#ascending primes

[dustedmagazine]

Modney — Ascending Primes (Pyroclastic)

Ascending Primes is a number game. Violinist, composer and improviser Modney (née Josh Modney) grew its music from his ongoing interest in the intellectual logic and sensate satisfaction imparted by just intonation (hereafter referred to as JI), a tuning system that favors whole number ratios over the book-cooking compromises of the more widely known equal temperament, which has been the world’s tuning standard since that beautiful sound-culture neutralizer, the piano, made its way around the globe.

Modney found in JI a method that made sense of his instrument; it simply sounded better. But he hasn’t kept the pleasure to himself. The performance units he has assembled for this double album advance in steps dictated by the progression of prime numbers — one, three, five, seven and finally 11 players. His violin, sometimes amplified, is the only instrument to appear in every aggregation. As the ensembles expand and change, so does the music. It is never simple, but neither is it cluttered or unnecessarily busy. Playing alone, the sound of each of Modney’s violin string leaps out, illuminated by the overtones that JI enables and coarsened by liberally applied distortion.

The smaller line-ups are non-standard but exemplify the chamber music aesthetic of exposed interaction between players. At different points Sam Pluta’s electronics and Cory Smythe’s JI-tuned piano disrupt the flow. But as the ensemble’s increase in size and diversity of instrumentation, jazz elements creep in. Ben Lamar Gay’s puckering cornet and Charmaine Lee’s swooping voice adopt jazz-informed, solo voices within the septet, poised atop the multi-directional rhythms of Dan Peck’s tuba and Katie Gentile’s drums. The largest ensemble is also the most inclusive, marshalling hackle-raising strings, gut-rumbling horns, rhythm-opposing clusters, angelic/demonic vocal exchanges and straight-up noise into a sequence of events that seem to be pushing against implacable time-keeping.

There’s a lot of JI music, especially that made by string players, that seems to treat tuning system’s sonorities as ends in themselves, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But Modney has taken another tack. Like Anna Webber, who appears in the largest ensemble, he puts the sounds to work alongside the genre elements to create music that is stylistically unlimited and viscerally affecting.

Bill Meyer

[chamom1le-t3a]

mr loverman 😢 coded old men

[ 👇 line art and more shii👇]

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Touch Her Soft Lips and Part

Optimus Prime x Reader - transformers prime

Tyres rolled silently despite the weight they carried; the packed snow did much to muffle him as he neared your home. The sky was a deep blue, and it reflected upon the crystalised snow around him, casting the world in an ethereal glow you’d told him was called ‘the blue hour’. It was beautiful, yet Optimus couldn’t admire it just yet, not until he reached your house.

Winter tyres had never crossed his mind. He hadn’t need for them in Jasper, and rarely did he ever have to drive on snowy or icy roads but coming over to visit you after days apart had been important as he’d grown worried for you. It wasn’t often you stayed away for so long, and if you did then you’d usually give them a call to tell them of your schedule.

The radio silence had gnawed at him, so now, after nearly accidentally sliding off the road as the ice and snow had taken him by surprise, he slowly transformed as your house came into view. The windows appeared mostly dark at first, but upon further inspection, Optimus could see a soft, warm light coming from within the entryway. A light you usually kept on whenever you went outside so you wouldn’t be plunged into darkness should you come home late.

In other words, you were not at home.

Optimus looked around, trying to see possible tracks of your car leading away, but the snow laid out from your garage was undisturbed. Looking closer, he found partially snowed-over footprints leading away from your home and out towards a narrow path leading into the forest. Relieved to see proof of life, he’d yet to set his concerns aside as the footprints were clearly a few hours old. There wasn’t a single cloud upon the darkening sky, and you must have been gone for quite a while.

Trying not to rush, Optimus slowly follows the path, pedes finding unsteady ground as he holds his servos out to push away looming branches on both tall and smaller trees. A few moments where he almost stumbles have him mumbling a few small words in Cybertronian. Not swearing, but merely frustrated by his predicament and slowness. For all that he knew, you could be hurt and freezing in the snow, and here he is stumbling like a young sparkling trying to take its first steps.

The path grants him mercy the further he proceeds as trees grow farther apart and the land opens, revealing a fully open expanse. Optimus takes in the sight that Earth offers him. A great lake stands frozen, stretching far out and over to the great mountain on the other side, its giant peak standing like a hook towards the sky. All had yet to release its hold of the blue hour, though it was the lake whose blue tint stood out the most, the thick ice full of cracks, and it sang as the temperature dropped with the approaching night; ice growing thicker still.

And there, far out in the middle of it, was you.

Moving swiftly and with the grace of one of Earth’s swans, Optimus watched as you spun and slid across the ice. Feeling confused as to how you managed to move so quickly and easily, he tried to look closer as you unknowingly came a little closer, and beneath your feet were blades, gliding effortlessly across the frozen lake.

Yet again feeling amazed by the creativity of humanity, Optimus watched in silence for a while, appreciating and admiring the sight of you. A long, white woollen coat keeps you warm, a flowing blue scarf adorns your elegant neck, and a woollen hat hangs far down along your back, a puffy, woollen ball dangling at the end of it. It looks handmade. It must be made by you, crafty as you are. He smiles, admiring you even more.

“Optimus!” you shout, startled at the sight of him as the light of his optics caught in your peripheral. You’re still far away from him, but your voice echoes and he hears you clearly. He’s sorry for startling you but the warmth that flows through him at the sound of you has him forgetting it almost immediately.

He doesn’t reply but merely watches as you come towards him, a precious flower not made for him yet still seeking his presence and touch. His digits twitch and his optics are soft, never releasing your form as nearer and nearer you come. He sits down on one knee, ice cracking beneath him but no water comes out; all turned solid so close to shore.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, slightly out of breath as you come to a halt. Your cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, breath is visible in the air, and Optimus takes a moment to admire the sight. Admiring the life that spreads warmth throughout your small body.

“We had not heard from you in many days. I began to worry something was amiss,” said he, still watching you. Some of your hair was hanging out, framing your face. The dwindling blue light cast you in a lovely glow, your eyes glittering along with the snow and ice surrounding you; perfectly made for the land you’d been born to. Unknowingly, he reached out a servo, and you took it without thought, shocking him and making his spark jitter as you suddenly kissed him, cold but soft lips touching the outer part of his index digit.

“I’m sorry. There was a snowstorm five days ago and I’ve had little to no cell service. I sent messages to Miko, Jack, and Rafael in hopes that they would reach you, but it seems that it was faulty,” said you, smiling regrettably up at him. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, Optimus.”

“You need not apologise, y/n,” said he, intakes deep as his frame threatened to overheat despite the coldness surrounding him, the touch of your lips warming him from within and out. “You did what you could to reach us. I should have attempted to contact you sooner. Forgive me for my lateness,” he said, and your face split as a fond smile stretched across your mouth and eyes, and softly you chuckled as, once more, you kissed his digit, and this time Optimus’s cooling fans kicked in as his spark melted.

“You are now and forevermore forgiven, Optimus,” said you, chuckling still and resting your cheek against his servo as he reached around to hold you. Your feet slid across the ice, and he glanced down.

“These… shoes you wear on your feet. They are adorned with blades."

“Ice skates,” you said, sliding your feet back and forth with ease. “We use them to better travel across the ice, or to perform, or to just play,” you said, shrugging your shoulders as a light shudder passed through you. Being still seemed to give the cold a chance to sink its claws into you, but you resisted when he attempted to lift you up and instead shot him a hopeful smile. “Hey, won’t you join me out on the ice?”

Optimus glanced out over the lake. “Will it hold me?”

“Yes,” you said, sounding certain. “It will. I know it.” And with that, you snuck out from his hold and far too easily slid out further onto the lake, and Optimus felt the need to reach out and grab you again, already missing your softness and warmth.

It took him a few careful steps to test the ice as well as finding how slippery it was, but one step after another he gained more confidence. It didn’t take him long to reach you in the middle of the lake, his optics trained on you as slowly but surely you were cast in a bright green light. Your eyes looked upwards to gaze upon the arrival of the northern lights, and your mouth opened slightly; awestruck.

“Oh, Optimus, look how beautiful it is,” you whispered, unable to look away from the dancing light above you. Likewise, Optimus could cast his optics away from the living painting before him. You, standing amid thick, cracked ice cast in a green glow from above, yet none of it drowned you out. Instead, you were like the stars upon the night sky, glowing bright with life.

“You are beautiful,” said he; unconsciously. Speaking from his spark.

You turned to look at him, startled by his words and frozen still by his intense stare. His optics, so bright and blue, were warm and lovestruck as he bore a tender smile upon his face plate, and your heart fluttered at the sight as your breath caught in your throat. And still, even as the flush of your cheeks was now a mixture of cold and heat, you smiled back at him, admiring the way the light above danced across his frame.

Words were thrown to the wind as eyes and optics stayed locked in silent whispers, and bladed feet hung in the air as warmth engulfed chilled skin, cradling it close and protectively as metal touched soft lips, locked in a moment of ancient and new affection; fragile, but deeply burning love intertwining.

Next Music: Scott Buckley - Hymn To The Dawn & Celestial

[moonlitministry]

Can I just say that in my opinion Air ghoul is insanely underrated

Like in live recordings from the early years that man is just whipping out the insanest off album things on that keyboard and I never see anyone talk about it

[mercymaker]

she was never given a choice on how her life ended. claimed, like an object, a jewel, yet another victory in a long line of conquests. yet, maleane did not intend to let go of control so quickly, resign to a fate meant for tragedies and sad tales. no, she still had claws underneath that pretty mask, sharp fangs behind a smile of adoration, a dagger hidden under the silken sheets of their shared bed. she could still claw her way to the top. and how could she dream of a different outcome, when she was already high above everyone else? and only a single chess piece above her. a figure easily moved by carefully crafted words, swayed by honeyed praises. mal might've missed the more sinister parts of astarion before it was too late to save her life, but she knew the rest of the tapestry. his whims, his wounds, his aspirations. her voice could coax him, enrage him, and then... soothe him. like a boy king who could never see the leash coiling around his throne.

the non-sad version of 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓 & 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓

[wisdomnynaeve]

I have died pls accept this very quick and poorly done gif of domestic lan thank you

[manueltorresart]

The whispered one achieved godhood and it is called Vecna the ascended. This the final confrontation of Vox Machina. However, C1 isn't over yet, there are a few post-campaing characters I'll draw. Voiced by Matthew Mercer on @criticalrole.

[bizlybebo]

PD CRUMBS. PD CRUMBS IN MY WONDERLUST

[the-sky-queen]

I'm curious

@boom-fanfic-a-latta

[number1yisuchongfan]

I love making AU’s for the Fallout TV show and today I’ve made a Star Wars AU. I have two separate versions of Thaddeus for that AU, which I’ll describe below the art (which I hope you enjoy :3)

And I would also love your guys opinions on this AU of mine! Like questions and comments or whatever really…

Human!Thaddeus:

Thaddeus feels very specifically to me from being from Wild Space or at least somewhere seen as not important to most people in the Galaxy, something sad and wet and that he felt trapped on until the Brotherhood found him. I think his father would’ve been a very religious Ghorman man, while his mother is a local of the planet he was born (Odessen) on that happened to share the same religion. He grew up on a large ranch, raising nerf and ghoats, but it wasn’t extremely exciting and their business really struggled with Clone Wars restrictions and then the Empire’s fist on everything and making it a hassle to deal with legally…

And that feels just really appropriate for him, and I think he’d actually have a lot of experience with other species and languages. It gives him a ability to connect with others on a level most in the Star Wars version of the Brotherhood don’t have mostly. Like he knows Sy Bisti, Binary, and Ghor, and knows enough Mando’A and Huttese to read and roughly translate things for people. It’s useful in the Brotherhood surprisingly!

Chiss!Thaddeus:

Tiobth’add’eustivti or Thaddeus (aka his core-name) is much the same as his human counterpart part, but for his family background. Which is that his Family, the Tiobth, fled Csilla and the Chiss Ascendancy for political reasons and fled as far as they could from Chiss-controlled space. They’re still ranchers, but now they live up in the mountains of Odessen and only come down to trade and smell meat, which have Thaddeus a more accepting feeling towards others and especially towards humans. It also gave him a yearning to leave home, and his Family’s infighting politics.

Though he is a complete weirdo to everyone in the Brotherhood when he joined, mainly because he can see into the infrared spectrum and has better hearing and reflexes than his peers, and also the fact his eyes glow in the dark and he just lays awake most nights because he doesn’t need as much sleep also made the brothers uncomfortable with him. The scribes like him, mainly as a study subject, and they like his physical appearance as well because it’s striking. Cleric Quintus only knows about him because of that…

[starlingstalk]

Trying to process stuff with art. The bathroom used to be the hit place to sit around. It‘s so silly bcs I can immediately tell what era I was in by the hat I‘m wearing when I look at the pictures. I always wore the brown poofball hat inside at all times.

Brown poofball hat = 2020-21

Black and white earflap hat = 2022-23

Blue-purple wool hat = 2023-24

This will be the quintessential me lore for historians in the future.

[anarkhebringer]

I like how their dynamic during Dawntrail is just this for a majority of MSQ

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Step Inside My House

Optimus Prime x Reader - transformers prime

Fire roaring within the wood stove, you hum as the chill of the winter air is kept at bay, unable to penetrate the walls of your cosy home. Lights abundant, both living and wishful copies, stay scattered throughout your living room, be they long with dripping wax, or solid pillars steadily burning or artificially flickering. Many are positioned close to your desk, papers and handmade letters scattered throughout in preparation, wax seals a mess.

For a moment there is the sound of a gentle roar outside. You glance up at the window by the countertop, hands stalling in their work of kneading the dough, but see nothing amiss across the snowclad land outside.

Shrugging, you continue your work.

And then there was a knock at your door, quickly followed by another… then another. They were careful, barely there initially, as if afraid of being too rough, but after the third knock, they grew more confident; assured that your door wouldn’t shatter like glass. You set the dough away, allowing it a moment’s rest; letting it rise in preparation for becoming bread.

“Coming!” you called, glancing outside as you ventured towards the entryway. It is dark, the stars shining upon the sky, the snow-covered trees leaning slightly from the weight upon them. Who in the world could be at your door now? You expected no visitors.

You glanced at the winding stairs as you neared the front door, knowing you had an old cane you could use as a weapon in case someone malevolent was outside, but it was within your bedroom, and it’d take you a moment to reach it.

Hesitating, you look out the narrow window beside the doorway, nearly jumping out of your skin in pure shock and disbelief. Now hurrying, you unlock the door and fling it open, almost sending it crashing into the figure who stood by its front.

“Optimus!” you say, voice laced with awe as your breath turns to mist in the frigid winter air. “How—You’re small!” Smaller, much smaller than what he is, but still towering over you. “What!? This is amazing!” say you, now gushing and looking him all over, eyes wide with wonder.

Optimus shifts on his pedes, smiling a little as you admired him, though you seemed unable to notice it yourself lest you would have turned cherry red long ago, your lovely bashfulness ever difficult to overcome.

“Up until now we did what we could to preserve our energon reserves as much as possible, but with our recent finds of smaller mines, we finally have enough for a long while,” said he, explaining it although you weren’t listening to him, far too busy taking in every detail of his smaller frame. His spark fluttered, and his digits twitched. “I wished to surprise you.”

“You did! I am!” you say, laughing and grinning from ear to ear as you swing the door wide open. “Come in! Oh my gosh! You can come inside my home,” you say, bouncing on the spot as you step back. “Watch your head—oh, and there’s a lamp hanging right inside—ah, yeah, you got it.”

He’s careful as he comes through your doorway, the warmth of your home embracing him as he closes the door behind him, wonderment flooding throughout him as he takes in the sight of your entryway and the stairs leading up; steps too narrow for his pedes to walk upon, though he wouldn’t entirely trust the wood to hold him either.

His helm turns quickly towards you as your small hand touches his arm; fascinated.

“I can’t believe it. You’re…” nearly lost for breath, you look up at him, eyes sparkling, making him wish he could drown in them. “You’re lovely.”

Bashfulness seems to have disappeared completely with the arrival of your awe, so, for now, it is he who feels his face plate flush with warmth and his spark pulse almost painfully; wishing to emerge so it could bond with you this instant. Reaching out he takes your hand in his, holding it tenderly within his servo; its softness never fails to fill him with amazement.

“And so are you, my spark,” says he, leaning down a little as his free servo encircles your waist; so delicate and warm. Had he been Orion Pax, then his resistance would not have been so strong, but he mustn't hold back long for you reach up, cradling his helm as you bring your lips to his, kissing him with all the warmth and love you could muster, and he, too gladly, reciprocates with all of his might; relieved to finally have you again, the itch in his digits vanishing.

There is a single ding, light and clear, and you part from him though you laugh in surprise as he chases your lips, kissing you again and feeling embarrassed at his eagerness but he didn’t wish for this to end so soon. His servo lets go of your hand but only to reach up and hold the back of your head, bringing you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, emboldened by the way your body moulds to his own; a puzzle piece finally finding its home.

The kiss you’d shared upon the lake had been the crack that made the dam break. Although he was feeling a little flustered by himself, Optimus could not truly make himself retreat, not until your hands came to hold his helm, sighing into the kiss, before again leaning back; two fingers coming to cover his mouth, teasing him.

“I must prepare the dough for the oven,” you said, alien words not coming through Optimus’ lovesick processor. You giggle, the sound so lovely it makes his optics flash for a second. “I’m baking, Optimus. Preparing food, if you will. You can come and see if you want?”

The offer brings him back to reality and he steps back, releasing his hold on you as he leans back up again, face plate slightly flushed.

“I apologise for my lack of control, y/n,” he said, cooling fans just barely heard in the background, though you show him mercy and do not comment on them. “Please, show me your home.”

Grinning, you turn and head towards the door at the end of the hallway, passing by another to your left. Optimus follows, peeking into the one you’d passed to see your living room, lights flickering from candles and the wood stove alike; cosy and warm, with furniture and decorations filling the space perfectly. He spared but a single moment to notice your desk, feeling curious about the work you clearly were doing there, but filing to ask you later as he instead followed you through the doorway that led into your kitchen.

Yellow accented, it smells wonderfully, small as it might be. You’re eager as you show him what you’ve been doing, what you’ve done, and how it all will finish as you prepare the dough and set it inside the oven; setting a timer for when the bread shall be finished. Mundane tasks of everyday life, something you do every week, but Optimus loves it all, the peaceful existence of an equally peaceful life.

It reminds him of the danger you’d been put into simply for having been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and now you were unable to just exist as you have, having to come to the base on at least a weekly visit.

“Don’t look so glum all of a sudden,” you say, flicking some water at him as you finish washing your hands. It succeeds in surprising him, and you laugh at his wide-eyed expression. “Sorry, I just had to force you out of your thoughts. You have a way of drifting into the negative when surrounded by comfort, you know?”

Did he know? Had you learned to read him so well that you noticed it right away?

Entranced, he accepted the kitchen towel from you, wiping away the droplets of water you’d flicked his way. This… This made it feel as if you both were living here, joking around as you prepared a hearty meal to share. He wished he could eat it with you.

“Your home is wonderful,” said he, following you into the living room through a second connected door in the kitchen. Ducking to avoid hitting his helm, he steps across wooden floorboards, the creaks concerning him, but you wave a hand in dismissal.

“The floor upstairs creaks when I walk on it too. It’s an old house, they do that all the time,” you say, sitting down on the sofa and petting the spot next to you. “Don’t worry, it’ll hold you.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

Only when he’s sat down, encouraged to relax as you drape a woollen blanket across his lap, does his spark almost leap out of his chassis as you sit yourself onto his lap, too. Cuddling close to him, legs resting against the free seat of the sofa, you smile as you rest your cheek against his neck cables, your hair tickling him.

“This okay?” you ask.

He responds by holding around you, bringing you a little closer, leaning his helm to rest against the top of your head, the light of the wood stove draping you both in a comforting embrace. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, far too overcome by emotions, so he simply holds you and you return to hold him, kissing his neck cables before you sigh; relaxing.

For a single moment in his long life, Optimus allows himself to pretend that the war does not exist, that this is where he belongs and should remain until the end of his life, for it is soft, and it is warm, and it is where you are. It is here he wishes to remain, frozen in time, but even knowing that it must eventually end, he finds himself not caring too much, for he is grateful; and he is happy.

Previous / Next Music: The Planets, Op. 32: II. Venus, The Bringer of Peace

[smol-mighty0]

He’s soooooo cute I can’t-

[malecius]

how does the gang feel about optimus prime. and is it rancor, disappointment, anger, and grief

[afkintheark]

Got some goblin server pics!

We have the Castles, Forts, and Keeps mod so I had to make our house out of that. The crafting area is mostly made from structures we've gotten out of supply drops so it's very hodge-podge. XD

We are going to need to expand it soon already. Eventually I want to set up specific crafting areas (one for cooking, smelting, woodwork, etc.) but I'm waiting for inspiration before I start on that. >.>

We have some very pretty raptors. Kel bred our first two and got a male baby, so we have a 2m/2f pack now and we're gonna start going after the goblin camps soon. \o/

And Max hit 62 and got the argy saddled, so we finally saddled our carno and doedic, and can do the therizino in a few more levels. I am so happy for smithy saddles. >.>