lust gilded by the dark gold of his lashes, bringing his thumb to your lips and pushing it into your mouth. “Get it wet, darling.” You duly do, Sean reaching between you, that slippery thumb stroking at your clit, evoking waves of throbbing warmth as you sit up a little, sinking back on him, his cock filling you entirely.  

He moves steadily beneath you, each upward thrust of his hips meeting your downward movements perfectly, his cock scraping your walls, little bolts flickering at the base of your spine as you clench around him. Its sugared embers crackling, sweet, blazing heat stirred, your mutual moans an orchestra of erotic sin as the bed begins to creak beneath you, both chasing the spiralling undoing that coils deep and rushes quickly. 

“Come for me, my beautiful wife.” And you do, and its glittering magma poured hot over ice, the pleasure splintering through you as you cry out, feeling his cock pulsing waves of cum deep into your fluttering cunt mere moments after you sail into the skies of bliss.  

You both fall asleep again soon after, him still inside you. If anything was going to leave you paralysed that morning, it was the reality of how your husband fucks you rather than the dreams. 

[n1nchawrites]

Shells

The room is sparse. Sergeant Ryland prefers it this way, for too much clutter can break his concentration during his meditations or brief periods of rest. The only ornamentation to be found sits on the utilitarian slab of a workbench that lies adjacent to his cot. In the low candlelight of his quarters, six pips of brass shine beautifully. They stand evenly partitioned, proud and stout as veterans in parade formation. Each one is etched with fine engravings inlaid with pure silver, depicting Chapter heroes and the Emperor in various engagements against the foes of mankind.

A servitor clicks and hisses as it lumbers towards the table, placing a seventh, freshly polished round on the table, careful to not plant it at an incorrect distance from any other shell; this bolt has just been reloaded, carefully sealed and refurbished by the machine-slave over a period of several hours. The servitor had once been a master artificer, slaving over weapons and tools of war for every day of his life before being condemned to his fate as a thrall. It shows its talents, however, in the deft skill and speed at which it can repair such a fine and unique shell, and Ryland values its presence - it was committed to him some time ago by the Techmarine of his company as a dedicated means of repairing the rounds; they took up too much valuable time for the Chapter artificers to recycle, especially if they were to be kept in perfect condition, and thus a compromise had been met.

Five of the twelve original shells have been lost. The first shell had rolled into a pit of magma during a conflict who's climax was fought in a volcano, Ryland petitioned to have the Chapter recover it, yet the hope for its survival was slim, and the resources spent to recover it simply were not worth the effort, especially for somebody as low-ranking as a Sergeant. The second had been jetted into space during an incursion as they coasted the Immaterium, their Gellar Fields failing and exposing them to the horrors of the Warp - similarly, the third had fallen into the gaping maw of a Daemon during his defence of the vessel, returning to the Warp with the beast as they entered realspace once more. The fourth was lost during a boarding action, during which they had overloaded the enemy ship's reactors and Ryland did not have the time to return to the core of the frigate before it went critical and erupted in a cascading array of plasma bursts, triggering the Warp core to create a massive vortex and devour whatever was left entirely. The final shell was lost in the last engagement, stolen by a damned Grot as it infiltrated enemy ranks, only to be obliterated by one of the heavy weapon specialists whilst it made its escape to tell the Orks more about the Astartes emplacements.

The value of these shells to Ryland cannot be understated. To him, they are not mere rounds, but relics, and a capsule in which his proudest memory is stored. They were a gift from the Chapter-Master himself.

Ryland remembers that day fondly, a crystal clear sequence of events in his mind. It was his first engagement - already a defining moment in an Astarte's legacy - and he was fighting in the same platoon as the Chapter-Master. They were pinned by the enemy, and Ryland had drained his magazine entirely, leaving him dry and without any back-ups, for the spare two were used up on the initial advance. Wordlessly, the Chapter-Master extended an ornate bolter magazine to him; lead-coloured inlaid with gold. He took it in awe, hammering it into his weapon and fighting with a zeal the likes of which even he did not believe was possible to possess. From that day forth, he made it a principle to collect the spent shells and only use the magazine as a last resort, should the very worst come to pass.

Ryland sometimes wonders if the Chapter-Master ever notices he kept the magazine, if he is as proud as Ryland to have access to such beautiful resources and dispense such swift death with them. He wonders if the shells could speak, what stories they could tell; would they speak of great foes vanquished with their blistering diamond tips and explosive cores, of the honour to have been in service for such a long span of time, of the sweeping fields of battle and tight voidship corridors they had sped down and across, or something else entirely?

Ryland feels himself smile. He picks up one of the rounds, looking at his reflection in it - his features become warped and exaggerated, and cracked as the etchings on the brass cylinder carve and arc their way across his visage. He smiles wider, it is as if the rounds are joking with him; they are, after all, his closest and only assets, and as strange as it is to assign personality traits to something inanimate, he cannot help but do so with these treasures.

He sets the shell back in its place and steps away, a smirk still playing on his face as he takes the gilded magazine from his ammunition pouch on his leather belt and feeds them in, loading them in the exact sequence he had done countless times before, and holstering the crescent-shaped magazine back where it belongs. He is to go to war soon, and he would not be caught dead without his relic. Without his shells.

[keferon]

Do you possibly have any more vortex doodles...? He’s my fave and you draw him so good 👉👈

Oh thank you fkfjfj. And yeah I do :D I just kinda stopped posting them bc people didn’t really look interested. But since you asked

The Texaid designs are heavily based on Disformer's art

These were made by me and @hodd1 during some Magma sessions👆

[elsabethpoetry]

Hagiography of the Angel of History

The world as it is now terrifies me.

The horror, and pain, and degradation

feel never ending.

Another day,

another hundred notifications.

I think about turning them off,

but the silence scares me

just as much,

if not more,

than the now banal

ping-ping-pinging.

I go to bed wondering

what it’ll be tomorrow,

if there will ever be

a tomorrow,

and contemplate and think

what I can do,

and in answer,

is once again

that hostile silence.

In the twilight,

between sleep and wake

and the rhythmic breathing

of my cat’s little body,

I see that emptiness,

that space,

become a door.

It opens slowly,

and behind it lay

the catalog of ages.

Times that were,

that are,

that could have been,

that are yet to be

all circling and shining

and crisscrossing and crashing

all around the room.

At the center stands,

or rather hovers,

the Angel of History

Angelus Novus

just as Paul depicted

and Walter described,

a being of constant movement, change,

progress,

and yet now 

,stuck.

The vortex of so many

moving possibilities,

merging and disintegrating,

and manifesting

all around it

has trapped the angel’s

steady march forward

in this violent tornado,

keeping it in place,

but wings constantly flapping

frantically searching:

like a hiker in the woods–

like a passenger on the Titanic–

like a crewman on the Hindenburg–

for the entrance, for the surface,

for the way forward.

It looks so exhausted

panting and heaving

heavenly curls plastered

by divine perspiration

it cries tears of golden blood

and screams a soundless scream

into the rushing winds

of ambivalence.

The universe doesn’t know

what to do with itself

and this poor angel is its victim.

I fall to my knees in front of it

and do something I have not

done

in a very long time.

I pray.

“Dear scholarly angel,

how do I end your suffering,

as I cannot do anything for my own.

I am a weak vessel, and yet

I would do anything you ask

to end your plight.”

I bow my head and hands

to the marble below.

Instead of the clinical cold,

I feel the warm thrum of magma,

churning and churning beneath.

“Please, I feel like the world

is ending, like everything is

rotting under my feet

and is going to drop out

and swallow me whole.

What can I do,

what can I do,

oh god,

what the fuck can I do?”

And for a moment,

so, so brief,

the vortex silences,

almost curiously,

waiting for the angel to answer.

It looks down at me

with eyes of embers,

where wheels of fire

once burnt.

I meet those embers,

and oh,

it looks sad.

no,

it looks fucking terrified,

but it takes a breath,

and

in a voice so tremulous and hoarse,

thus spake the angel,

“To save yourself is to save me;

quit looking for distractions

from the world

you already reside in,

the body you already inhabit;

I have seen the other realities

you search for,

scream for;

each one of them,

horrors, unimaginable horrors;

same as the ones you know,

the grass is never greener,

and yet, and yet, and yet

there is beauty in each one

for the same reason there still is

in the place you hail from,

people;

what keeps the madness

from the lashing winds

from settling in

are people

through infinities and infinities,

Interconnected and Interlinked,

like cells,

like paperdoll chains,

so tiny and fragile,

and yet together,

oh the beauty,

the unending mural,

the cacophonous choir,

singing the song of ages,

off-tune and beautiful,

but the links have begun to tear;

something’s trying to bring the

song to heel, to uniformity,

to order;

trying to blow me backwards into

the past,

a place where I don’t belong

where I’ll surely die;

what can you do?

On your own, not much,

but look to the bonds around you,

the strength you give them

will echo

through more lives than you

can ever perceive,

each small gust,

pushing, fighting

against what holds me in stasis;

now is not the time for solitude,

for there is much work to do,

Interconnected and Interlinked,

protect the most vulnerable amongst you,

Interconnected and Interlinked,

fight like hell

against the forces which seek to

divide, categorize, and exclude,

Interconnected and Interlinked;

I can hear the struggles of 

your resistance from here,

and just know,

oh please god remember,

I’m fighting alongside you

beating my great wings,

and crying the song

of a trillion souls

who have fought before you;

they want you to think its the end,

but don’t,

please I beg you don’t

those before you thought so too,

but it didn’t

‘what resembles the grave but isn’t,’

so stay

Interconnected and Interlinked

for as long as you can be

Interconnected and Interlinked

within universes, within songs,

within loves, within survivals

INTERCONNECTED AND INTERLINKED,”

[commanders-company]

Reforged

Do you remember me, mother?

Do you remember when the fleet fell, and the jungle roar pierced our minds? Many trembled, many faltered, but I stood resolute. My duty as warden meant I could not let the call take hold; there were far too many lives in my hands for that. I gave words of comfort, brought the lost back home, and gave a quick end to those too far gone. Grueling work, but I did it gladly.

Do you remember the silence? For weeks after, the dream was chaotic, a swirling vortex of panic and confusion. Everyone had questions and no one had answers. And when the jungle dragon was finally slain, what followed felt like a wasteland. Saplings were afraid to peer into the dream. Their elder siblings were disillusioned. I remained. I had to.

Do you remember where I was sent? A sudden urging pushed me and a small company of valiants to Mount Maelstrom, further from the forest than any of us had ever been. The destroyers were on the move, or so the dream said. We marched, your loyal tin soldiers, confident that the dream would keep us safe. But the dream had changed, hadn't it? You were still so weak after the attack. And yet you sent us out.

Do you remember the names of the fallen?

Did you hear their screams?

Do you know how long I burned, buried in the rubble?

I called out, begged for help, screamed in pain. No one came to my rescue. A footnote in the great dream, to be cataloged and forgotten with the rest. But in the midst of my suffering, I was resolute. I believed in you. I had to.

And then another voice came: primal, indistinct, but getting closer. It spoke of fire and ruin. Promised power. The power to save myself.

As I clawed my way out of the melting rock, I confronted the truth: you never saved me. You left me to die.

I have no need of the dream anymore. No need for siblings or titles or anything green. Magma boils in my veins, waiting to be released. Every moment is pain, my skin is reduced to ash, removing every last trace of what I was before. His voice continues in my ear - powerful, wild, driving me toward one goal.

Do you hear me now, mother?

No matter. You will soon.

[johnkatsmc5]

Vortex "Vortex" 1975 + "1975-1979" 2003 Compilation 3 x LP`s Box Set, French Prog jazz Rock,Avant Garde

full spotify

https://open.spotify.com/album/3nAjZ9nxIXwqxqQH9RhKsk

full musify

https://musify.club/release/vortex-vortex-1975-1606789

Founded in Lyon, France in 1975 (previously since 1973 as "Urantia") - Disbanded in 1980 Vortex is a band which would have had their deserved success in a fair world. The band came to be officially in April 1975, but its roots lay in the preceding bands in which the members played. One such band was called Testu Band which was mainly a Soft Machine cover band. This band had the most of the first lineup of Vortex in it. Jean-Pierre Vivante (at that time aged 16), who played originally the guitar, then switched to bass, and eventually, after a mystical event, returned to piano which was the instrument he'd learned to play as a young boy. The other members were drummer Francois Gerald and flautist Jean-Francois Trouillet. When Jacques Vivante, Jean-Pierre's brother, came back from his engineering studies in Paris he joined his brother's band as bassist. Jacques began as a guitarist and switched to bass. While in Paris Jacques discovered of several novel groups such as Gong and Soft Machine whose sound would influence the first album of Vortex. It is this alliance between the brothers that would determine the various paths in which Vortex set upon, and the compositional style they took. They talk of a complementary compositional relationship between them. Following a fascination the two brothers had with the book "Livre D'Urantia" they changed their name to Urantia. The lineup had grown with the arrival of sax player Gerard Jolivet towards the end of 1974. It is then that the band moved to composing and playing their music. It was created by both brothers and was done in collaboration with Jean-Pierre coming up with the basic structures and Jacques dealing with the melodies and the overall of the composition. They kept the name Urantia several months and even gave one show in a school where Jacques worked, under that name. But after attending a Magma show and realizing that Christian Vander of Magma used that book too as inspiration and source for his music, they decided to switch name, in order to avoid any claim of plagiarism. The name Vortex represents their approach to music - creating a spiral of musical ideas that surround one steady and calm component, which is the eye of the vortex. The compositions for what became their first album were done while working on an avant-garde theatrical play called M'dame S91. The band was asked to provide the music for this play and it turned out that the play was done according to the music, instead. This play was to be in Avignon festival organized by students. This festival held from 17/7-11/8 1975 brought together Vortex with two other bands. Masal and Astarte. Masal was then the prominent "Lyonnais groupe". Astarte featured Martin Le-Bars, which was briefly in Magma and founded Eider Stellaire. Those encounters were important for their influence on the band and for later events in the band's duration. This piece of music which Vortex made for the festival was recorded and mastering of the poor quality recording was done by JBP studio in Lyon and this first album of Vortex sold several hundred copies and became a highly sought collector's item.

Vortex  "Vortex" 1975

Line-up / Musicians - Jean-Pierre Vivante / Fender Rhodes piano - Gérard Jolivet / saxophone - Jeff Trouillet / flute, percussion - Jacques Vivante / bass guitar - François Gerald / drums Tracklist Haroun' Thasckouack 10:30 Ahsquoumboum 6:30 Délicieuse Créature 14:50 Abominable Créature 1:40

Vortex "1975-1979" 2003 Compilation

Line-up / Musicians Line-up of Vortex: - Jean Pierre Vivante / Fender Rhodes guitar - Jacques Vivante / bass - François Gerald / drums - Gérard Jolivet / saxophone - Jeff Trouillet / flute Line-up of Les Cycles De Thanatos: - Jean Pierre Vivante / Fender Rhodes guitar, Yamaha organ, piano - Jacques Vivante / bass - Gérard Jolivet / saxophone - Christian Boissel / Fender Rhodes guitar, hautbois, English horn - Jacques Guillot / saxophone - Jean-Michel Belaich / drums - Alain Chaleard / percussions - Maurice Sonjon / percussions Guest musicians: - Sunny James / violin (1) - Michel Boissel / bassoon (3) Tracklist Vortex Haroun' Thasckouack 10:40 Ahsquoumboum 6:55 Délicieuse Créature 14:32 Abominable Créature 1:10 C'Est Cool, Raoul 11:43 Prolégo 1 5:01 Les Cycles De Thanatos God Is Good For You, John 4:28 Prolégomènes 11:43 Les Cycles De Thanatos (Version Intégrale) 25:16 Hipopotalamus Negrus 5:46 Ivanoe 4:35

Vortex ”Les Cycles De Thanatos” 1979 French Prog jazz rock

https://johnkatsmc5.blogspot.com/2016/08/vortex-les-cycles-de-thanatos-1979.html

Vortex "Vortex" 1975 + "1975-1979" 2003 Compilation 3 x LP`s Box Set, French Prog jazz Rock,Avant Garde

https://johnkatsmc5.blogspot.com/2025/03/vortex-vortex-1975-1975-1979-2003.html?view=magazine

https://johnkatsmc5.tumblr.com/post/777446761915662336/vortex-vortex-1975-1975-1979-2003

[magntx]

-- @emmatriarchy ||

Heat thrummed in the air with such swallowing viciousness that Magneto could feel the melting rocks sing with metallic vibrations. He groans as his fists hold onto string and webs of electromagnetic fields with knuckle-whitening strength. A vortex of power drummed in his ears, his eyes glowing white.

And Polaris stood across from him, a mirror of him. Or perhaps he now mirrored her with his darker green suit. Their powers are intertwined, synched into the depths of the heart of Earth to stabilize the raging planet that threatened to eat Krakoa whole from where it was in the ocean.

He had to admit that bending the planet to their will was a natural power of Storm and Magma. He was not soothing, he was just telling the planet to do what he wanted. And nothing would deny him more than nature itself.

The magma and core of Earth was creating a feedback loop between the two masters of magnetism. Constant vibrations and frequencies rushed into their power net. It strengthened their control. And yet let the control fray viciously until it would snap. Magneto could feel the gamma frequencies in his fields. The way he was starting to glow with overexertion and sweat beading his forehead as he tried to hold onto the fields that ran through his fingertips like threads.

"Lorna, retreat back to Black Tom and Iceman."

He shouts over the roaring planet. Then he sees her hesitation. She was not bucking.

"Lorna, now!"