#abacus tool

[disease]

ABACUSYNTH by ELIAS JARZOMBEK [2022]

Abacusynth is a synthesizer inspired by an abacus, the ancient counting tool used all around the world. Just like an abacus is used to learn the fundamentals of math, the Abacusynth can be used to explore the building blocks of audio synthesis.

[jigsawabacustraining]

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[rinnysmuses]

im gonna try and get into the you know whats.

starts with an m

ends with a D]

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Math, Roman Style

It's a lot of math involved in governing ancient Rome. First you gotta subtract all these voter bribes from your coffers to get yourself a consulship, then rig the lots to multiply your chance of getting a sweet, sweet province like Macedonia. No sooner are you done adding up the loot you extorted from the provincials, then you gotta divide it among the jury prosecuting you for the crimes you 100% committed. And to make it all worse, you have to do it all in Roman numerals!

MMLXVI + DCCXIX = PAIN

But never fear! The Romans found ways to work with their wacky numbers. Pretty damn cool ways, too. I promise you don't need any math skills for this post.

Let's recap the Roman numerals real quick:

I = 1

V = 5

X = 10

L = 50

C = 100

D = 500

M = 1000

If a smaller number comes after a bigger number, like in XII, you add them: 10+1+1 = 12. If the smaller number comes before the big number, you subtract it: IX = 10-1 = 9.

The trick to math with Roman numerals is that you don't write them out for equations the way you would with Arabic numerals. Instead, you put them on a counting board:

In Arabic numerals, each column is worth ten times as much as the one to its right. The same applies here. M is worth 1000, C is worth 100, X is worth 10, and I is worth 1. You mark how many units are in each column by putting pebbles on them. Since groups of 7-9 pebbles get hard to read quickly, the Romans also had half-columns worth 500, 50, and 5.

On the counting board above, we have two 1000s, one 500, one 100, four 100s, one 5, and three 1s. Added together, that's 2,648. To add or subtract, you just add or remove pebbles from the board. In fact, the Latin word calculus (hence "calculate") originally meant little pebble.

But what if those devious provincials flip your board over when you try to extort - ahem, tax them? Could you have a counting board in your hand?

Hell yeah you can.

That's an abacus, baby! (Or a replica, at least.) Here's how it works:

The pebbles are now built-in. Instead of adding or removing them from the board, you flip them up or down to indicate if they're "on."

The 5, 50, 500, etc. columns have been moved upward, and can only be on or off.

Instead of M - which only appeared for 1000 in medieval times - this abacus uses the older notation system of putting (parentheses) around a numeral for 1000, 10,000, and 100,000, or a |box| for "x100,000." The "M" on the far left is probably a muddled |X|.

Ignore the two rightmost columns for now, we'll return to them later.

If you're Japanese, this might remind you of the soroban, an abacus still used for math today:

Let's try reading this thing!

I've decided to read it soroban-style, so beads moved toward the center bar get counted. That gives us:

One 5 million

Two 1-million

One 500,000

One 100,000

One 50,000

One 100

Two 10s

Two 1s

= 7,650,122

However, scholars disagree on the exact method the Romans would have used. And some of the beads are only sort of up, so you might interpret the number differently. That's okay; this is just an example.

Incidentally, this is also why Europe went for so long without a numeral for 0. If you're using an abacus, "0" is represented, just by setting all the beads to the "off" position. If you're writing the number down, you just write "none."

The really cool thing is that you can do more than add and subtract with an abacus. You can also multiply, divide, and find square and cube roots. And those weird columns on the right are a uniquely Roman tool, to handle Roman measurements.

The basic copper coin in Roman currency was the as, which was then divided into 12ths (unciae), not 10ths. The Roman foot (length) and pound (weight) also divided into 12 unciae, which is where we get the words "inch" and "ounce." So the rightmost column is in base 12, to make math easier.

These 12ths could then be divided into 1/2s, 1/4s, or 1/12s again. The 2, 1 and 1 beads in the second-right column let you divide the 1/12s as small as 1/24, 1/48, or 1/144. A Roman abacus lets you do (limited) fractional math!

Once you've worked out the result, the columns are easy to translate back into Roman numerals. Then you stick this gadget back in your tunic, because it's quite small - literally a "pocket calculator."

My favorite thing about abacuses is that you get a concrete feeling for how numbers relate to each other, rather than just memorizing abstract symbols and multiply/divide tables. I've been using a Soroban app to practice, and it's actually pretty fun!

[betterbooktitles]

My great grandfather “Bud” Wilbur gave his son Jack an Erector Set one Christmas then took it back the same day. The Erector Set was a children’s toy made of metal pieces that allowed kids to build various model structures like bridges and poorly made bridges. Before video games, children had very few choices for entertainment: marbles, Erector Sets, or becoming a Peeping Tom. Those were the choices. My grandpa Jack was going to be an engineer like his father, and to seal his fate, great grandpa Bud bought him the tools to try his hand at building. Bud, seeing the pieces scattered on the floor must have thought “pearls before swine” while having his eureka moment. Using the toy he had bought his son, he built a model of what he called The Simultaneous Calculator, what the American papers in 1937 called “Robot-Einstein,” and what the Japanese dubbed “The Wilbur Machine.”

He didn’t build the first calculator. I believe that honor technically belongs to the Mesopotamians who made the first abacus. Nor did the calculator conceptually resemble the digital computing systems we have now that employ ones and zeros and a lot of electricity. The Wilbur Machine was an analog computing system with pulleys and brass bars that solved 9 equations simultaneously (or 9x9 systems according to an MIT grad’s thesis that I can only comprehend up to page 4). Math equations that once took a full day to solve now took roughly 1-3 hours. It sped up the production of large structures, power grids, and for one country it seems, planes. It was a big advancement in 1936-37, an advancement that was eclipsed by better smaller machines soon after. In the United States, that is. In Japan, a 3x3 system Wilbur Machine was replicated in the late 30s and a fully functioning 9x9 calculator was completed in 1944 at the Tokyo Imperial University’s Aviation Laboratory.

You read that correctly. My great-grandfather Bud Wilbur built a machine that was stolen by an Axis power right before World War II. Japan continued to use the machine until the war’s end. So, uh…sorry about that? It wasn’t Bud’s intention.

Read the rest of the essay here.

[shhtickerbook]

Iced Chocolate

chapter one

~

A stubborn as always Willy Wonka just has to go the extra mile for his ingredients, even if it lands him into very very cold bother.

Chapter two

~

Wonka agere / sick fic! This will have a few chapters, just wanted an opportunity to write some good ol comforting sick fic fluff yknow? I apologise for constantly hurting this poor chocolatier. also it is obvious at this point that abacus is a major comfort character for me lol. AO3 link below too.

“Willy you are such an idiot sometimes!”

Noodle was walking along with Willy Wonka, allowing him to lean his weight into her. Although he was much taller than she was, he didn’t weigh much and she was a strong girl for her age. The chocolatier was dripping wet and nearly frozen, he had been determined to get a supply of “freshly fallen snowflakes” for his peppermint fondant filling. But not any old snow, it has to be the purest and untouched powdered snowflakes. Both of them had snuck away outside of town, Willy claiming that the best place to find them was perched on the end of a willow tree leaf.

They had spent a few hours searching, Noodle getting colder and more irritated as time passed. Every time she was sure they had found some, it was never good enough for him. Too dirty, not a fine enough powder. Then at last, Willy called out, just as the sun was beginning to set.

“I see it!”

He ran ahead, knees riding high as he galloped through the snow. Right there resting upon a bright green leaf was a small pile of glittering untouched snow. The branch was hanging just over the now frozen river, too far to reach from bay. Noodle, gasping for breath from trying to catch up groaned at the sight.

“Willy, why does this matter so much?”

She said between gasps with her hands on her knees in exhaustion, head between her legs. Willy however, grabbed a vial from his pocket to collect the goods. As he was about to step onto the ice, a yell surprised him to step back.

“What do you think you’re doing?! That’s ice!”

She pointed out obviously, tugging at his magenta coat. As unbothered as usual, Willy pulled out his cane. And before taking any step out, he tapped it against the ice firmly. Not a single crack.

“See? It’s all good. Quit your worrying”

He chuckled, stepping out confidently onto the frozen water. Noodle not even wanting to watch, but as he continued on there were no signs of the ice cracking. Once far enough to reach, he pulled out a small metal tool to gently manoeuvre the pile of snow into the glass bottle. Very gently tapping the base of the leaf until there wasn’t a single snowflake left.

“Got it!”

Willy exclaimed, pushing the cork on top to seal in the precious substance. Noodle couldn’t help but laugh at the insanity of it all, but it was what she loved about him.

“Here, Catch!”

He gently threw the vial, Noodle just catching it before it hit the ground. The small bottle felt freezing to the touch, and when she looked closely you could see the tiny snowflakes flurrying around.

“Woah. Willy, won’t these melt by the time we’re home?”

She held it up to the now dwindling light, looking up at it in awe.

“Ah, well here’s the thing. These snowflakes-“

Willy was making his way back when an awful sound echoed beneath him. A terrifying crack that echoed and reverberated back and forth below his boots. Both Noodle and Willys eyes meeting in alarm, neither of them saying a word.

“Heh heh, it’s alright- I’ll just-“

Before he couldn’t finish his sentence, there was a terrible weightless sensation as the ice fell beneath. Silencing any cry of alarm as he was plunged into the freezing cold water. Noodle screamed, running forward in panic.

“NO! WILLY!”

For a few seconds the chocolatier had disappeared, before suddenly Willy Wonka burst from the water with a gasp.

He was absolutely drenched, but it seemed the water level only came up to chest. Which was good as Willy wasn’t sure if he could swim very well.

“Oh, nevermind I guess”

He choked out, blinking the cold water out of his face. The adrenaline still pumping through him to find this slightly comical. Noodle however was not impressed, grabbing at his sleeve to pull him back onto land.

“Look at you! You’re gonna freeze to death”

Noodle had seen headlines in the paper, of men whom had plunged into cold water and never returned. She couldn’t believe how stupid the he was. She wanted to punch him she was so angry, but upon seeing his stupid grin she couldn’t help but chuckle in fatigue of it all.

“The snowflakes, you didn’t drop them?”

He spoke through chattered teeth, Noodle sighing. Willy could’ve drowned and all he cared about was a few snowflakes in a jar?

“Yes, it’s in my bag- but that doesn’t even matter, you need to get somewhere warm. And fast!”

-

And so Noodle did her best to get him back to the wash house as quickly as possible. His optimistic attitude quickly fading as they neared home. It had become a bitterly cold evening by the time they got back. Willys shivering starting to become violent, which only worried Noodle more. She banged hard on the wash house door, not caring if she alerted Mrs Scrubbit or Bleacher.

Thankfully it was Abacus who had answered, who had been wondering where on earth the pair had gotten themselves to. When he saw the state of the drenched boy, he stared them both down for a moment before sighing in exasperation.

“Get in, the both of you”

He curtly commanded, taking over noodles job by taking ahold of the frozen chocolatier. Even through his jacket he could feel how low his body temperature must be.

“I’m- ffffine Abacus. Just got a little wet. The ice was not as thick as I thhh-ought.

Willy tried to assure, but the cold felt like it was seeping into every crevice of his body. Almost as if the blood in his veins were freezing, slowly crystallising into ice. Noodle quickly relayed what had actually happened, much to Abacus’ dismay. The other workers quickly surrounding to help too. Faces full of worry and concern for their friend. Abacus examined him very carefully, he had medical experience from when he had been drafted as a young man. The boys skin was freezing cold to the touch, and shivering violently. He was clearly showing signs of hypothermia.

“Pardon my language Mr Wonka but you are truly are a stupid bugger sometimes!”

The man chastised, then carefully undressed him from his signature magenta coat, which was now sopping wet. He wrung it out best he could before folding it over a chair near the fire. Willy just stood there, all the adrenaline now expired from his body. Leaving him freezing and shivering cold, no longer feeling up to his positive mindset.

“I’m— So-orry”

He hated disappointing people, especially Abacus. Whose firm school teacher voice was extremely good at making you feel ashamed. With a sigh, he helped Willy to his feet before turning to the rest of their friends.

“Now I’m going assist Mr Wonka to his room, we’re going to need hot water bottles, blankets and likely a warm drink. Could you all manage that?”

Everybody nodded, but Noodle seemed very reluctant to leave Willys side. Abacus gently put a hand to the girls shoulder comfortingly.

“Do not worry dear, he’s going to be fine. Now if you could make up a hot drink of some kind it would be most helpful.”

He then turned back to the boy, eyebrows raised in disapproval.

“And for you, let’s get you up to your quarters before you become an icicle!”

Willy was still very cold to the touch, his lips still blue as they slowly approached their rooms. Cold beads of water fell from his curls, dribbling down his neck which was incredibly unpleasant.

“It’s okay- I’ll be fine”

Willy tried to stand up for himself, not wanting to make a bother for everybody. It was his stupid mistake. But the older man wouldn’t hear of it, practically carrying his weight into his room. Willy had bared swimming in cold water before, why was this so different?

“Oh the state of this room Mr Wonka!”

Abacus exclaimed when they both took in sight of it, clothes had been strewn across the floor, different chocolate ingredients scattered across the table. The bed completely unmade, with old socks hung upon the bedposts!

“It’s oka-y… I’ll clean it up”

Wonkas head felt funny, but he pushed on ahead. But when he tried to take a confident step forward it felt as if the world suddenly shifted on axis. Abacus grabbing ahold of him hard before he fell.

“You are clearly in no state to do so young man, you’re clearly hypothermic. Now sit down on that chair whilst I deal with this”

He scolded him firmly before placing the man on his wooden chair, he truly was a sorry sight indeed. Although no longer wearing his coat, he was still dripping cold water onto the floor.

“You must get out of these wet clothes, and with your shivering it’ll be far too tedious to do it yourself”

Without waiting for any response, Abacus made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt, then guiding his long legs from his slacks. Willy wincing as he felt the cold air hit his bare skin, frowning up at Abacus.

“Y-oure only.. makiing me even mmore cold”

He spoke between chattered teeth, feeling even colder than he did before. Especially as his bare skin hit the cold draft in the room. Abacus just chuckled in amusement, especially at the weak scowl he was receiving.

“Staying in those wet things will only keep your body temperature low, you need to be in something dry and warm”

He spoke as he wrapped a blanket around his frame, feeling how cold his skin still was to the touch. Whilst he did his best to warm up, abacus made quick work of making his bed up before guiding him over.

“Now you keep your nightclothes in here? correct?”

Willy nodded as the other man pulled out his nightgown from a drawer, infact it was the one that Abacus had lent him weeks before. The larger nightgown would be easier to dress in, and offer more warmth. Willy didn’t have the strength to fight him on whether he could dress himself, the freezing cold causing that familiar fuzzy feeling in his head try and emerge.

But he was still determined to hold onto any shred of maturity just yet, feeling very guilty about all the care and time he must be taking up. But it was quite difficult to do so when you were being nursed by another person.

“You.. don’t need to be doo-ing this”

He spoke as the nightgown was pulled over his damp curls, Abacus now replacing the blanket again over his lap in bed.

“You’re very correct, I don’t need to be doing anything. But I’d like to.”

He looked up with a smile, making a lump form in Willys throat. Yet again that fuzzy feeling had returned, swallowing hard. Before he could reply, the door burst open. Behind a stack of blankets, hot water bottles and a drink in one hand was Noodle.

“I got everything you asked for, is he okay?”

With a fond chuckle the man quickly got up to help her out, the blankets had been warmed by the fire no doubt.

“I couldn’t find any tea or things for the drink, but Piper managed to heat up some milk. Mrs Scrubbit had some tea but I didn’t dare swipe any”

Once the pile of things were removed from her grasp, she placed the mug down to check on her friend. Whom more honestly, she saw as a brother now, though she’d never said so. He looked so different, his face pale and sunken eyes. Although he still did his best to hold up a smile.

“Are you okay Willy?”

The man in question nodded weakly, peering over at the milk, clearly unimpressed by the contents. With a disgusted expression he whispered into noodles ear.

“Desk, top drawer, two- no three! large spoonfuls”

He managed to slowly list out, hoping abacus wouldn’t hear as he was busy unfolding blankets and arranging the hot water bottles beneath the thin mattress. Knowing to never apply straight heat to a person showing signs of hypothermia. Noodle giggled, pulling open the drawer in question in his chocolate making case. There was a jar of what was clearly powdered chocolate, typical.

Although as soon as Noodle was about to spoon in a third heaped spoon of the powdered chocolate, Abacus intervened.

“That’s quite enough dear, i know Mr Wonka needs his fluids but we best not overdo it. Two spoonfuls are already enough.

Noodle grinned, but Willy rolled his eyes. Abacus finished tucking the hot water bottles between the springs of the bed frame, before adding even more blanket layers around Willys body. Noodle was perched on the bed, her hand tightly wrapped around Willys. It was so cold, she couldn’t help but feel atrocious that she hadn’t warned him more. He could be so ditzy about things sometimes, always getting himself into silly situations. Thank goodness she’d been there. She felt a weak squeeze to her hand, Willy looking up at her with his kind eyes. His head was starting to feel very very fuzzy now.

“Now I think it’s best we let him get some rest, Hm?”

Noodle seemed reluctant, but stood up. But as she did she noticed something on the floor, kneeling to hold up a little knitted bird. She smiled at it before looking over at Willy.

“Is this yours? It’s so cute”

Willy felt cold for a moment, alarmed that Noodle had found Chester. But she was very kind about him, throwing him over. Willy quickly snatched the bird, he wanted to hold him up to his face like usual. But with Noodle here he felt a bit foolish doing so, instead just tucking him under the Blanket with a nod. With one last concerned smile she held on a little at the door frame.

“He will be fine Noodle. I’ll make sure of it”

Abacus assured the girl with a wink, who seemed only semi comforted by his words. But she left with a sigh, closing the door slowly. Abacus then gently taking the mug sitting on the table before handing it over to Mr Wonka.

“Drink up, it’s important to get your internal temperature up.”

But rather quickly they realised it wasn’t going to work, Willys hands were still too shaky to hold onto the drink, the contents starting to spill over the edges and down his hands.

Willy sighed in frustration, but he then felt a hand hold onto the mug for him. Abacus’ steady hand holding it at an angle. Although not as sweet as he would usually take it, the hot chocolate felt heavenly. It’s warmth blooming through his chest. He hadn’t even noticed his eyes had half lidded closed until there was no more of the hot chocolate milk. Blinking before shaking his head a little, his face blushing.

“Oh-sorry. I could’ve held it”

He mumbled out, but abacus just smiled. Abacus had a very sure suspicion that a certain chocolatier was beginning to feel little small. Especially from the way he nearly fell asleep whilst finishing that drink.

“Not at all, you’re still shivering. But are you feeling any warmer?”

Willy shuffled in his bed, almost like he was checking. The outside of him still felt very cold and shivery, but he didn’t have that awful freezing sensation in his core like before. So he just nodded with a shrug, Abacus then excusing himself for a minute. Promising to be back in just a moment, knowing he would be staying by his side for a little while and wanted to grab something.

Willy pulled out the knitted bird from the blanket, holding it through his thumb and forefinger as he pinched its chest. It was something he’d done for comfort since he was an infant, the toucans chests smooth and worn from years of love. Apart from his sacred bar of chocolate, Chester was the only thing directly from his mother. Abacus found Willy holding the birds close to his cheek when he returned, holding a book underneath his arm.

“I thought that we could continue that book from before, would you like that?”

Willy nodded, but still rather weakly considering his condition. He’d been really wanting to continue that book, but had felt too self conscious to request that they pick up where they had left off. Abacus sat himself down on a stool beside, opening the book up and letting Willy peer at it before he began to read.

“Why do they make the words so little?”

Willy shivered out at his squinted his eyes at the big blocks of text, all the letters kept on dancing around crazily and refusing to stay put. Noodles books were easier, he could use his finger to follow each one.

“Yknow what? I don’t know why either. Even with my spectacles it can be troubling to follow. But I assume it’s so there isn’t thousands upon thousands of pages”

Willy thought about a book with so many pages that you could barely open it, giggling rather deliriously to himself. Abacus looking only a little concerned, hoping he wasn’t developing any kind of fever.

But as he began to read aloud, Willy could quickly feel his eyelids feeling heavy. Which was very irritating as he had fallen asleep far too early the last time as well. He wanted to find out what happened to this funny sounding girl and her puppy. He tried his best to stay alert, jumping his head back up again when he felt himself drifting off.

“Willy, let yourself sleep.”

He chuckled, stroking back his still damp curls. Frowning as he felt how cold his skin still was. Although he saw how little Wonkas eyes fluttered in delight as ran his hand through his hair. Almost resembling a cat enjoying a good scratch, so he continued the action as he resumed reading. Just as they had reached the beginning of the third chapter, he heard a soft rumbling from Willy. Who had completely drifted off, snoring quietly.

Before leaving, Abacus carefully tucked the blanket tight around his frame. Smiling at the little knitted toucan thats wings were stretched over his pale cheek. Hopeful that the little frozen chocolatier would be able to thaw out by morning.

[ancientorigins]

Ancient tools and methods can still play a significant role in modern education and the development of cognitive skills, and the results are astounding.

[rukafais]

“ ‘With abacus, by architect, by carpenter, and mason,’ ” he recited, sweeping his arm out with dramatic flourish, and at the same time tapping his House insignia to enact a spell of levitation and lift himself conveniently and prudently from the castle floor, he reiterated and elaborated his song:

With all the tools and knowledge of structural design,

“For shelter most beloved, for love of hearth and home

“To build your private castle, to whom would you consign?”

Act now, you peacock! Kimmuriel screamed in his thoughts, which only made Jarlaxle smile all the wider.

There’s so many stupid moments in these books that i can picture perfectly in my head and it kills me every single time. I love these books so much.

[exaltatuss]

@ancientforged

"Oh, the Master Diviner, herself? To what do I owe the pleasure?" 'Daji' spoke. "Yan Sui told me that she heard the crisis the Luofu had been facing has been dealt with. I must congratulate the efforts you and the Cloud Knights have done in order to resolve it."

"That being said, are you here to browse on some of the wares or tools I have for sale? If yes, then you'd have to wait for the newer installments. I still have several new products that are pending for approval in the Artisanship Commission, after all. Once those get Master Gongshu's approval, I'd be able to put them on sale."

"Or do you wish to have your jade abacus checked? Nirvana FoxFire Services offers device checkups and repairs, after all. If so, I do guarantee that your jade abacus would be good as new once the repairs are done."

[error404vnotfound]

omg V you are a math major??? that's so cool! it's going to sound like really needy on my end right now but I literally found people who study math so interesting because I have a love-hate relationship with math so on the one hand I'm like "damn i wish I had been better in math" and on the other I'm like "why would I do that to myself?"

anyway if you want to could you like explain to me more about your subjects and the major perhaps? like what do you study (I mean math duh but like)

also history of math sounds like something I would love ng

l@ink-fireplace-coffee

HI !!!!!!

don't worry at all about this really. also being bad at math in high school it totally understandable (it is rarely taught well because there's no fucking time to get into what makes math cool so you just get methods and formulas for the engineering girlies to be able to use when they go to college) (also it's never to late to learn more math !!!! and you can decide to learn the cooler math (or just become familiar with them) there's a bunch of YouTube channels that make math fun to learn about)

also the "why would i do this to myself" SO TRUE. we ask ourselves this question constantly (the answer most of the time is that we all liked multiple degrees in different fields and ended up choosing math because???? it's what sounded most exciting to us????) (more insane things to think and say i know)

i love talking about this cursed degree don't worry :]

(cut because it got very long)

so. math is a big ass field with many branches. you also got pure mathematics and applied mathematics, and we get to study it all (help us)

there's calculus, algebra, geometry and statistics and probability as the "main" branches. we also take some coding classes (in C. for some reason) (because of course we do) (it's like instead of using a calculator we are using an abacus)

first year is basically so we get a good base for everything we are gonna be doing later on (like most stem degrees, only they learn all the math they'll their first year while we are stuck not being able to do stuff we learnt in high school because it hasn't been proved to us yet) (we get introduced to probability, do calculus both differential and integral in one variable and learn linear algebra) (we also had one physics class for some reason)

we take a class on mathematical language and reasoning too (learn ways to prove stuff, logic reasoning and tools that will be used in other languages) (we also learn how to build the different sets of numbers that was pretty cool). then after this class we also take arithmetics which is very cool and also a pain in the ass

from here on every semester builds on top of what we learnt the previous one. we go from calculus in one variable to two variables, then there's complex analysis, etc. algebra splits into pure algebra (groups and rings and very technical stuff that's very important but very dense) and geometry (linear and projective) and topology, then there's differential geometry and so on. we go more in depth into probability and statistics too

then there's also the standalone classes we take. there's numerical methods (which is why we had to learn to code. they are ways to approximate things irl because nothing is exact), then we have history of mathematics my beloved, graphs (very cool subject), and mathematical models and dynamical systems (heavily applying calculus to real life. think the covid prediction models that was this)

we also get a bunch of optatives to go more in depth if we want to, and we can also take some physics, economics or tech classes to get a minor in them

for some subjects this is very cool because the field is beautifully build. you start small or with what you want to do and things just fall into place (linear algebra, geometry, topology). then there's calculus (we hate calculus in this household). solving problems is fun but by god who came up with all this bullshit I just wanna talk (it's just unnecessarily convoluted imo)

as for how each subject is structured it's all the same: definitions, properties, lemas, propositions, and theorems (and their proofs). then the teacher shows us how to apply the theory to some problems and we usually have a laboratory to show we understood it

we basically learn the Why and How of it all :]

and yeah that's basically it. idk if I answered your questions but you can always ask!!!

:]

[fanflames]

·˚  HEADCANON: APPEARANCE.

this is a quick roundup of headcanons that focus primarily on tingyun's appearance. tidbits of headcanons on foxians as a whole will be sprinkled in here as well but i have plans to write a foxian worldbuilding meta to lay out all canonical details of their race + society and add onto what we know with my own inferences.  

canonical, but worth mentioning since this is a running theme throughout these headcanons: a large interest of her's is cosmetics. her interest began from a place of self care and confidence building and eventually evolved into another tool in her area of work.

tingyun was born the equivalent of a runt by foxian standards, so she's a bit smaller than the majority of foxians her age. the real life fox breed i'd equate her appearance to would be a fennec fox due to how MASSIVE her ears and tail are in comparison to everybody else, even yukong. 

tingyun maintains a simple aesthetic throughout her wardrobe and makeup choices. her everyday clothing fits the trends of the xianzhou and she tends to lean into warm neutrals like brown and off whites. red is her usual accent color (but she's picky about what type of red she wears), and her metal preference in any accessories is gold. 

the only outlier in her color palette is her jade abacus- while being extremely important in foxian culture and essentially being a type of smart watch, it also never gets taken off. it is intentionally small enough to never come off of her wrist unless it is broken, similar to the real life practice of wearing jade bracelets.

scent preference time ! tingyun has a variety of perfumes that have become essentially decor on her vanity because she always sticks to the same scent profile. she likes light florals with hints of citrus and water. her soap, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, etc. is all coordinated with similar scent profiles. she's the type of person that walks by and you turn your head like damn who smells so good?? 

she takes care of her health and appearance as a whole, but there's a heavy focus on her hair and fur- tail in particular. a big source of insecurity in her youth was in her appearance and that was largely equated to how large and fluffy her ears and tail are. it sounds silly, but foxian culture has largely been war based so looking as unthreatening as she does- along with her inherently passive nature- makes her a prime target for scrutiny. her pride in how meticulously she takes care of her hair & fur is largely in part to her trying to embrace what she can't change. she is very consistent with washing, conditioning, brushing, & maintaining it. the hair on her head and tail are treated almost exactly the same so they are both very soft. 

smaller note on her hair- she has the tips of her hair and tail dyed a subtle, darker red. it is not natural and she redyes it every month or two. 

i'll expand on this in a biology specific headcanon, but tingyun has all of the standard (...in my canon) features of a foxian including fox ears, a tail, sturdy & semi-retractable claws, longer canines & incisors (& overall sharper teeth), a longer & flatter tongue, and a naturally darker pigmentation around her eyes.

as for her claws, they grow quicker than human nails and they're on the thicker side. they naturally grow sharp, but she manicures them regularly and files them into more of an almond shape. they're usually a light, translucent nude-pink. she does it herself in her down time during her self assigned "self care days."

when visiting other planets for her work as a trade amicassador, tingyun will do her research to be familiar with their fashion standards and dress to match as best she can. if there is not enough information on this before she arrives, she will take time to people watch and mimick from there. her intentions are not to blend in or pretend to be one of them, but to show from the beginning that she is here to talk things through and respect their culture. as somebody who avoids conflict to the point of not having a weapon on her, i imagine her voyages are meticulously planned down to these little details. it is worth noting that during formal events or meetings, she will sometimes opt for xianzhou's fashion to show that she is representing them. 

[starsheild]

Forbidden Magic- Payment

“You are sure he is one?”

“As many as I’ve brought you and you still question me?”

Prowl ignored the exchange. He was tired, beyond tired. His frame ached. His helm ached. But neither pain came close to the pain in his spark. There was small comfort in knowing that his creations had escaped the hunters, but that was all it was. A small comfort.

Had Smokescreen been able to make it to Ratchet? He knew that they were not dead, but that was all. Hurt, lost… beyond his ability to help… He had fought.

A jerk to his chevron brought his helm up, and Prowl found himself staring into the cold optics of a priest. He was marked as priest of Primus, one of the high priests no less. Prowl’s spark went cold as his tired processor supplied a designation to match the faceplates.

Lifespark.

It was his designation that was signed to all of the proclamations and ordinances condemning Prowl’s kind. It was his closest disciples that spread the word from city to town to village all across Praxus. He had been high priest longer than any other on record, his spark and frame seemingly ageless.

“Witches garden in full season behind his hab.” Shadelock elaborated. “Bags all packed to run with supplies that won’t spoil and concoctions that the average mecha wouldn't know what to do with. And final proof?”

The dark plated hunter held out a cracked crystal, a the keystone that Prowl had used as he fought to give his creations time to flee. “Laid out two of my band with this before we could get it away from him. Set two more on their heels with a short blade.”

Lifespark took the dull crystal shard and rolled it in his servo critically before nodding once. “Very well. You will be paid your standard rate. I will take care of this abomination, and all of it’s tools. See Abacus. He will have your payment, and another lead.”

“In Praxus?” Shadelock demanded as he let go of Prowl’s chevron, allowing the his helm to fall forward again.

‘Monoplex.”

“Mono-. Forget it.”

The cold optics flashed. “What did you say?” The high priests voice was soft, but the threat was there, an undercurrent of icey warning.

“I said forget it.” Shadelock repeated, refusing to back down, one servo resting on his hip as he met the priests optics squarely. “Sure, Praxis is convinced that witch-coded mecha are the spawn of Unicron, but that only goes so far. Catching this one in Polyhex was a trick. You aren’t paying me enough to keep hunting them that far.”

“They are an abomination. They must be destroyed by the will of Primus-”

“Save the slag-speech.” The hunter interrupted. “I do it for the credits, not the good will of your god. Not my problem that you’ve managed to hunt down all the ones close. I don’t care why you want them or what you do with them, but if I’m risking life and limb hunting them outside of Praxus, my rate’s tripled.”

Prowl felt as much heard the hiss of anger that escaped the priest, and it sent a tiny shudder through his frame. There was something deeply malevolent about the sound. Beside him, even Shadelock seemed knocked back a bit, though the hunter stood his ground with continued confidence and bravado.

“If you will not serve the will of Primus, I shall find one that will. Out..” Lifespark ordered.

“Yah, good luck with that. If you change your processor let me know.”” Shadelock quipped as he departed.

[firelord-frowny]

YIKES lmaooo accidentally made myself cryyyyy re-reading this bit of fanfiction i have no recollection of writinggggg omfg.

tbh i feel like this is worth the read even if you dont give a fraction of a flying fuck about fanfic or about assassins creed lmao bc like. its a very expressive and eloquent exploration of how hard it is to see yourself through the eyes of someone who loves you when you fucking hate yourself 🙃

“My body, it… it’s so weak. And soft. I’m not strong enough to fight anyone. I’m not fast enough to run away.” 

“Your mind is just as effective a self-defense tool as any sword or shield.” 

“Is it, though?” 

“You’re here. You’ve survived things that many people wouldn’t have.” 

“That is true. But what I’ve had to give up? The things I’ve had to let happen to me? A man invites himself unto my body. And I don’t want him there. But I can’t stop him. At the end of it, I’m uninjured. But not because I fought him off. I’m uninjured because I negotiated. Because I figured out what he wanted most out of me. And I handed it over. So he wouldn’t have to hurt me in order to steal it. I get robbed all the time. But I don’t lose my most prized items because I’ve learned how to hide them. Or disguise them. Or convince my assailants that my less expensive belongings are worth more than they really are. I never win anything, Alexios. I’m never saved by my intellect. And you should know what I’m talking about, because you are exactly the kind of person who relishes in finding a mark like me. One who is so painfully aware of their own shortcomings that they don’t even try to put up a fight. I survive. I don’t triumph. And if my body were strong, then maybe I could triumph. Someday. In some way.” 

“Not everyone can be… strong, or fast. And not everyone can be brilliant. I think if I had a mind like yours, then… I would probably have become someone I could be a lot more proud of than I am. You think having to use wit instead of force to protect yourself is a weakness, but what I wouldn’t give to know how to end a conflict without resorting to extreme violence. I’m not saying that it doesn’t make sense for you to feel how you do. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that kind of helplessness. I’m just saying that the way you are… the body that you have… there is nothing wrong with you. You are beautiful. And worthy, and powerful in your own right. You, exactly the way you are, have a valuable place in the world. Especially my world. I need you. The version of you that sits before me right now. That’s what I need.” 

“I don’t understand. I can’t do anything for you.” 

He looked at me for a long time. The calculating look. The one he gets when he’s examining a rockface he’s never climbed before. Looking for footholds and handholds. Scoping out the most efficient rout. Or, perhaps, the look he gets when he’s gauging just how fast he needs to run to clear the jump from one plateau to another. Estimating how much strength he’ll need to conserve to reach the top of a mountain. The only difference between Alexios and a mathematician is that Alexios never actually deals with numbers. But he calculates all the same. He solves equations in a glance that a polymath would need an abacus for. Perhaps he can’t tell you in numbers exactly how far away one handhold is from the next, but he’ll launch himself the precise distance, nonetheless. And it’s because of that look in his eyes that I know that the next words he said to me would be thoroughly considered and thoughtful. 

We’ve been this close, and closer, thousands of times by now. But this time felt brand new. Breathtaking. Absolutely ethereal. 

His hands slid to rest on my outer thighs, pressing gently so the contact between my inner thighs and his hips was solid. Then he held me by my waist, traveling again to the small of my back, then up higher, moving slow and reverent. 

Then he told me, “I wish I had your gift for words so I could tell you what this feels like for me.” 

I said, “Just close your eyes and speak.” 

I closed my eyes, too, and then after a moment, I heard him sigh. Then he speaks. Quiet, low, and slow.

“This… is the softest place I’ve ever been in my life. As long as I can remember, everything around me has been… sharp. Serrated. Hard. Rough. I’m smashing metal against metal. Bone against stone. I’m cutting, or being cut. I only touch people to hurt them. The most soothing thing I ever feel is someone else’s blood warming my skin. But now I’m here. Between your thighs. And the way your body ‘gives’ under my touch… you don’t even have to hold me to embrace me. You’re so. Soft. And all I have to do to be surrounded by you is touch you. All I have to do is touch you, and now everything jagged in me gets to know what it feels like to be smoothe. I’ve always been so angry about my life. Resentful. Suffering for no good reason. But now I come home to you, and lay beside you and all I can do is thank the Gods for everything I’ve ever been through that turned me into someone who can keep a soft, precious thing like you safe.”

Oh. 

One day, someday, maybe it will stop surprising me every time Alexios takes my breath away. Maybe I’ll stop being caught off guard every time he finds a new way to tell me he loves me. 

Then he said, “I wish you could appreciate the balance. Appreciate that maybe, in some way, people like you and me are made for each other. Who you are brings such wonderful meaning to who I am and what I’ve been through. I wish who I am could bring similar meaning to you. I wish you could love the things about yourself that are so precious to me.” 

I think I left my body in that moment. Sitting there in front of Alexios. In front of this man made of solid audacity and nerve, smelted and forged. I couldn’t remain in my body if I was to stand a chance at fathoming how the words he just said could be said about me by anyone at all, let alone him. 

I know I left my body because when I heard him finally say, “Why are you shaking?” I didn’t know why he’d ask such a thing. But I looked down at my hands, and yes, they were trembling. And I felt myself slam back into my corporeal form - heavy, and unsteady, like an earthquake. 

Indeed, I think I was shaking because my whole world had just been rattled. My entire self-concept, shifted like a fault line. That there should be any use for the utter desolation I’ve suffered through? That all the things I hate most about myself could bring any meaning at all to another person’s suffering? I was shaking with the exertion of struggling to hold my understanding together. But when I answered him, all I said was, “I’m sorry.” 

He held both of my hands.”You’re sorry? What for? What did I say that made you think you should be sorry?” 

The grief in my throat was so thick, I could barely speak. But I forced the words out: “I’m letting you down.” And right around this moment was when tears overwhelmed my eyelids. And I think I could hear Alexios’s heart shattering.

He gasped a little and then said, “What? By the Gods, no, no. That’s not it at all. Never.” He let go of my hands, but only to slide his arms the rest of the way around me. I felt his lips on my forehead, and then my ear against his chest. He held me just like he did that very first time. It took my breath away then, and it still takes my breath away now. “I don’t ever want you to believe anything other than that I’m so, so proud of you. Proud to be with you. Honored that you’ll even look at me. I didn’t say all those things in criticism. I said them to try to help you see how much you mean to me.” 

That only broke me even more. And racked me with even more guilt. I didn’t want to disappoint him more by apologizing again, so I didn’t. Not out loud, anyway. In my head, I was pleading. Praying. I’m sorry your love is wasted on me. 

Then he looked down at me and said, “...But you can’t, can you? You really… you honestly just can’t.” 

He pulled me in close again, gently swaying, rocking. And I heard him say, “I’m so, so sorry for what’s been taken from you.

[nutwit]

================================

welcome back to

□ Abscoña. ■

an open poll-based rpg

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part one. prev.

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Readmore Context:

Poll 3 Data:

Success (Highest %) :: Imposter Syndrome (29%)

"Sneak in. No one should know I'm here."

Failure (Second-highest %) :: Heretical Relics (22%)

"Consult whatever I have to dowse out a good spot to dig."

Reading:

This happens early one morning. Your flat is in a town on the shore of the ever-grinding clockwork sea, on an inlet called Abacus Bay. Like most mornings on the coast, it's hot and muggy. The seas churn off a spray of metal sparks and rhythmically eject a hot jet of steam released from somewhere deep within the mechanisms of the planet, the combination of which settles over the town as a swelteringly overcast early morning dew.

It has to happen in the morning because of your night owl roommate. This gives you the maximum amount of time to leave, find a way in, sack, pawn some shit, and get home before they can get up. It's not, like... There's no animosity there; you'd just rather no one knows that you're going delving. So. And therefore, you have to get up. So fucking early.

You turn your back to the shore, provisions and tools in your pack, and make your way up the road for a while before darting across it erratically and stumbling and tripping down an exposed metal grate staircase into the mossdrenched wilderness. This is because a major component of your plan was to just wing it, grab one of those freaky fate compasses out of that sack you keep that stuff in, and assume it worked exactly like a normal magnet compass in leading you to a destination, instead of doing fucked up fate things to you, which is what happened.

You twist your ankle. This doesn't do any damage to you. Just think about your actions.

After you get your bearings, you practice a little more restraint and let the gently chaotic gyroscope device nudge you past roots and over pipes for a while. Eventually you reach the elevated bank of a nearby delta where you see a cart driven out onto the sand near a large rocky outcropping in the distance. From your position in the treeline you can see three individuals dressed in some kind of white wicker garment working the ground around the base. One is on their knees, not-quite-digging with some kind of tool. Speaking of which, your little fate gyroscope stops vibrating entirely.

So that's about an hour of sunlight down. You haven't been seen, but you asked to dowse and the dowse said "yeah this is right" about this situation. What do you do?

[dawn-of-worlds]

One Last Day

Corobel starts turn 20 with 8 points: 2 (roll) + 1 (nonhoarding) + 5 (left over)

[Anyway, this is a bit late, but it's certainly my final contribution, and finality lends itself to procrastination.]

Command Avatar (-1): A night-singer “poison child” (one of those born with the holy curse of poisonous skin), living in the south-east of Incarien, resolves that his people’s passive and mystical role in history should resolve itself into something a little more imperial. His name is Left-Eye, of the Eighth Green Choir. It is well that history will ever but rest on the cusp of this unfolding, for it is a course of keen and unenumerable suffering.

[This is a resonance of the Two Stars, of course. Another fact about the Night-Singers: some of them will tell you, and some outsiders may even believe, that they may take any shape they please when they metamorphose: they simply choose the frog, every time, because it is the most perfect of all possible forms.]

Command Avatar (-1): The Heresiarch Juzan, an Oracle, retreats with a small circle of followers to a wind-swept temple-city in the Bone Wastes. Atop the lonely columns of a devastated acropolis, beneath a blue-and-orange evening sky, he founds a circle of ruin-worshippers, devoted to the cycle of history—the immortal crown of the world, that which encloses all things, which winnows the real from mere alternatives. For the endless tragedy which is time’s passage, the Ruined Church will mourn; in the liminal places, where the past and present mingle, they will keep their vigil. Besides the Sky, they venerate Omeara, Laneth, and Tepponilamek.

[Elihu Vedder, The Questioner of the Sphinx, Wikimedia Commons]

Command Avatar (-1): Strange incidents of possession spring up across the world. Eyes glow; voices boom; and the light that pours forth from wounds is certainly not the sun.

[Some False-Fires have started kindling smaller, falser fires in mortals; this is somewhat like possession, and the signs may only burst forth intermittently. The Fire may be transmitted in sublime and transcendent experiences in which a False-Fire is (generally covertly) involved (“you think that was a shooting star you wished on?”). Depending on the nature of the parent fire, the victim may become a violent menace, a furtive recluse, or a cryptic plotter. Over time, the victim’s insides will burn and melt away; eventually, a Pale Imitation of the parent fire will slough off its skin and emerge, flickering.]

Command Avatar (-1): Under the sponsorship of the Court of the Two Skies and the tutelage of Págar astronomers, beside the Violet Chambers and the Red Palace, an Ultimate Observatory is built on the city-palace’s mountain outskirts. Among other functions, it aims to calculate certain details about the Hatestar.

[Anyway, because there’s no point in thinking this up and not writing it down, and it’s been sitting in a notes doc for months: The Secret of the Moon is otherness, unknowability, finitude; it is, by definition, what may not be known. This is what gives human life its discrete and coherent existence, what made the sun finite and birthed the moon; it may not be spoken until the last day because its final expression is the end of the world and the revelation of what lies beyond it—the final decision.]

Command City (-2): In Meridian, the Occidental city ruled by prophecy and taboo, a vast mechanical calendar, the Garden of Years and Days, is constructed. The upper portion, visible to the public, displays unequalled power in predicting eclipse and comet, solstice and equinox; but most is not visible. What, in its hidden depths, do its oracles contemplate? Does it show them the weather to come, the harvests, the plagues? The turning of empires? The fate of the world? And what do they, of all people, need with an abacus?

Command Order (-2): Since I never got around it it, I’m taking the opportunity to specify some things about the Celebrants: tools of which they have the use, lies told about them. These are below the readmore.

0 points remain.

[Oligo did a wonderful thing in starting this game. It’s been a pleasure; I have been consistently amazed by the quality of ideas and expression people have poured into it—the god concepts, the writing, the excellent coastlines. I think we did a good job.]

Their reputation; legends which shadow them

They are calculating, ruthless, and mercurial, rigidly following strange designs, with an affection for aestheticized violence; their political program involves a vision of an ideal society, but also of an ideal history—and that involves destruction as well as creation.

No, really, when they appear in the epics, it’s often with stuff like the following: “It is given to you to separate holy from unholy. Which part of the man was holy, and which unholy? And the Celebrant said, ‘the soul was holy; the body profane. Mark you that I have divided these with absolute precision.’”

If their actions seem to contradict each other—well, some things resolve themselves only from an Ultimate Perspective.

In the beginning, there were 30 days in every month, but two were given away to make the Crown and Veil.

Creation's last day will involve the most beautiful sunset anyone will ever see.

Things they have; things they make

Blessings of wakefulness and watchfulness.

The fruit that the Great Flowering Tree still bears, which remains a potent ecdysteroid.

The great illustrated books of religious passages, parables, and apocrypha on which secular rulers pride themselves; these are called Florilegia.

The rare Suspension of Disbelief, ground snakeskin in chrysalis-fluid and Oracle-tears, which allows the drinker to see through falsehoods. Indulged in to excess—a temptation for those of a morbid and neurotic disposition—it strips away all of so-called reality, allowing sight only of the basic and terrible truth of Being. This is a terrible inconvenience.

The peacocks which wander the lawns around the Arboretum, in bright-skied Azimuth; the chameleons inside.

Its penultimate room, where paradoxes are resolved; it is in its inmost sanctum that the Morning Star and Evening Star became gods. It is open to the sky, but any who fly above it see nothing.

Colors too rich to bear, which draw blood to them in sympathy, which make the chest bloom and the heart leap out.

The power which commands a thousand kinds of sunlight: as it filters through waters and leaves, glints off snow, shines through the pure air of the mountain's peak.

The Eye of the Beholder—wherever it may be.

Things they can do; things that may happen to them

Your image imposes itself permanently upon mirrors.

Your vision breaks mirrors; you must wear a blindfold.

Your reflection is always smiling.

Your face, like Borges’s Zahir, cannot be forgotten. Perhaps it is always visible. Perhaps one who looks upon you will see every face as your face.

You draw all color in your presence into yourself; things pale before you; you may even be the only visible thing in any given room.

You may wield the Glancing Blow, in which a gaze long suppressed bursts forth with terrifying finality.