#cacophonous harmony

[mammomlette]

"𝙸 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗

𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸'𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛."

-'𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚗' 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚔𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚑

Synopsis: Satan’s world used to be burnt by hatred, but recently he can’t seem to stop the warmth he feels when around the human exchange student.

Genre: Fluff?? None? (Romantic)

Warnings: One of the last paragraphs is a littleeee bit suggestive, not proofread

Notes: Satan x MC, I made this at midnight as I do most things so I blame low quality stuff in that🧍‍♀️also I haven’t wrote in ages ok so give me mercy, MC is referred to with they/them pronouns!! ‘Her’ is used in the title because that’s the song lyrics, but MC is gender neutral :)

Word count: 754

For a long time, all Satan saw was the flames burning through the Devildom. Looking out of the civilised areas and into the land past the denizens and watching as the natural flames of the Devildom overtook trees and small animals, growing higher and higher and killing more and more.

Or even if he looked within the walls of the city and into the halls of RAD, even within the perimeter of his own home, there was the omnipresent chaos that comes with a demons nature. Fires, all around, some extinguished and some fed, but fires none the less.

There were the screams. The damned souls or the unfortunate lower demons stupid enough to venture out of the safety of the more civilised Devildom. The shrieks of pain and agony, cries for their long gone family and careless friends to try and save themselves from their own self-inflicted wounds and shenanigans.

All of it was the norm to Satan. He was a demon, and unlike his housemates, he wasn’t turned into one. He was made as one. It was in his very blood since the moment of his very creation to feed on the cacophonous screams of terror and to admire the bright flickering lights in the distance, to bask in its attack and glory.

The burning hurt, but it was part of a demons nature to touch fire.

Never did he long to seek out the daylight his brothers described from their celestial days nor did he yearn for peace and tranquility that the celestial realm presents.

So why now was it that he spent so long yearning for a human?

Horrible choirs of unwilling participants being replaced by the sweet harmonies of their laughter, the fires causing chaos in the distance being replaced by the flush on your cheeks when he gets to close or says something in that’s hushed manner, disrupting his heart instead of those of the innocent.

Never had he felt so in tune with his brothers. He has always been different to them, knowing they have different origins, knowing they have different powers, knowing they have different thoughts and feelings- However now, he finally understood them. The way they, among other demons, would turn their heads as you walk past and the way people would whisper about how sweet you seemed (In what way, he wondered)

He, liked the rest of the crowd, followed you around helplessly after you slowly made your way into his heart and combined your souls into a beautiful pact mark on your skin.

The way you would stop and look at him, for even a second, when with someone else while they were talking. The way you would turn to him and stifle a laugh whenever someone was making too much of a fool of themselves at an important meeting or during a lesson, biting your lip or hiding your face while your shoulders shook. The way you would always ask what he wanted whenever you were going up to buy something, even though you both knew he had more money than you and wouldn’t mind queueing on his own if he wanted something so badly.

The little things showing you cared.

The way you would spray yourself in human body sprays to create such an artificially sweet smell or the way you licked around your lips after chugging a drink or shoving too much food down your mouth was utterly tantalising. Did you even know?

Did you know how he wanted to eat you up, give in to his demonic nature and devour you in so many ways, like a cannibal? Know how badly he wanted to taste your food on your tongue and smell your body spray from his head planted right in your neck?

Did you even know how badly he wanted to put you on a pedestal, high above everyone else for the three worlds to see, and did you know how much that thought fought with his urge to keep you to himself like a collectable, delicate and gorgeous and all his?

His yearning was indescribable, but he would never stop pining after you even if he could. Because the way you look back at him and offer your hand with the slightest shake in your smile and the smallest blush on your cheeks gives him the slightest flicker of hope that you might just yearn for for him like he yearns for you. And a little flicker is always capable enough to turn into a flame.

[foggysilverfeathers]

Jimmy does it underground.

It’s not illegal, exactly, and They can’t watch him (that’s the whole point, after all) but it doesn’t feel right to do it out in the open air, among cheerful, lighthearted allies whose biggest worries this episode are their outfits and what fun little gimmick will be today. His hand trembles as he lights the first candle.

Seven candles in total — the first four a waxy yellow, two a starchy white and the last jet black, dyed with fresh ink from a squid he’d killed early that morning. The sixth one is short, more of a candle than a stub, but it counts. It matters.

Then, trembling, he dips his hand in the pot he’s carried all the way down here and draws the Symbol.

Enderman blood — difficult to explain having and even more difficult to get. It glows purple in the dark, making the Symbol shine eerily.

“Hello?” Jimmy half whispers, then winces at his own voice. He’s not sure how to begin a prayer.

(Is that what this is, then? A prayer?)

But to his surprisingly, the symbol whispered back.

Speak, ask, for your allies grow wary.

Speak, ask, our yellow canary.

The whispers are at once ancient and powerful, but overwhelmed with a feeling of greed and hunger. They rise above each other in a cacophonous wave, their harmony forming words.

(Jimmy shouldn’t be surprised. This is why he’s here, after all, to ask Them for something — but then why did They never answer his prayers?)

(The Listeners. He’d prayed to them, been loyal to them, but as promised, they’d only ever Listened. Listened to his pleas and prayers, listened to his cries of pain, listened to the pain the canary wings brought him, cycle after cycle.)

(Well, he’d had enough. Of course, he’d heard the warnings, but if the Watchers were really in charge, surely they could make sure Secret Life wasn’t a fluke.)

(Surely they could take away his wings.)

“Is my curse broken?” That seemed like a good place to start.

The Symbol flickered, presumably from one of the candle flames glinting off the enderman blood.

First to die, first to sing,

Your song is deadly, and chaos it brings.

But we have an offer, if you’re prepared to take it.

It will require sacrifices, if you’re ready to make it.

Swear off those meddling false gods of yours

And your life before another will be ensured.

His voice was shaking when he next replied. “Which gods?”

(He knew, didn’t he? He knew, deep down, that what he was doing was wrong. He could sense them.)

(They Listened.)

There are those that Listen, who value honour,

We are those you need, and we are Watchers.

Join us now, bird, parrot, canary,

Or this cavern of yours won’t be quite so airy.

They weren’t threatening the existence of his curse, Jimmy realised. They were threatening to invoke it right now, to kill him deep underground with no way of escape.

Maybe he shouldn’t have done it underground.

(But he remembered it later, when the news reached him: Mumbo was dead. Not a new canary — the curse hadn’t transferred — for his death hadn’t been an omen of chaos, but an accidental death. A mishap with explosives, a death alone from others.)

(A mishap, sure, but Mumbo knew his way around tech. Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be slightly nudged to the wrong place at the wrong time, his hand guided by some all-seeing force. They waited, and their promise was fulfilled. Now for his end of the bargain.)

(They Watched.)

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

Another Sneak Peak into Novaxiom. My world of Sonoric Sorcery!

The First Chapter! I wrote this overnight as I finally finished the outline I liked. I could do a deeper dive into this if you are interested :)

I emerged not like you did—not from some warm, comforting womb but from the cold, unyielding depths of the Crystalline Expanse within the Polar Symphonies of Novaxiom. My first memory isn't a mother's lullaby or a father's proud tears. No, my first memory is a perfect chord resonating through my being, waking me from a timeless slumber.

Imagine that. A vibration jolts Your entire existence into consciousness, a note so pure it slices through the void. That’s how it all started for me. One moment, I was nothing but an inert crystal; the next, I am Syrin, a sentient carved from the essence of the Gods themselves.

At first, everything was a symphony. The world unfolded in a stir of light and sound, each note and each shimmer a part of a grand composition that I could only begin to barely comprehend. So, I roamed the crystalline caverns with a kind of naïve wonder, my every movement refracting light into dazzling displays. The ancient energies flowing through the crystals whispered secrets of the past, long-forgotten songs, and the echoes of beings who had vanished eons before my awakening.

I could sense it all: the harmony, the beauty, the balance. It was intoxicating, this perfect world of resonant energy and light. But as with all things, perfection is an illusion, a fragile construct waiting to be shattered.

I remember that first discordant note vividly. It was faint at first, a subtle vibration that didn't quite fit with the rest. But it grew stronger, more seductive, like an unfamiliar yearning in my mind. Innate curiosity or maybe a sense of enticing the hands of doom - I'm still unsure which - drove me to follow that dissonance deeper into the caverns. It led me to an ancient, forgotten shrine, a place of power and ruin.

Here’s where it gets interesting. The shrine wasn’t just a relic but a battleground, the site of a long-lost struggle between harmony and discord. The air was thick with the remnants of that ancient conflict, and the dissonance I’d sensed was its ghost, still haunting the ruins. It spoke of betrayal, power, and a curse upon my kind—those like me who were born from the very essence of Novaxiom.

In the shrine, I learned of the beings who came before me. Auralis, the master of sound; Mentis, the weaver of thoughts; Vitalis, the giver of life. These primordial forces shaped the world and, in their wisdom—or folly—created beings to guard and guide the balance. But power corrupts. And where there is power, there will always be those who seek to twist it to their ends.

The Cacophonous Wars—what a mouthful, huh? It sounds almost lyrical. In reality, it was anything but. It was a barbaric, devastating conflict that almost tore the world apart. Psillusionists, with their twisted magic, turned harmony into a weapon. Korux, the name still sends shivers down my crystalline spine, was the worst of them. His legacy of darkness and discord is a stain that Novaxiom will never fully erase.

I saw it all through the remnants of the shrine. I witnessed the echoes of history replaying within those crystalline depths. I swear it! I witnessed the rise and fall of Korux, the Psillusionists' punishment, and their subsequent transformation, which led to the birth of Dysphoni.

Now, here's where it gets a bit muddy... Dysphoni are born deaf, cut off from the natural Sonoric energies that shaped our world. Defeated, they retreated to the Shattered Saskatchewan, harnessing and developing their own dark arts, manipulating silence and discord. Isolated and discriminated against, their resentment grew with each generation.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. It sounds like a bedtime story, a cautionary tale told to frighten children into behaving. But this isn’t a joke; I shouldn’t even be telling all of this to you; it’s all too dangerous. The Dysphoni didn’t just fade into the background. They bided their time, honing their skills, waiting for the perfect moment to rise again.

And rise they did. Led by a descendant of Korux, they surged forth from the Shattered Saskatchewan, their silence a weapon, their discord a plague. They aimed to engulf Novaxiom in darkness again to finish what their ancestors had started. The Great Silence, they called it, was an era where sound would be subjugated, where silence and discord would reign supreme.

But here’s the twist. The Dysphoni weren’t just the villains of the piece. They were victims, too, shaped by a curse that wasn’t entirely their fault. Born into a world that feared and shunned them, they turned to the only power they had left—silence. It’s tragic, really. A cycle of pain and retribution that keeps spinning out of control.

So, where do I fit into all this? I’m the observer, the chronicler of this endless symphony of creation and destruction. I’ve seen Novaxiom’s beginning, witnessed the rise and fall of its most remarkable powers, and now I stand on the precipice of its future. My role as an observer allows me to share these experiences with you, engaging and connecting you to the world of Novaxiom.

I walk through the Crystalline Expanse, my faceted form shimmering in the dim light, and I wonder. What’s next for us, for Novaxiom? Can we break the cycle, or are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes, to fight the same battles repeatedly? The echoes of the past are loud, but perhaps, just perhaps, we can find a new chord, a new harmony that includes even those born of silence.

Maybe that's the answer—not more conflict but integration, acknowledging the pain and resentment, and finding a way to turn it into something beautiful. It sounds naïve, I know, but after everything I’ve seen, maybe a little naivety is precisely what we need.

For now, I have to keep wandering; there are so many more frequencies I can attune to! At least the Gods gave me something to work with on this crazy ass planet! Just gliding along these snowy hills, listening to the songs of the crystals, the whispers of the past. I’ll keep telling you the story of Novaxiom in the hope that one day, we’ll find the harmony we’ve been searching for. It’s a long shot, but what else is there to do in a world where even silence begins to sing?

Tag List! ✬

@drchenquill @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks @leahpardo-pa-potato @slenders1ckn3ss

@somethingclevermahogony @inky-duchess @sassystyl @rotting-moon-writes @highlycosmic

@avaseofpeonies @oc-atelier @ceph-the-ghost-writer @paeliae-occasionally @davycoquette

@unforgettable-sensations @hissorrow22 @boredwritergirl @scorpiothesaint @thewrathoffemalerage

@rirori-jeorgiarn @spookyceph @enne-uni @the-golden-comet

if anyone is interested in joining or being removed from the tag list, just reply to any post & let me know! :)

[jackhkeynes]

13th Lexember - Borlish

zizania "discord"

zizania /ˌzi.zaˈnja/ [ˌzi.zɐˈnja]

discord, disharmony, dissonance, cacophony, a harsh combination of sounds;

discord, tension, strife, dissension, arguing, lack of agreement of harmony between people;

anguish, distress, angst, inner conflict;

temptation, spite, vice, sin, feeling drawn to doing wicked things

Etymology: seventeenth-century borrowing from Lombard zizania "ryegrass, weed; discord, vice", which displays a metaphorical extension dating back to its ancestor in Late Latin zizanium "cockle, ryegrass, darnel; vice", a borrowing from Greek. Its modern association with cacophonous noise is probably due to sound symbolism.

Nos oyau zizania dereðr dy mur dy rajognoir. /nɔz oˈjo ˌzi.zaˈnja deˈrɛðr̩ di mɪr di ˌra.ʒɔiˈnɔir/ [nɔz ʊˈʝo ˌzi.zɐˈnja dɪˈʀɛ.ðɐ di mɪː di ˌʀa.ʝʊiˈnɔ.jɐ] 1p hear-ipf.1p discord behind of-df wall of-df boardroom We heard arguing through the boardroom's wall.

[danco110]

"You don't tame a horncrest, Malcolm. You convince it that it's easier to destroy something else."

“Ooh. Now that doesn’t sound like the usual Sun Empire spiel, Amautl.”

Though he was tied by his own rope and hanging upside down, Malcolm still managed to smirk at Amautl’s words. He then made his taunt with both the Sun Empire soldier and her bonded dinosaur glaring up at him.

“That’s right,” laughed the siren, “I can tell you’re exactly not on the same ‘peace and harmony’ bandwagon. But don’t worry, I’m not judging.”

Amautl turned up her nose at Malcolm. “We would never be so cruel as to force our companions to do anything. We work together.”

“Until dinner time, you mean.”

“Actually,” Amautl grinned, “that’s when we get along the best.”

“You’re…gonna eat me?”

“Wh- No! I mean, I direct them to eat you. I don’t do any of the actual- Enough stalling!”

“Worth a try,” Malcolm muttered.

Amautl pointed up, and her horncrest opened its mouth. Before the dinosaur could feast, however, a cacophonous screeching interrupted it.

“SWINGING AND RESCUES AND- ACK!”

A goblin with a beautiful hat swung into view. He promptly became tangled in Malcolm’s bindings and ended up similarly restrained.

“Ah, Breeches!” Malcolm chimed. “So nice of you to join me!”

The goblin’s head bobbed up and down in a frantic nod. “YES! PARTNER MALCOLM!”

“All right, that’s…heartwarming,,” Amautl groaned. “Now, back to-”

“YOU SHOULD MUTINY!”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“BIG LIZARD SHOULD MUTINY!” Breeches bellowed. “MASTER PUTS OFF MEALTIME, MAKES YOU CHEW METAL BITS!”

“That is ab…surd…”

Amautl felt a shiver down her spine. She looked behind to see her horncrest eyeing her, now.

“Easy…easy…?”

Amautl turned tail and sprinted away, the dinosaur chasing close behind. Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good thinking, Breeches.”

“LEARNED MUTINY FROM OTHER PIRATES!”

“Thank goodness…” Malcolm blinked. “Did you bring anything to cut us down?”

“NO!”

Malcolm hung his head, angling upwards due to him being upside down.

[Scene: Player 1 casts Mutiny, forcing Player 2’s Horncrest to kill their only other creature and leaving it unable to attack or block.]

[laxyaklovesloz]

Write November 2024 23 Isekai | Genre Swap [Tropes]

Master Post

While wandering in the Ghost Zone, Danny and Chelsea get deposited somewhere new.

During their wanderings of the Ghost Zone, Danny and Chelsea discovered a gaping cave made of craggy gray stone. The odd formation drew Chelsea’s gaze and she floated up to it.

“Careful,” Danny warned, following her. “You never know what you’ll find around here.”

The cave seemed endless. Chelsea didn’t go in but examined the edges. She saw a five-pointed star etched into the wall, and below that, a list of words. She recognized “Earth,” but that was it. The rest were gibberish. And why were there three Earths listed?

She sounded out one of the words, her fingers tracing the letters. “Denduron…”

To her surprise, a light shone inside the cave. With it came harmonious musical notes, like you’d hear from tuning forks. The rocks started to clear like they were made of crystal. She felt a tug that grew stronger with the light and the sounds.

“What did you do?” Danny asked frantically, floating beside her.

“I just read a word,” Chelsea said, pointing. The light was getting so bright they had to shield their eyes, the music notes so cacophonous they had to cover their ears.

“Hurry!” Danny shouted. “I feel it sucking me in!”

“Me, too!” Chelsea replied, but she couldn’t escape the pull. Try as they might, Chelsea and Danny couldn’t fly away. They were trapped.

The bright light flashed, and the two found themselves in a strange tunnel made of crystal-clear rocks. Beyond the rocks were thousands of tiny stars. Were they in outer space? But how? The Ghost Zone didn’t connect to outer space. Or did it? The music notes continued, but now they wooshed past, fading in and out quickly.

“What is this?” Chelsea asked in awe.

“I don’t know…” Danny replied.

Chelsea whipped her head to look at him. “You don’t know?”

“Hey, I’ve only explored a fraction of the Ghost Zone,” Danny said. “This could be anything.”

“Alright, alright,” Chelsea said. “So… what do we do now? Just ride this out and hope for the best?”

“If you want do to that, then fine,” Danny said. “Me, on the other hand, I’m going to bust my way out of here. As… soon as I get my powers working.”

“Your powers aren’t working?” Chelsea asked, alarmed. She tried creating an ectoball to no effect. “Mine aren’t either!”

Danny crossed his arms and frowned. “I hate this floating feeling.”

“But…”

“I know, I know, I float all the time,” Danny said. “But that’s my choice. This isn’t. I don’t like it.”

“You’re just miffed that you can’t blast your way out of here,” Chelsea said with a smirk.

“Aren’t you concerned?” Danny asked.

“Nah,” Chelsea said. “We’re not getting hurt, and it’s pretty. Just relax and enjoy the ride.” She put her hands behind her head and kicked up her feet.

“How can I when we don’t even know where we are?” Danny countered. “Or where we’re going.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Chelsea said. “Just enjoy the view.”

Danny looked up and around. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty.”

They didn’t know how long the ride lasted, but they could tell they were moving fast because of the music notes whizzing by.

After a moment of silence, Danny spoke up. “Have I ever told you that I wanted to be an astronaut growing up?”

“No!” Chelsea said. “It sounds like you gave up on that dream. Why?”

Danny gave her a flat look and motioned to his body.

“Oh, right,” Chelsea said, blushing. “I guess being a ghost puts a damper on things. I don’t know what I wanted to be, other than a princess of course. I never saw a future for myself. No wait, I take it back. I wanted to be a mommy, but that was when I was really young.”

Danny looked away. “Can you… Do you mind telling me how long you were sick?”

“I don’t mind,” Chelsea said. “I was in kindergarten when I had my first seizure, but I wasn’t diagnosed for another two years after that.”

“Did you… always know you were going to die?”

Chelsea tilted her head in thought. “No. I don’t any child knows that. Then my grandpa Parley passed away when I was six. That’s when I learned about death.”

“You know,” Danny said thoughtfully, “my parents have always been obsessed with ghosts, but it wasn’t until I became one that I thought about death.”

“I think we’re at the end,” Chelsea said as the light and music swelled. “Sorry to cut you short–”

The two were deposited gently on their feet. Behind them, the tunnel quieted to a normal cave. They looked around for any sign of where they were, but all they saw was more cave.

“–But I think we’re here,” Chelsea said. “Wherever here is…”

“So… how do we get back to the Ghost Zone?” Danny wondered.

At his words, the tunnel came alive once more. The lights and music started up again, and they felt tugging at their bodies.

“That seemed to do the trick,” Chelsea said. “I wish we could have looked around a bit…”

“I don’t,” Danny said.

“Hey, I think I see someone!” Chelsea said, squinting. She waved. “Hi!” Then the tunnel picked them up and they were on a journey again. “Darn it!”

~~👻~~

Bobby Pendragon watched the two figures disappear into the flume. Who were they? Where did they come from? Were they more of the Travelers that Uncle Press told him about? So many questions and no answers. Such was Bobby’s life right now.

Well, I did it again. I mashed Danny Phantom with Pendragon. I hope you enjoyed this little trip through the flume! If you haven’t read Pendragon yet, then you so should! It’s my favorite book series. D.J. MacHale is a huge influence on my writing.

Let me know if you want me to continue this little Isekai, or if you’d like to see more from different worlds. I have a few other ideas for this prompt that I outlined before deciding on Denduron. Hobey ho!

[rookfang]

@woodcries / kione: somewhere in arlathan.

Camped under an outcrop of shale, Laika sits on her heels and tries to listen to the forest. It's so much quieter than the city; she feels like she could hear a conversation miles away. Birds sing to each other in cacophonous harmony. From her shadowed spot, the patterns of the sunlight through the leaves makes the underbrush look endless.

" Is every elven ruin surrounded by picturesque nature, or is it just the one's we get to explore? " Laika jokes, a half smile curling up her face.

[bambiraptorx]

Eyestrain/Bright Color warning

"Donnie gasped out in agony as those familiar tentacles bore into him, finding those familiar pathways they used mere months ago. He could feel them, squeezing into his brain, droning out a cacophonous harmony that drilled into his brain with excruciating persistence.

One body, one voice, one mind. One body, one voice, one mind."

My interpretation of the end of chapter 2 of The Motherboard. I love fics where Donnie gets messed up from the technodrome, and this is a good one!

[I.D. A digital, full color drawing of Donnie from ROTTMNT. He is wearing a purple sweater and clutching at the fabric in the center of his chest with one hand, the other held slightly above his stomach. His face is contorted in a fearful grimace, the left eye wide open with a pink sclera and the right eye squinted with a yellow sclera. Around him are jagged lines pointing to him, colored green, yellow, and blue. The background is pink and has three concentric circles composed of jagged lines centered on Donnie. The center circle is bright red, the second one is a darker red, and the third is a desaturated maroon. End I.D.]

Commissions Info

bonus: here's a desaturated version because it still looks cool

[I.D. A desaturated version of the above picture in greyscale. End I.D.]

[peppermint-whiskers]

Ok wait idea for God Possessed Pentious au that you can totally ignore/burn in a fire.

What if humans were,like, made of music. Screw dust and dirt, humanity was born from the notes and songs of the Heavens. Musical notes run through their veins. Their souls sing with an ancient melody. Music is an intrinsic part of humanity.

Idk. It’s dumb.

No wait that's actually really sweet 😭😭 Maybe their bodies are made of dust, but their souls are made of music. Each one sings its own special song and that's what creates personalities

The song develops over time from a simple melody to something complex and unique. Some people's songs are jagged and sharp, and others are very slow and languid. Some are cacophonous and others are harmonious. Raguel can see souls, but only El can hear them fully

[mortheim]

Experimental USSR - Victory over the Sun

As much as I don't like the history of the 20th century (basically anything after WWI), I think stating that the early USSR was one of the most interesting countries in history wouldn't be an overstatement. One of the first countries that legalized gay marriage (taken away by Stalin later), literacy campaign (from 56% in 1916 to more than 80% in 1937), legalized abortions (undermined by Stalin), legalized divorce, providing maternity leave, equal rights, NEP... It was a bloody time, but a lot of things changed for the better for most people. I don't like the later USSR, but even then it still tried to provide good living conditions to most people. Central heating, housing, bathrooms in apartments, etc. Obviously, we can say a lot about how bad it was (for example, peasants didn't have passports until 1974, making the USSR a state with serfdom). But looking only at the bad things won't show us the full picture. This is why I want to talk about some experiments in the Soviet Union -cultural, social, and maybe even scientific. Today we will start with a play with costumes by none other than Malevich himself...

Victory over the sun.

"Victory Over the Sun" is an experimental opera staged in December 1913 at Luna Park in St. Petersburg. It was the result of collaboration between key figures of the Russian avant-garde: poet Alexei Kruchyonykh, composer Mikhail Matiushin, and artist Kazimir Malevich. They called themselves "budetlyani" (people of the future). The production was rooted in futurist ideas of radical departure from the past, a rejection of traditional art forms, and a drive to create something entirely new and unconventional.

The opera’s text was written by Alexei Kruchyonykh in a so-called "zaum" (smart-ass) language - a unique blend of sounds, words, and symbols meant to express new meanings detached from the logic and grammar of a conventional language. The Zaum language was intended as a way to break away from old literary and artistic canons, embodying the Futurist ambition of freeing art from its historical forms.

Mikhail Matiushin’s music was equally unconventional, far from traditional melodies and harmonies. It featured complex, dissonant, and unpredictable musical forms that challenged the audience's expectations of what an opera should sound like. The experimental use of dissonances and rhythms created an auditory landscape that heightened the futurist themes of the production. In this video, you can hear how it sounds.

Kazimir Malevich’s set designs and costumes became one of the most iconic aspects of the opera. Drawing inspiration from suprematism, Malevich rejected traditional depictions of space and reality. His stage design consisted of abstract geometric shapes that starkly contrasted with conventional theatrical art. The costumes were cubist and rectangular constructions, symbolizing mechanization and a rejection of the human figure.

Not only that but decorations were destroyed during the play. They were part of the play - not just a scenery. Here are some of the sketches of the costumes by Malevich. You can find more examples in this Wikipedia article.

The plot of Victory Over the Sun symbolizes futurism and modernism's triumph over the old world. In the opera, the Sun, representing the established order, is "captured" and caged by futurists who seek to destroy old norms and create a new world. The meaning was veiled and ambiguous, sparking debates and confusion among the audience. Some consider it science's victory over nature (you can somewhat compare it to a Dyson Sphere), while others thought that it dismantles the "Sun of Russian poetry - Pushkin.

The first performance caused an explosive reaction. The audience didn’t understand what was happening on stage - the libretto seemed absurd, the music cacophonous, and the set design too radical. The response was mixed, ranging from admiration to outright rejection. It was one of those moments when art challenged its viewers, offering a completely new aesthetic.

Victory Over the Sun had an impact on the development of avant-garde art, especially in Russia. It was during the work on this opera that Kazimir Malevich created the first version of his famous Black Square - a symbol of suprematism.

[vexx-ation]

365 Albums in 365 Days: 2/365

Date: Tuesday January 2nd

Album: Hooligan

Artist: Soda Bomb

Released: 2012

Genre: Punk

Review: This album wins an award in my mind for making me remove my earbuds in confusion more times than any other piece of music. What starts off as a typical rock beat— clear, bright guitars and heavy vocals— immediately takes a sharp left as the panning and echos crash harmonies in your ears just far enough apart to disorient. It’s disruptive and cacophonous, unharmonious in just the right way as to be surprising but not unpleasant… at least not completely. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I enjoy the album— it’s not something I don’t think I’d ever listen to twice— but it’s an enlightening experience all the same and I think everyone needs to check it out at least once.

Favorite Track: Mr. Kevin

[vinylspinning]

T2: It'll All Work Out in Boomland (1970)

Before there was U2, there was ... T2?

Emerging into a progressive rock scene given to overstatement and embellishment, England's T2 came up with one of the genre's most mysteriously brief monikers and conversely colorful album titles with 1970's It'll All Work Out in Boomland.

A power trio composed of expert players Keith Cross (guitar, keyboards, harmony vocals), Bernard Jinks (bass, harmony vocals), and Peter Dunton (drums, lead vocals), T2 emerged from the ashes of earlier groups like Neon Pearl, Please, and Bulldog Breed.

Obviously, all of these are now all-but forgotten (Dunton also briefly joined Adrian Gurvitz's Gun), along with T2, but modern-day critics and collectors still rave about It'll All Work Out in Boomland, and for good reason ...

At first, I wasn't entirely sold on this 55-year-old record (my appetite for prog-rock remains finicky, at best), but I can now say you won't find too many ensembles able to back up their tall compositional ambitions with both quality songcraft and undeniable virtuosity.

To wit, first cut "In Circles" is a hard-driving, hard-rocking, eight-minute juggernaut infused with the clinical urgency of jazz fusion, minus the excessive solos, while the album's shortest number, "J.L.T.," counters this with a dreamy but not cloying semi-psych.

Next up, "No More White Horses" opens with vicious guitar shredding worthy of Ritchie Blackmore before gliding into cinematic horns (come to think of it, not unlike Gun's earlier work) and delicate piano, before mounting a steady crescendo towards a cacophonous climax.

Finally, the fourth and final cut, "Morning," sprawls across all of side two with over 21-minutes of eclectic but tasteful and never wasteful style-hopping, evoking everyone from from King Crimson to Pink Floyd to Soft Machine to the as-yet-non-existent Rush.

But, somehow, all this talent went to waste ...

Following the album's release on Decca, T2 played numerous U.K. clubs, including London's Marquee, and later at the legendary Isle of Wight Festival, but work on a second LP faltered amid dwindling promotional support and growing musical differences.

T2 broke up and their unfinished album was shelved indefinitely, until resurgent interest for overlooked '70s gems led to a 1990s reunion and new releases like '92's Second Bite, '93's Waiting for the Band, '94's On the Front Line, and '97's early demos collection Fantasy.

I haven't heard any of these but I'm now very tempted to seek them out based on the impressive contents of It'll All Work Out in Boomland, which I highly recommend to fellow fans of vintage heavy rock and prog.

More Vintage Progressive Rock: Art's Supernatural Fairy Tales, Beckett's Beckett, Birth Control's Operation, Bodkin’s Bodkin, A Bolha's Um Passo à Frente, Can's Ege Bamyasi, Clear Blue Sky’s Clear Blue Sky, Crack the Sky's Crack the Sky, Culpeper’s Orchard’s Culpeper’s Orchard, Eloy's Eloy, Flied Egg's Dr. Siegel’s Fried Egg Shooting Machine, Focus' Moving Waves, Frumpy's Frumpy 2, Fuzzy Duck's Fuzzy Duck, Genesis’ Nursery Cryme, Goblin’s Profondo Rosso, Gracious' Gracious!, Hard Meat’s Hard Meat, Haystacks Balboa's Haystacks Balboa, High Tide's Sea Shanties, Horslips' The Tain, Jade Warrior's Jade Warrior …

Even More Vintage Progressive Rock: Jethro Tull's Aqualung, Jody Grind's Far Canal, Kansas’ Kansas, King Crimson's In the Court of the Crimson King, The Move's Looking On, Murphy Blend's First Loss, Nektar’s A Tab in the Ocean, Osage Tribe's Arrow Head, Paladin’s Charge!, Patto’s Hold Your Fire, Pink Floyd’s Meddle, Premiata Forneria Marconi's Photos of Ghosts, Quiet Sun's Mainstream, Rush’s Hemispheres, Savage Grace's 2, Stray's Stray, Steel Mill's Green Eyed God, Stray Dog's Stray Dog, Styx's The Grand Illusion, Tempest’s Tempest, Van Der Graaf Generator's Pawn Hearts, Wild Turkey’s  Battle Hymn, Wishbone Ash's Argus, Yes' Fragile.

[khaosinfo]

CHAOS MANIFESTED.

AT THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD there was nothing . no earth . no land . no sky . and no gods . nothing . a very vast and very dark NOTHING . except this nothing has life . and for eons , it’s life is nothing but to exist as a swirling , yawning void in a dark , cold world .

it was called KHAOS , and it was the fundamental building block of the universe . it was a RANDOM being . a confusing , cacophonous . and uncertain being . but somewhere in it’s randomness , in it’s cluttered , docile mind , sprung HARMONY and everything was born .

WITH FOUR FACES.

THE PRIMORDIAL KHAOS . the original form . he lied in wait before to give way to the creation of the universe , and he lies in wait again for it's eventual end . he walks the earth under the name abraham doe . he is a well-know fiction writer .

notably aloof , introverted , and peculiar . versatile ( prefers to bottom ). fc: hugh dancy

THE DESTRUCTIVE THOUGHT . the first phase . the first thought made by khaos was not something gentle , nor something with a goal . instead it was destruction , and it's destruction formed the first building blocks of the universe . he walks the earth under the name adam moore . he owns a dive bar called the cradle .

notably blunt , impulsive , and domineering . bottom ( power bottom ). fc: charlie hunnam

THE CRADLE OF THE WORLD . the second phase . after the first gave way to creation , he labored with the things that float in the primordial soup ... and he created , and nurtured , until the universe was born . now , he walks the earth as ben parks . he is a university professor .

notably kind , patient , and welcoming to all . versatile ( anything goes ) . fc: henry cavill ( main ) chris hemsworth ( alt ) .

THE WANDERING LIFE . the third phase . the accidental avatar of khaos brought down to the universe as it was being created . his first set of eyes that saw the potential in this creation-- however confusing and mind-melting it might be . today he walks as agustin richards . he is a bartender at the cradle .

notably crass , promiscuous , and insatiable . bottom ( non - negotiable ) . fc: aaron taylor johnson ( main ) zane phillips ( alt ) .

THE NEWEST LIFE . the last phase . the new avatar of khaos , still in his youth on earth . the symbol of a new life , who will see and experience life with a fresh set of eyes . to see if the creation of the universe amounted to something . to see if it's worth preserving . on earth , he walks as arni ender . he is a university student .

notably care free , gregarious , and passionate . bottom ( non-negotiable ? ) . fc: cody christian ( main ) taron egerton ( alt )

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERIZATION NOTES.

[dansconcepts]

In a Snowy Haze

I'm in my fantasy/magic/fairy tale/mystical mood (I'm reading "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern right now and it's really enchanting so far), so have a sudden off the cuff drabble with the goal being "dream-like" (with a hint of Komahina):>.

The clouds are like marshmallow puffs, blanched confections with small white crystals in the form of snow inside. It pours itself down in hopes of decorating the ground in its same hue. He tentatively walks atop it. It's at the earliest stages, where the grass underneath his feet still peek out, as if relishing its ability to do so before it's completely covered.

Not that he's thinking too much about grass being smothered. Instead, his thoughts are focused higher, eyeing his destination beyond thick trunks of trees blocking his path, their own green leaves falling around him and disappearing into the white mass below. With each step, the snow becomes less powder-like, and more like a blanket that sweeps through the whole area.

And yet he marches onward. Lying somewhere in this forest is the person he is looking for.

"You should be careful." She says, a pout on her lips, ruby hair glistening while doves coo around her. Clocks of various different shapes tick and tock, an onslaught of colours that are so cacophonous they're harmonious from the finite range they're allowed to be. They both are sat at a rounded, ornate table, dainty teacups in front of them despite neither moving to touch them. A teapot pours the dark liquid anyway into the girl's cup, and she shoos it away. "Alright, that's enough, thanks. Anyway, I'm pretty good, nyeh, but that guy is on a whole other level..."

He nods. This was what he prepared for for a long time, and at the behest of his mentor, he'll do his best to see through the illusions. "I'll do what I can." He affirms, and she grins, pleased.

"Remember what I taught you, 'kay?"

The hands of clocks stop moving suddenly, but the clocks themselves become a flurry of movement off the wall. Rectangular teal, another red, one a cube of violet, a burst of what looks like a circle yellow- it enters his sight and leaves just as fast, disrupting him with their presence. Amidst it all, he knows dusty mauve watches him.

A familiar test. He snaps. They freeze. The haphazardly arranged rainbow starts to slot themselves back into the wall.

The younger girl gives a firm nod, before she yawns. "Ah, you'll be fine. I've gotta recharge my mana after that one..."

The forest is a complete winter wonderland. He awaits for a sign, some glimmer of strangeness somewhere in the non-spilling clouds. A faint tremor in the branches, perhaps, or snow piling onto itself to make a snowman. Perhaps his opponent would manifest something like a tiger, or a rhino, to chase him through this snowy abyss. Perhaps the clouds itself would become a little darker and pour rain.

It is none of these things. Instead, he finds a figure in the snow, head jutted upward to the clouds. A hazy aura from the snow's reflection of the sun makes him look like an ethereal being, delicate white hair somehow beautifully unruly and blending with the environment around him.

"Komaeda." He realizes. This indeed is a strange occurrence. He isn't sure why he thinks that, but he knows it. "Enjoying the weather?"

"Oh no, it's too cold for me." His soft voice replies, yet he isn't wearing a thicker jacket. Instead he has his usual ratty green, and he doesn't bring it closer to him either. He would've expected him to be hugging it tightly, even if the warmth it would provide is minimal. It's funny that this is what makes him realize he isn't wearing a jacket of his own, but he feels only slightly chilly. There's something off about that too, yet he doesn't dwell on it.

"Then what are you doing out here?"

He turns, white crystals gently coating his eyelashes. He serenely grins. "You tell me Hinata."

His eyebrows furrow. What kind of question is that? But of course Komaeda wouldn't tell him a straightforward answer. "Tell you?" He repeats, but the other only continues to smile.

A pale hand extends outwards, before moving back and forth sideways into a wave. "Well, maybe I'm just here to say hello." The motion twists into a flourish, the wind picking up in the direction of his movements as if summoned by them. His hand raises, and random spots of snow around him lift into balls before transforming into rabbits before his very eyes. They hop downward easily, scurrying away. "Or maybe I'm the one you're looking for."

Huh?

How strange. Is Komaeda the one he should be wary of?

How can he face him? Against Komaeda's luck, that'd be a disaster. Besides, Komaeda wouldn't hurt him. Even now, he hasn't done anything worrisome.

And what of himself? Isn't he just a normal guy? Sure he has magic, but- wait, actually, where did he get magic from?

Before he can ask anything, a strong wind bellows from the North, sending a flurry of snowflakes into his eyes. Of course. He shuts his eyelids as the wind nips at his cheeks.

When the air stills and his vision clears, the man is gone.

Myriads of pinks, purples, and light blues twinkle above him in the form of basic stars.

His body lays flat atop a soft, sturdy surface. His mattress. His bed.

He breathes.

"Maybe I'm the one you're looking for."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Right. That was an odd dream.

[phvle]

The Enneagram of Divine Forms — Point 3: The Displayer

Cannot observe or appreciate the perfection of the cosmos and instead react by developing their own sense of perfection and harmony

Separate themselves from the harmonious flow of reality and become the creators of their own reality, a reality that is in complete disharmony, repetitious, cacophonic and strident

Ego-delusion: being an extraordinary doer and performer of acts of great display and flamboyance; vanity, terror of being ignored which makes them ‘go for it, take charge, and present yourself with all you've got’

Complete uncertainty and discomfort of being inadequate

Intense anxiety and anger of not being good enough

Projection of being ignored by their father, which provokes desire in them

Passion of deceit: a make-believe as in professional acting, the political arena, or the military display of action

Cunning and efficient on one side and bluffing and histrionic on the other

Identification: their primary defense mechanism, identification with their own conduct and social theater wherein they assume identities by imitating another person or fictional character imagined as a role model, or they identify with the values and attitudes of a group

Self-deception

Assert to themselves: ‘I am practiced and innovative’

Terror of being unconvincing

Ego-reaction: the extreme anguish they experience for appearing inauthentic

Ego-justification: complain and project blame on others as a justification for any mistake or blunder

Over-exertion as their way to pacify themselves for their lack of results and success

Authentic on one side and theatrical on the other

Source: @/if u seek amy on PDB

[another-hydro-dragon]

Summary

Zhongli puts on his shoes with some mental resistance. The moment he places his now covered foot on the ground, it’s like the world goes numb and hazy around him. It’s a little easier once he’s outside the building and he begins to walk on the stone carved path. On the other hand however, it does become more difficult to listen to the tremors and vibrations of the ground and walls. Liyue Harbour is a loud, lively, busy, eccentric city. The movement of people walking around, their conversations and the constant jingle of Mora being exchanged sounds like a hive full of swarming bees to Zhongli.

It’s a beautiful, cacophonous and vibrant harmony. But it too puts strain on the mind of a man just trying to find his way to work.

~

Two short stories paired with two flashbacks featuring Zhongli but if he was born blind (+ my own bs lore about him)

Tags

Blind Zhongli, Abstract Flashbacks, Slice of Life, Zhongli is a Little Sad, but he's mostly happy here dw, Zhongli is a parent to all teenagers in Liyue, long-winded descriptions of sounds and smells, because it's Zhongli's pov and also he can't see, Minor Guizhong/Zhongli, mentioned in the flashbacks, honestly they're queer platonic to me, Zhongli Acting as Xiao | Alatus's Parental Figure, Memory Loss, Erosion, this is the fic where I leave all my headcanons and loving thoughts about him, Blind Character, tremor sense, Magic Disablity Aid, Fantasy Braille