#equation-based modeling

[procurement-insights]

What can the great North American blackout of 2003 teach us about supply chain complexity, vulnerability, and resiliency

What do Power Grids and Supply Chains have in common?

EDITOR’S NOTE: Here is my comment on a thought-provoking post in which I was tagged on LinkedIn by David Shillingford. Besides drawing parallels between Power Grids and Supply Chains, the post also provides the perfect and practical everyday-life understanding of the difference between agent-based and equation-based approaches to solving complex challenges. There is a lot to “unpack” here, David…

[doomdoomofdoom]

Graph I was shown in 8th grade biology. It's a really simple concept to understand, and anyone who thinks getting rid of local predator animals will be beneficial to wildlife either hasn't thought about it whatsoever or is lying to you.

Prey > Predators: Predators have ample food supply and their population grows until it reaches a tipping point.

Prey < Predators: The diminished prey population can no longer sustain the large predator population. With not enough food to go around, the predator population shrinks, allowing the prey population to recover.

And then it starts all over again. Welcome to the ecosystem.

So one of my tweets kinda blew up. :v

[ingoampt]

Day 6 _ Why the Normal Equation Works Without Gradient Descent

Understanding Linear Regression: The Normal Equation and Matrix Multiplications Explained Understanding Linear Regression: The Normal Equation and Matrix Multiplications Explained Linear regression is a fundamental concept in machine learning and statistics, used to predict a target variable based on one or more input features. While gradient descent is a popular method for finding the…

[entities-of-posts]

heyo, concerned longtime follower here, when running a community that's got a bit about being ominous, it's important to make sure it doesn't go too far and stop being just a bit, ex: what happened with averno. i highly recommend familiarizing yourself with the bite model when moderating any community to make sure you don't go from fun to genuine cult. have a nice day!

This is the funniest ask I’ve ever gotten. I don’t think you know what the BITE model is.

Valued Archives visitors, did you know there is no happiness or peace outside of my blog? If you even glance at @vague-magnus-archives , @which-entity-this-post-serves or @entity-identification, you are a heretic and clearly have not participated enough in our daily scheduled group chanting.

To be quite honest, equating any discussion of art that is a little scary - because the Magnus Archive is frankly quite mild horror - to an Evil Satanic Cult In Forming is very simply fascist rhetoric. I don’t know of any cult leader whose followers routinely harass them with Homestuck based psychological attacks.

[lizardsfromspace]

Jordan Peterson is, despite his status as an Intellectual We Must Take Seriously, several steps dumber than most people on the right, falling for the type of bait even your Facebookiest uncle wouldn't go for. Like the Chinese dick sucking factories, of course, but just take it in for a moment. Conservatives deny climate change is happening; Jordan Peterson denies that the CLIMATE exists at all. Here is a uncut chunk of Jordan Peterson gold:

"Well, that’s ‘cause there’s no such thing as climate. Right? “Climate” and “everything” are the same word, and that’s what bothers me about the climate change types. It’s like, this is something that bothers me about it, technically. It’s like, climate is about everything. Okay. But your models aren’t based on everything. Your models are based on a set number of variables. So that means you’ve reduced the variables, which are everything, to that set. Well how did you decide which set of variables to include in the equation, if it’s about everything? That’s not just a criticism, that’s like, if it’s about everything, your models aren’t right. Because your models do not and cannot model everything."

What the hell is he even saying? Well, he's talking in circles in an officious way, which impresses the type of person who'd listen to Joe Rogan, including Joe Rogan, who he said those words to.

You, too, can talk like you have the wisdom of Jordan Peterson! Just ramble about definitions for a solid minute, and then drop the most blatheringly idiotic take you can think of. Let's give it a go:

"To take the concept of drunk driving at face value as the moralists want us to is to give in to egregious literalism. A car drives, and by definition, a car cannot be drunk, only people can be drunk. They want to conflate cars with people so we believe, incorrectly, that drunk driving is a crime when in fact cars cannot drink. Their operators can, but their operators are engaging in the act of operating a car, not driving it, as to drive a car is to become part of a mechanical processes that humans cannot take part in on account of God granting us a soul, and with it freedom. We need to repeal all convictions for drunk driving until we can end these anti-human word games and correctly go after people for drunk operation."

Literal minutes of fun!

[drnikolatesla]

Tesla’s Wardenclyffe Tower: Built on Sound Math, Undone by Cost and Misunderstanding

Let’s set the record straight—Nikola Tesla’s Wardenclyffe Tower was a high-voltage experimental transmission system grounded in quarter-wave resonance and electrostatic conduction—not Hertzian radiation. And the math behind it? It was solid—just often misunderstood by people applying the wrong physics.

In May 1901, Tesla calculated that to set the Earth into electrical resonance, he needed a quarter-wavelength system with a total conductor length of about 225,000 cm, or 738 feet.

So Tesla’s tower design had to evolve during construction. In a letter dated September 13, 1901, to architect Stanford White, Tesla wrote: “We cannot build that tower as outlined.” He scaled the visible height down to 200 feet. The final structure—based on photographic evidence and Tesla’s own testimony—stood at approximately 187 feet above ground. To meet the required electrical length, Tesla engineered a system that combined spiral coil geometry, an elevated terminal, a 120-foot vertical shaft extending underground, and radial pipes buried outward for approximately 300 feet. This subterranean network, together with the 187-foot tower and carefully tuned inductance, formed a continuous resonant conductor that matched Tesla’s target of 738 feet. He described this strategy in his 1897 patent (No. 593,138) and expanded on it in his 1900 and 1914 patents, showing how to simulate a longer conductor using high-frequency, resonant components. Even with a reduced visible height, Tesla’s system achieved quarter-wave resonance by completing the rest underground—proving that the tower’s electrical length, not its physical height, was what really mattered.

Tesla calculated his voltages to be around 10 million statvolts (roughly 3.3 billion volts in modern SI), so he had to consider corona discharge and dielectric breakdown. That’s why the terminal was designed with large, smooth spherical surfaces—to minimize electric surface density and reduce energy loss. This was no afterthought; it’s a core feature of his 1914 patent and clearly illustrated in his design sketches.

Now, about that ±16 volt swing across the Earth—what was Tesla talking about?

He modeled the Earth as a conductive sphere with a known electrostatic capacity. Using the relation:

ε × P = C × p

Where:

ε is the terminal’s capacitance (estimated at 1,000 cm)

P is the applied voltage (10⁷ statvolts)

C is the Earth’s capacitance, which Tesla estimated at 5.724 × 10⁸ cm (based on the Earth’s size)

p is the resulting voltage swing across the Earth

Plugging in the numbers gives p ≈ 17.5 volts, which Tesla rounded to ±16 volts. That’s a theoretical 32-volt peak-to-peak swing globally—not a trivial claim, but one rooted in his framework.

Modern recalculations, based on updated geophysical models, suggest a smaller swing—closer to ±7 volts—using a revised Earth capacitance of about 7.1 × 10⁸ cm. But that’s not a knock on Tesla’s math. His original ±16V estimate was fully consistent with the cgs system and the best data available in 1901, where the Earth was treated as a uniformly conductive sphere.

The difference between 7 and 16 volts isn’t about wrong numbers—it’s about evolving assumptions. Tesla wrote the equation. Others just adjusted the inputs. His premise—that the Earth could be set into controlled electrical resonance—still stands. Even if the voltage swing changes. The vision didn’t.

Wouldn't that ±16V swing affect nature or people? Not directly. It wasn’t a shock or discharge—it was a global oscillation in Earth’s electric potential, spread evenly across vast distances. The voltage gradient would be tiny at any given point—far less than what’s generated by everyday static electricity. Unless something was specifically tuned to resonate with Tesla’s system, the swing had no noticeable effect on people, animals, or the environment. It was a theoretical signature of resonance, not a hazard. While some early experiments in Colorado Springs did produce disruptive effects—like sparks from metal objects or spooked horses—those involved untuned, high-voltage discharges during Tesla’s exploratory phase. Wardenclyffe, by contrast, was a refined and carefully grounded system, engineered specifically to minimize leakage, discharge, and unintended effects.

And Tesla wasn’t trying to blast raw power through the ground. He described the system as one that would “ring the Earth like a bell,” using sharp, high-voltage impulses at a resonant frequency to create standing waves. As he put it:

“The secondary circuit increases the amplitude only... the actual power is only that supplied by the primary.” —Tesla, Oct. 15, 1901

Receivers, tuned to the same frequency, could tap into the Earth’s oscillating potential—not by intercepting radiated energy, but by coupling to the Earth’s own motion. That ±16V swing wasn’t a bug—it was the signature of resonance. Tesla’s transmitter generated it by pumping high-frequency, high-voltage impulses into the Earth, causing the surface potential to oscillate globally. That swing wasn’t the energy itself—it acted like a resonant “carrier.” Once the Earth was ringing at the right frequency, Tesla could send sharp impulses through it almost instantly, and tuned receivers could extract energy.

So—was it feasible?

According to Tesla’s own patents and 1916 legal testimony, yes. He accounted for insulation, voltage gradients, tuning, and corona losses. His design didn’t rely on brute force, but on resonant rise and impulse excitation. Tesla even addressed concerns over losses in the Earth—his system treated the planet not as a passive resistor but as an active component of the circuit, capable of sustaining standing waves.

Wardenclyffe wasn’t a failure of science. It was a casualty of cost, politics, and misunderstanding. Tesla’s system wasn’t just about wireless power—it was about turning the entire planet into a resonant electrical system. His use of electrostatics, high-frequency resonance, and spherical terminals was decades ahead of its time—and still worth studying today.

“The present is theirs; the future, for which I really worked, is mine.” —Nikola Tesla

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

I'm asking so many questions but finals are coming up and I'm terrified- can I get a rundown on who Omega is???

Who is Omega?

Welcome to the very sad story of Omega. Okay, he's tried to destroy the Universe a few times, but we at GIL are big fans of the deeply misunderstood Omega.

👶 From Peylix to Problematic Hero

Peylix was a Shobogan, born on ancient Gallifrey—still dominated by mysticism, prophecy, and a matriarchal theocracy ruled by soothsayer-queens known as the Pythias. He spent his early life attending school on time, sharpening pencils, and learning absolutely everything he could about stellar engineering and quantum theory. He was especially interested in time travel.

At one point in his school days, he wrote an enthusiastic paper on time travel theory based on Genefrenian models. For this paper, he earned the lowest academic mark in Gallifreyan history: Omega. He kept the name.

As Omega grew, he befriended Rassilon and became part of the Neo-Technologist movement—those who sought to depose the Pythia and replace her priesthood with science and rationality. Arguably, Omega was never particularly interested in politics. But Rassilon and the Neo-Technologists' rise offered him one thing: more space to do his science.

While Omega was busy in the labs doing science and being oblivious to brewing civil war, on a dark night in the Capitol, the Neo-Technologists stormed the Temple and violently overthrew the Pythian regime. Blood ran in the streets. The Pythia cursed Gallifrey with sterility and hurled herself into a prophetic abyss.

Omega was, notably, the only person who looked at the aftermath and said, 'Hmm. I don't think I like how violent this is.'

Still, the revolution had happened. With Rassilon and a third figure known only as the Other, Omega formed the new ruling Triumvirate. But make no mistake—he didn't want power. He just wanted to finish his equations.

🖐️ The Hand of Omega

While Rassilon was busy farting around with politics and naming things after himself, Omega was designing the Hand of Omega—a stellar manipulator capable of collapsing stars into controlled singularities. This was Gallifrey's golden ticket: the power source needed to make time travel a reality.

But during a test of the Hand, something went catastrophically wrong (whether by accident or subterfuge). The star collapsed into a black hole, and Omega vanished, presumed dead.

🕳️ The Anti-Matter Exile

Shocker! Omega wasn't dead. He had fallen into a universe of pure antimatter. There, he made two chilling discoveries:

His physical body no longer existed.

No one was coming to help.

Trapped in a realm of unreality, with no mass, no matter, and no tea, Omega's consciousness endured. But so did his bitterness. Over time, isolation twisted into rage. Gallifrey had abandoned him, stolen his legacy, and left him to decay.

And, well... be fair. That is what happened.

⚔️ Showdowns with the Doctor

📍 First Contact (…Sort Of)

Millennia later, Omega attempted to break back into the real universe, draining Time Lord energy to fuel his return. The Time Lords responded with their best emergency measure: summoning three incarnations of the Doctor and giving them the vague instruction 'please fix this'.

The Doctors discovered Omega's body no longer existed. The Doctor (specifically, the Second) accidentally left behind a recorder—a physical object—which destabilised Omega's anti-matter realm and collapsed it around him.

He was not amused, but he did survive.

📍 Return Visit

Still very much not dead, Omega later hacked into the Matrix with the help of the Toymaker (or rather, someone with the same face), hijacked the Doctor's biodata, and built himself a new body using said biodata as a template. He materialised briefly on Earth, looking suspiciously Doctor-like.

Unfortunately, matter-based flesh doesn't sit well with anti-matter souls, and somehow, the genius Omega hadn't caught onto that idea yet. His body decayed rapidly, and the Doctor used an anti-matter converter to fling him back into the void. Again.

Since then, Omega has attempted multiple methods to return from the antimatter universe, but he has never succeeded.

➕Though Also...

According to some accounts, after his original encounters with Omega, the Sixth Doctor learned that there was evidence suggesting Omega might be his grandpappy. Whether or not that's true is anyone's guess, though the Doctor was notably a bit of an Omega fan in his youth.

💕We Love Omega!

Yes, he's tried to destroy Earth/the Universe/a few timelines. But let's recap:

He invented the technology that powers Gallifrey.

He enabled time travel.

He was abandoned by his society.

And then he got blamed for being upset about it.

Omega is Gallifrey's greatest genius, and its greatest loss. He is also the universe's most powerful introvert, and possibly the single most compelling argument for robust anti-matter mental health services.

We love Omega. We can't wait to see what he does next.

Related:

📺|🏺The Long and Complicated History of the Time Lords: Part III – The Rise of the Time Lords

📺|🏺The Long and Complicated History of the Time Lords: Part IV – The Birth of the Time Lords

💬|👤👑Why is Rassilon everywhere?: Who Rassilon is and why you should care.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[screamingfromuz]

Listen. LISTEN, the longer I spend in the academic world, I am more convinced that describing Judaism and Jews as a religion/ethnic grope/ethnoreligion is unhelpful outside of Academic circles.

The best way to explain Judaism is using the tribe model. A lot of times Judaism is a community first and a religion second, i.e., your level of religiousness is rarely a thing that alienate you from the community.

Think of other tribes, like the Sámi, Aboriginal Australians, Māori, Yurok, Inuit ect. Each have their own unique religion, but we do not think of them as a religious group, because the tribal identity is more important, and the religion is considered part of the culture, not the opposite.

IMORTANT SIDENOTE: I am aware that many of those tribes, and other tribes have a big chunk of Christians in them, usually more Christians than those who follow the indigenous religion of the tribe. BUT for the sake of discussion, I am equating Judaism to the section that does follow the indigenous religion of the tribe.

So, despite the fact that the religious structures of Judaism is very integral to Judaism, it is partly because of the community based focus of Judaism. The most basic example is the Minyan, the fact that prayer is preferred to be done in a group. Or the fact that the Sader is meant to be a celebrated in a group. and so on.

SO, ethnoreligion is a great academic term, but for outside that world? A tribe is a much better term to explain Judaism.

[pikapeppa]

Tiefling anatomy and headcanons

Someone else has probably done this already and in more detail, but ALAS, I could not find anything to fit my very specific smut-related needs. So I went ahead and labelled some diagrams.

Our handsome model for this post is Dammon! 🥰 SADLY, I don't know the source of the photos I used (they were sent to me by a friend and a Goog search did not help), so if anyone knows who I can credit the source images to, please let me know!

Terms and headcanons are mine. If they're well-established elsewhere/used by others, it's pure coincidence.

Within-image text will follow below, for those using screenreaders/if the font is too small (SORRY, I was in a rush). I also put a cut before the third image, since it's got Dammon's bum in it. 🥰

The first image depicts sternal ridges ("sternum" meaning "breastbone") and costal ridges ("costal" meaning "relating to the ribs"). I headcanon that the sharp-looking, pointed parts of these ridges are not actually sharp or hard, but rather, cartilage covered in skin (like ears!).

The second image depicts spinal ridges (prominences on the vertebrae) and wingtips, tiny little hooks of cartilage on the shoulder blades. I headcanon that some tieflings see larger wingtips as being good luck, or even a sign that you'll be able to fly in your next life.

The third image shows anatomy of the tail, which is grossly divided into the upper tail and the lower tail. The upper tail, also called the tail base or tail root, is where the tail attaches to the body, just above the bum. I headcanon that this area of the tail is a "private area", off-limits for being touched except by lovers or romantic partners. The lower tail, including the tip of the tail, is okay to be touched by friends and close family. Tieflings partners might link their lower tails together in an affectionate gesture, like holding hands. Siblings and friends might slap or pull each other's lower tails when they're playfighting (we're looking at you, Cal and Lia and Rolan). The tail tip might also be called a "tail-barb", depending on dialect differences.

Some other random tiefling-body headcanons, some of which are NSFW (be warned):

They have nails: not claws, not talons, but nails. 'Claws' and 'talons' are considered offensive terms, like equating tieflings to animals.

Touching a tiefling's horns is off-limits except for very close friends/family/partners. It's not necessarily romantic to touch or caress a tiefling's horns, but it often is, not unlike stroking someone's hair.

Tiefling tails are partially prehensile. Thus, they can use them during sex. 😏

Contrary to popular belief, tieflings are adept at giving and receiving finger penetration (i.e. finger-fucking SORRY TO BE CRUDE) with long nails, and don't need to cut them for sex reasons. They know their bodies, and they can easily learn how to finger-fuck without hurting anyone.

Tiefling tails can broadcast emotions, like cats' tails (though some tiefs may not like being compared to animals -- see above). I've seen at least two fantastic comics about this, here and here (MY FAVOURITE).

Thank you for reading if you came this far! And feel free to use these headcanons in fic writing, if you like, with a nod to yours truly if you're feeling kindly 🥰

If you'd like to read some tieflings fics where these headcanons come into play, you can check out my Karlach/Dammon fic here, and my Rolan/f!Tav fic here. Both are rated E for smut.

-- love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika! xoxo

[procurement-insights]

Is this the bridge between human agent and AI agents?

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

the arms of the ocean

for @andorerso's Fix-it Week, for the prompt stolen moments/traditions

After the mess of the past twenty hours, finding the shimmering purple lake feels like a little bit of a miracle. Or, to a less cynical being, perhaps a reward for all the shit they’ve been through – again – in this endless, painful, stupid fight that has clawed into their bones all their lives, and that she often things will be the last thing left of her when all else is gone.

Regardless, Jyn thanks the Force for the heavenly sight, and the perimeter check she makes before ripping off her sweaty, stained clothes would have got her yelled at for roughly a standard hour back when.

It doesn’t matter – right now, she’ll gladly fight whatever wants to stop her from sinking her battered, reeking body into the crystal-clear water. (And, on a more practical level, she is not really concerned. She is no longer alone, and Cassian, ever careful, hypervigilant, boring Kath-mutt of a spy is hanging back as she throws herself into the blessedly cool waters of the lake. With him watching her back, she can afford to be a little foolish sometimes.)

The water is divine after the heat of the fumes and the explosions and the overheating speeder barrelling through slate-grey sands, like grit paper on every sliver of exposed skin. She feels raw, all over, and her shoulder throbs where the trooper’s baton hit… But the lake’s embrace is gentle and soothing, the cold water lapping ever-so-faintly at her as she dives to the bottom.

And, true enough, when she comes up for air, feet digging into the fine sand below and dirt dripping from her hair into her eyes, Cassian is standing at the edge of the water, fully dressed and blaster in hand, shaking his head at her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get naked this fast.”

[Read on Ao3]

She grins at him and tips her head back to rinse some of the grime out of her hair as best she can. “Sure you have.”

She hears him laugh, muffled by the water. “True. I meant I haven’t got a chance to, ah… admire the speed. From a distance.”

Jyn rolls her eyes at the pearly white sky, and dips her head underwater again, smoothing her tangled hair back as she resurfaces. She hadn’t really thought past the feeling of cool water on her skin and the opportunity to wash the slime and grit of the factory explosion out of her hair… but they do have at least five standard hours to kill before Bodhi, Chirrut and Kay will be at the rendezvous point. And, barren and lonely as it is, this is a very nice place. And there isn’t a sentient in miles and miles out here. After months on base… well, it would be downright criminal to squander this opportunity, wouldn’t it?

“You could admire up close,” she says, smiling up at her partner and pushing a little further out again. “The water’s nice.”

He smiles. “I’m good.”

“You’re every bit as disgusting as I am,” she scoffs. “Bodhi might not take you on board like this, and I wouldn’t blame him.”

He shrugs. “Someone should be on guard. This model isn’t water safe,” he says, waving the blaster in his hand.

“We lost them,” she says, with as much patience as she can muster. “We doubled back four times, Cassian.”

Instead of relaxing, he just tenses up a little more – not watching the shoreline as she thought, actually, but the water of the lake.

 “We don’t know what might be living in there. You should come out.”

She sighs, and forces herself not to roll her eyes at him again. No, this one’s on her, really. She had to pick the jumpiest son of a ruskakk she could find. He is a spy, it’s not like she didn’t know this about him.

“Look around,” she says, gesturing at the empty, silvery shores and cragged obsidian rocks lining the lakeside. “What would live here? What would it eat?”

He opens his mouth to argue, and she can picture it already – oh, but there’s a jungle nearer the equator, Jyn, things do live here, you’re the one always telling me to remember that the –

“Jyn, if something pulls you in there, I will be very little help,” he says quietly, eyes still skimming the glimmering surface of the water.

Jyn feels her thoughts grind to a painful halt, not unlike the lumbering troop carriers she used to wrench durasteel rods into when she was thirteen. The realisation drops in quietly, slowly, and then one after another the gears catch and whine, misalign, and –

“You’re telling me you can‘t swim?” she asks, and Cassian just shrugs, eyes never leaving the water.

“Where was I going to learn it?” he answers lightly. “On Fest, most water was frozen solid.”

Jyn swallows at something – a memory, a burning in her lungs, a horrible sound in her ears, a weight, wriggling and heavy, pulling…

She tamps it down, in tried-and-true fashion; cauterises it with searing, white-hot rage. It’s not difficult to summon. Those banthafuckers –

“And it’s not like you’ve been a soldier for like twenty years since then!” she snarls. “Doesn’t the goddamn Alliance teach their people to swim? Didn’t the Seps?”

Another shrug. “I guess they were giving the underwater espionage to other people,” he says, and puts a sardonic little smile on his face, but his eyes still watch the gentle patterns of the wind on the lake’s surface, and she has looked at him long enough now to see that the smile is off – not very, but enough.

She does wade back to shore, just so he’ll start actually listening to her. The tension melts out of his shoulders immediately, and he reaches down and holds out her jacket to her.

The wind is a shock on her bare, wet skin, but she is too angry to feel it.

“Who was your drill instructor?”

“Sargeant Karle,” he says patiently, still holding out the worn, coarseweave work jacket, though something crinkles around his eyes in concern when he finally clocks her mood. “But you can’t yell at her now, she’s been dead for a long time.”

Jyn huffs. “Did she drown?”

“No. Faulty grenade, I think.” He sighs. “I’m not sure. I was off world when it happened.”

Something about his tone soothes her a little – hell, how many times had a grenade, a blaster bolt, even the local fauna stopped one of her lessons short? How often had Saw dropped her into some mess, only to be irritated and confused when she had to hack her way out because he’d failed to impart some crucial information, had assumed she would know?

(Maybe he’d lied about it, too. It got so tiring, so embarrassing, being the kid of the group. She remembers that. She remembers, after the fiftieth time of piping up to say “I don’t know how to do that”, after the eightieth time of someone rolling their eyes and rattling off some condescending instructions – just nodding when someone asked if she knew, and praying she’d just figure it out in the moment… though she can about imagine how that well that would go when the thing you were lying about was knowing how to keep your head above water.)

She holds the jacket, runs her thumb over the coarse material, considering.

“Jyn,” Cassian says, very softly, and she drops the jacket on the sand.

She will not accept this. She will not –

“Get in the water, Cassian.”

The concern in his dark eyes makes room for something somewhere between bemusement and alarm. “Jyn –“

She shakes her head, steps up to him and slowly curls her hand around his over the blaster. He wouldn’t hurt her – well, he’d never want to. But they are what they are, and she’s not about to take chances while she’s actively triggering his fight or flight response.

A third emotions enters the confused mix on his face, battling the two much more serious ones. Jyn, too, suddenly becomes a little more aware of the fact that she is having this conversation very naked.

She makes use of his distraction by taking the blaster, and jutting her chin up defiantly. Naked or not, she could knock him on his ass whenever she wants. She wouldn’t, unless she had to. But she could.

“A blaster bolt to the head, or your karking little pill, that’s one thing,” she says quietly. “But you’re not drowning.”

The memory rears its ugly head again, for the span of a breath, but she swats it down. She has a task now. She can ignore it.

His eyes flicker, a motion so small she only catches it because she spends an inordinate amount of time looking at this man (and still, Force, not nearly enough yet, not by a long stretch). The anxiety still sits in his eyes, but something softens. She’s not sure what did it – usually, she has to hammer down the fact that she is concerned for him for hours until anything sticks. She probably gave something away. (Kriffing spies.)

“Get in the water,” she repeats, and he sighs, checks his commlink, sighs again. His eyes are still soft on hers, but the tension in his shoulders is back. She doesn’t need to clock this to know what he thinks of this suggestion – but he still watches her, and whatever he’s seeing seems to mean something.

“Alright.”

She tries to let her expression soften a little, too, but doesn’t feel very convincing. She attempts a smile. “Could be fun.”

He scoffs, steadying himself on her as he steps out of the uniform pants. “Don’t expect me to get too excited while I’m fighting a body of water for my life.”

She does smile, now. “One day, Cassian,” she mutters, pulling the grimy shirt over his head, “you’re going to loosen up. And I’ll be there to see it.” She steps in closer and kisses him, slowly, languidly. For once, not listening for the hiss of a door, the ping of a comm, the trampling of plastoid boots or the blaring of klaxons...

He doesn’t relax, but he does tug her closer, and the reflexive, practised movement of it makes her blood boil a little more. She won’t lose this man. Not yet. She is so far from having her fill of stolen moments like this –

“I would not mind doing this instead,” he murmurs against her lips, leaning his head against hers. She can tell he’s not putting in real effort to try and convince her, but shavit, she almost lets it work anyway.

Almost, though, because that memory is still simmering just under her skin and she will be damned if she ever hears anyone make that noise again. And not him, not for all the galaxy.

So she breaks away, not far, just far enough to look up at him with a teasing grin. “Try hard enough, and maybe there’ll be something in it for you.”

That brings a spark to his eyes, despite the nerves. It never stops being funny to her, how much this ever-patient kung loves a challenge, underneath it all. “Deal.”

She reaches for his hand, and pulls him towards the water. As soon as the water laps at their feet, she can feel the tension returning to his movements – not the limp, she barely even remembers how he walked before. But she can tell how much it takes him to keep following.

“We’re not going in far,” she says, as matter-of-factly as she can. “You can just stand up, and you’ll be fine.” She turns back to him, finds him staring out to the middle of the lake in apprehension again, and runs her hand through his hair until he looks at her.

“Are you with me?”

He exhales, slowly. “Yes.”

“Good,” she says softly, and pulls him further in, until the clear water is up to her shoulders.

“Okay. Just bend your knees and put your head underwater.”

He looks at her like she’s gone crazy, and she sighs.

“Hey. It’ll get all this druk out of your hair, and you can stand up whenever you want.”

He glowers at her for another second, but then goes under obediently – a little too fast, which tells her he had to force himself, and he’s breathing a little too hard when he comes up again.

She attempts a smile, even though no part of her feels like smiling. She doesn’t know what she hates more, how uncomfortable she’s making him or how obviously he, too, has some kind of very real experience with the feeling of drowning.

“Go again. Maybe actually wash your head this time,” is all she says, because she knows he doesn’t want pity, and she’s shit at it, anyway.

(When they get back, she will get Draven to sign off on mandatory swimming lessons, and if it’s the last thing she does. Perhaps the princess, or Mothma. She’d like to see them look down on her partisan training then, when she asks how many of their soldiers would survive the first ten minutes of being dropped onto Manaan.)

They repeat this for a while, until he lets her dive down with him and run her hands through his dirt-crusted hair, until his breathing is even when he comes back up.

“Good?” she asks, and he makes a motion somewhere between a nod and a shrug, which she declares good enough, because she’s getting cold. At this point it dawns on her that she doesn’t really remember being taught how to swim – at least not in what order she learned anything. But she figures she might get him more comfortable just standing in the water for a while, and teaches him the arm movement first. Breaststroke to start with, the way she learned – it’s not ideal, in fact with his limp it might tire him out a lot, but he needs to unlearn his fear before he’ll swim in any way that forces his head underwater.

The movement isn’t complicated, of course, so after a minute, he starts looking at her with his brows raised, as if to say I don’t think this is all it takes. He still looks at the lake like it wants to eat him, though.

Jyn sighs. “Look, if you keep your body tense enough, the water will keep you on the surface, okay?”

“That wasn’t my experience,” he says testily, in a tone that makes him sound far younger than he is – possibly as young as he was whenever he formed that memory.

“You go where your feet point, basically,” Jyn replies. “If your feet and your ass are close enough to the surface, the rest of you will be, too. Here,” she places her hands on his shoulders and lets her feet drift up behind her. “See? Doesn’t take that much.”

He eyes her like he’s not convinced she’s not doing some kind of magic to trick him. She brings her feet back down and places his hands on her shoulders. “Your turn.”

“I –“

“You said you trust me.”

Cassian sighs. “I do, but –“

“No but. I’ve got you,” she says flatly, placing her hands over his. “Just trust me.”

His hands clamp over her shoulder so hard she almost winces, but he does as he’s told, and eventually stays afloat without fidgeting, even though he’s still looking at her as if she was asking him to swallow a live vespid.

“Okay. You were watching me earlier. Do you remember how I moved my legs?”

He tries to set his feet down again, but she stops him. He glares at her.

“I was watching. Not strictly… to learn, though.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “You… pull your knees towards you, then move your feet apart and have them meet again as you stretch your legs. Like you’re making a circle with your feet.”

“What?”

Jyn sighs. “You ever see a frog swim?”

“A what?”

“Never mind,” she mutters. She’s a very good swimmer. She’s a good instructor, too – hell, several councilmembers signed off on that fact. This shouldn’t be this complicated.

He sets his feet down and releases her shoulders with a patient smile that seems less fake than his previous ones. His thumb traces a gentle line along her arm as he pulls away. “Can you show me?”

“Yeah,” she mutters, regaining some resolve. “You should look underwater, though. You’ll see better.” And it’ll freak you out less if you have a task. Wins all around.

She swims a few laps around him, and is pleased she knows him well enough to tell when he’s seen enough and getting distracted again. Force, she hopes he gets the hang of this quickly, so they can make some less depressing use of their precious few hours out time… well, regardless, really, they’ll have to get out of the water eventually. It wouldn’t do to get hypothermia (and away from Hoth, too, that’d just be kriffing embarrassing). They’ll need to find some way to get warm... She can think of a few.

She has him hang on to her shoulders for a while, practicing the movements, until he succeeds in his first task (pushing her over). A little too well, if anything – she miscalculated. Her prosthetic doesn’t have as much traction on the sand as her good leg, and when he pushes her backwards, she actually goes under, cold water going up her nose, and, what’s worse, fully dropping out from under Cassian. Which is fine all things considered, they’re in shallow water and he’s already on his feet when she comes up again, but she feels a raw flash of panic anyway, and he looks about three shades paler than he did a few seconds ago.

“Are you okay?” he asks very quietly, and he sounds out of breath.

“I’m fine. Good job,” she mutters, probably just as unconvincingly nonchalant.

His face twists into something she doesn’t like, guilty and vulnerable. She feels that, too, and a sting of irritation – they teach each other things all the time. It isn’t usually this awkward… well, it was sometimes, at the start. Especially for the vulnerable things, like having to explain when and how she needs to be told things or needs reassurance, when and how to touch her and when to stay the fuck away from her and how to tell the difference (hell if she knows, most of time). She doesn’t like being suddenly reminded that even when she has never been this comfortable around another person all her life, it doesn’t mean that they get to be done with the painful, awkward learning of it all.

Chirrut would probably make some cheesy point of there being joy in that, in the learning always continuing.

She thinks that’s bantha shit, right now. She loves learning from Cassian, and teaching him… teaching him how to use a weapon he’s never held before, or play a game he’s never played before. Not… this.

She tugs him close, in lieu of anything good or helpful to say; slowly running her hands over the tight muscles in his shoulders and the line of jagged scars along his spine until his breathing slows against her.

“Sorry I dropped you,” she mutters into his ear, and feels him tug her closer in response. “It won’t happen again.”

“I know,” he whispers, fingers digging into her tousled, wet hair, and they stand like this for a few breaths longer, alone in the cool, dark, gently moving water. Pressed together like two stars in the same orbit, slowly, slowly fusing into one brighter sun.

.

She does not let him leave the water before he’s got the hang of it enough to swim out to where his feet can no longer touch the ground, and from there back to shore, and back again three more times. In the end, she needs to be coaxed into stopping with the promised incentives, and only relents after promising (threatening) to make him continue the lesson as soon as they get near an unfrozen body of water again.

(Unsurprisingly, nothing kills the mood faster than being naked on fine sand – it would, Jyn imagines, even if that wasn’t what she felt under her feet in most of her nightmares – so they do end up in the shallow water again. She thinks to herself, afterwards, staring up into the featureless, pearly sky, this might have gone further in endearing Cassian to the element than the ninety-or-so minutes they spent on the impromptu swimming lesson. It’s a real shame this method will probably not come in as useful the next time, since most bodies of water won’t do her the favour of being both beautifully clean and entirely deserted.)

“Who taught you to swim?” Cassian asks quietly, combing his fingers through her tousled hair.

“Papa. At the IoCE sports centre, they had this enormous pool,” she replies, turning over to tuck into his side so she can look at him. “The size of the Yavin landing pad, I swear.”

He smiles distantly. “I bet the water was warmer at the Imperial Corps of Engineers’s sports centre.”

“Yeah. But there were significantly less imps and ISB creeps watching us here.”

Cassian snorts. “Thank the Force for that.”

“Mmh.” She grins, tracing her fingers over his arm. “It’s fun, once you get the hang of it, you know. Swimming. It’s… nice. Someone said once, it’s the closest a flightless species gets to flying.”

He crinkles his nose. “I think flying is the closest I get to flying.”

“No, like… flying without a ship, you drydak.”

He grins and rolls to his side, facing her. “Well, maybe… if this is how these lessons go… I might see the vision eventually.”

“Yeah?”

The teasing melts out of his eyes, slowly. “I’m glad you’re here to teach me, Jyn.”

She may be getting lessons in vulnerability these days, but she thinks she’ll need a million more before she’ll know a sensible reply to things like this. But he tried, for her, so she makes an attempt, a feeble one – “Yeah. Me too.” – and leans in to kiss him again, before she thinks of drowning again. She’ll let him steal her air, on and on, until the memory has faded once more.

.

(They hike to their rendezvous point hand in hand, silent and exhausted, and there is a stillness in her head that she has not felt in… Force, maybe ever. For an hour, they wait there in the twilight, shoulder to shoulder, talking only in the press of fingers, in the passing of a canteen, in following the other’s gaze to the horizon. Making the most of their stolen time.)

[Leave a comment on Ao3!]

[wonders-of-the-cosmos]

Cosmic Paradigm Shift: New Research Doubles Universe’s Age to 26.7 Billion Years

A new study proposes that the universe may be 26.7 billion years old, challenging the widely accepted estimate of 13.7 billion years based on the Lambda-CDM concordance model.

Our universe could be twice as old as current estimates, according to a new study that challenges the dominant cosmological model and sheds new light on the so-called “impossible early galaxy problem.

For years, astronomers and physicists have calculated the age of our universe by measuring the time elapsed since the Big Bang and by studying the oldest stars based on the redshift of light coming from distant galaxies. In 2021, thanks to new techniques and advances in technology, the age of our universe was thus estimated at 13.797 billion years using the Lambda-CDM concordance model.

However, many scientists have been puzzled by the existence of stars like the Methuselah that appear to be older than the estimated age of our universe and by the discovery of early galaxies in an advanced state of evolution made possible by the James Webb Space Telescope. These galaxies, existing a mere 300 million years or so after the Big Bang, appear to have a level of maturity and mass typically associated with billions of years of cosmic evolution. Furthermore, they’re surprisingly small in size, adding another layer of mystery to the equation.

Some theories like Zwicky's ''tired light'' theory, and Paul Dirac's ''coupling constants'' may be one of the possible explanations and putting the ''cosmological constant'' under possible revision.

source

[so-true-overdue]

The Grand Illusion of Effective Altruism

In the grand theater of moral philosophy, where the spotlight often shines on the most ostentatious of ethical posturing, effective altruism stands as a paragon of misguided benevolence. Cloaked in the guise of utilitarian virtue, it is a doctrine that purports to save the world with the precision of a mathematical equation, yet often stumbles over its own self-serving, authoritarian, and overly simplistic ideals.

The Self-Serving Savior Complex

At its core, effective altruism is a movement that claims to maximize the good one can do with their resources. However, beneath this veneer of altruistic ambition lies a self-serving savior complex. Proponents often indulge in a form of moral grandstanding, where the act of giving is less about the recipient and more about the giver’s self-image. The movement’s adherents are frequently found basking in the glow of their own perceived magnanimity, as if their philanthropic endeavors were a ticket to moral superiority.

Authoritarian Overtones

Effective altruism, with its rigid adherence to utilitarian calculus, often veers into authoritarian territory. It prescribes a one-size-fits-all approach to philanthropy, dictating which causes are worthy of attention based on a narrow set of criteria. This dogmatic rigidity stifles the diversity of thought and action that is essential for addressing the multifaceted challenges of our world. By elevating certain causes above others, it inadvertently marginalizes those who do not fit neatly into its algorithmic framework.

The Perils of Oversimplification

The movement’s penchant for oversimplification is perhaps its most glaring flaw. In its quest to quantify the impact of charitable actions, effective altruism reduces complex social issues to mere numbers on a spreadsheet. This reductionist approach fails to account for the nuanced realities of human suffering and the intricate web of factors that contribute to it. By focusing solely on measurable outcomes, it overlooks the intangible, yet equally vital, aspects of human well-being.

A Call for Holistic Altruism

In contrast to the narrow confines of effective altruism, a more holistic approach to philanthropy recognizes the importance of empathy, cultural sensitivity, and local knowledge. It values the voices of those it seeks to help and prioritizes their agency in the decision-making process. This alternative model of altruism embraces the complexity of human experience and acknowledges that true change often requires more than just financial investment.

Conclusion: Beyond the Illusion

In conclusion, while effective altruism may present itself as the panacea for global suffering, it is, in reality, a mirage of moral rectitude. Its self-serving nature, authoritarian tendencies, and simplistic worldview render it ill-equipped to address the intricate challenges of our time. Instead, we must strive for a more inclusive and empathetic form of altruism—one that transcends the limitations of mere effectiveness and embraces the full spectrum of human dignity.

[breelandwalker]

I recently saw a popular post that was talking to ex-Christian converts to Paganism about how the gods have prevailing indubitable and unquestionable authority and that Pagans need to realise that (this capital P despite there being no single pagan religion, but a thousand diverse ones). I made my long retort to that through a reblog, but I still think there is an underlying problem with this idea. If you believe gods have "authority" and will punish you and you tell others to not anger the gods due to this — you are encouraging religious fascism.

If you encourage religious fascism and "authority of the divine" — you are encouraging the image of a god who is basically the State. Religious fascism leads to imperialism, colonialism, to oppression, to control and conquest, to exploitation.

How do I communicate the idea of religious fascism to people, how do I discourage it when so many think the gods are mighty and just and should not be questioned? When this misunderstanding prevails among deity worshippers because they cannot see their gods in any other way but a cop?

I ask you this because Paganism and Witchcraft are so interconnected with each other. A lot of people who discovered witchcraft also do deity work and follow pagan practices of some kind. Thank you for your time!

You realize you came to the inbox of a secular witch who's pagan on the side to ask this, right? But all right, I'll play ball.

First off, where in the blithering heck are you getting "religious fascism" from the idea that deities have divine power and authority? That's...kind of what makes them deities?

Don't Anger The Gods Or They'll Ruin Your Life is kind of a default stance in at least a dozen monotheistic AND polytheistic cultures I could name. The more casual treatment of deities in some sects of modern paganism is very different from historical attitudes toward deities. Plenty of people still adhere to the Gods Should Not Be Fucked With way of thinking and that is perfectly valid.

Assigning blame to The Powers That Be for mortal imperialism, colonialism, and so forth does not accomplish what you think it does. Equating a deity with The State implies that the deity approves of and encourages those attitudes, rather than the truth of the matter, which is that human hubris and bigotry will take any excuse to claim they're in the right when a ruling power seeks to oppress others. So by saying it's the fault of the gods, you're playing right into that same system. "Oh it's not us HUMANS that want to conquer and enslave, it's a divine mandate!"

If you want to question the deities you work with or argue with them or tell them to come back with a warrant, that's your business. I would advise against trying to tell others that they're only viewing their deities as almighty because they can't get past an authority figure model based in earthly systems. Claiming that acknowledging deities as divine authorities is a "cop" mentality is one helluva reach and it really sounds like you're trying to project / force your opinions on others.

While it IS important to examine our own thinking and motivations when we think that we're receiving divine instructions or mandates or inspiration, it's equally important to remember that the Christian concept of sin and the long-standing attitude of It Is Not Smart To Disrespect Deities are two different things. And it sounds like you're still working through some issues of your own when it comes to the divine.

So....good luck with that.

[follow-up-news]

The ubiquitous food delivery app DoorDash will pay almost $17 million to settle claims that it unfairly used customer tips to subsidize the wages of its delivery workers in New York, rather than letting drivers keep the tips on top of their guaranteed pay, Attorney General Letitia James said Monday. James said DoorDash used the wage model between May 2017 and September 2019. The company would guarantee workers a base payment for each delivery but was factoring tips into that equation, only paying workers for whatever the tips didn’t cover, according to the attorney general. DoorDash also did not make it clear to customers that their tips were being used to offset worker wages, said James, a Democrat.

[ricksdirtyarchive]

Professor Sanchez P.1 📖

MULTIPART - MASTER LIST

You were sitting in class, waiting for the professor to come in. You were an Astrophysics major, hoping to work at NASA. You were a senior.

You looked up to the front of the lecture hall to see a blue haired guy with a lab coat writing on the board.

"Hello my name is Professor Rick Sanchez and welcome to As-*burps*-trophysics 1526. I noticed there's a limited number of you in this class, meaning either the 15 of you are seniors or really smart freshman." He spoke. His voice was raspy, yet in an odd way, soothing. "So, please go aro -*burps*-und and tell me your names and why you're in Astrophysics and something you like to do in your free time"

You sat on the edge of the last row, closest to the outlet and the window. You liked the gentle heat the sun provided and a good view of the lawn.

"I'm (y/n), I'm in Astrophysics because it's my major" you shrug. "I like building shit" you added.

"Grrrreat!" Professor Sanchez said. "Let's get started. I suggest getting out a piece of paper and taking notes" he begins writing on the board. You immediately recognize the equation, the lane-emden equation for polytropic stars. "Can any of you tell me what this *burps* is?"

"The Lane- emden equation for polytropic stars" you said aloud.

"And it's used for?"

"It's used to model the internal structure of self gravitation, spherically symmetric polytropic stars. It's describes how the pressure, density, and temperature of a star vary with radius, based on the assumption that the star's equation of the state follows a polytropic relationship" you explain. Professor nods his head slowly, as continues to write.

"Great. Now, all of chapter 1 is staged *burps* around Polytropic stars. Can anyone explain to me what a polytropic star is?" He turns to the class, his eyes settling on you. You chose not to answer this question, so you didn't seem like a know it all. The class stayed quiet, everyone searching through their books to figure out what a polytropic star was.

"Its a star whose internal structure can be described by a polytropic equation of its state?" Another student says.

"Partially correct." Sanchez says flatly. You had a feeling a lot of the kids here that walked around acting better than everyone were gonna get reality checked. "You missed the keys fact of it being an idealized model of stars"

"Oh..." the kid said quietly.

"What's your name?" He pointed at the kid who was speaking,

"Michael"

"Okay, Michael, give me the relationship between gravitational force and polytropic stars and tell me how it affects their internal structure" Sanchez spoke coldly. He was testing him. You had looked this guy up in Rate My Professor, no stars and very little reviews. You picked him because it said he gave very little homework, but apparently super hard, almost impossible.

An hour later, his watch went off, signaling the end of class. You guys looked around at each other, confused.

“Okay, well that’s the end of today’s class. I’ve assigned you homework, it’s explicitly written in Canvas, homework’s due by the morning of next class which is…?”

“Wednesday” someone said aloud.

“Yes, great. If you *burps* have questions email me. Check the syllabus for any contact information and my office hours are listed. I suggest you use them, this class - not just mine- has a very low success rate” Professor stated as everyone began to pack up. “See you twerps on Wednesday”