chain tension

Prince Rupert’s Drop

Did you guys ever hear about Prince Rupert’s Drop? The British Royal Society was really interested in these things back in the 1600s.

It’s basically a long, thin, practically snaky bit of glass that you get when you drop some molten glass into water. It solidifies into a shape like this:

The interesting and weird thing is, you can’t really break the bulb part. You can take a hammer to it but it won’t break. But the long tail is fragile and easily broken. And if you break any part of this thing, it explodes. Really, it just blows up into a million tiny little shards.

With modern high-speed cameras, they’ve managed to measure the speed of the fracture at slightly faster than one mile per second.

The reason why it breaks like this is because, when the molten glass rapidly cools, the surface hardens right up, but the inside still stays hot for a while. As the inside cools, it pulls in on itself really hard in all directions, leaving the entire drop in a constant state of high tension. When it’s entirely cooled, it only takes a tiny fracture to release that chain reaction of released tension that breaks all of it almost at once. 

anonymous asked:

do you think there was some major beef/internal conflict in 1d (Niall, Louis, & Liam V.S. Harry)?? because I really get the impression that Harry was very separate from the other members of the band, always kind of off doing his own thing while the other boys seemed to be a band of their own... am I crazy or do you sort of see this divide as well??

Hi anon!

OK, so I truly never thought it was OT3/4 vs Harry, I really didn’t. I thought it was all tabloid fodder, made up by Dan and Simon, etc. And I would like to preface this whole post with “this is all image, we don’t really know what’s going on behind the scenes, this could be part of their solo pushes,” and so on and so forth.

But having said all of that, yeah, I’m starting to think that view has some truth behind it.

Keeping in mind that Liam tended to act as the spokesman for the band, and he’s doing active promo for the first time, let’s look at him…

There was this sort of weird tweet. I remember at the time, the fandom was like “that’s kind of weird.” But whatever, who knows who wrote the tweet, and he did say he’s proud of Harry.

But then we come to hear it was Harry who wanted the hiatus first (per Harry’s Rolling Stone article) and Liam says that Niall had the hardest time with it, and that Liam didn’t even know what a hiatus was (which sounds like bullshit, but that’s the story he’s pushing), and that’s just…something to note. OK.

Then we get the totally flat affect of Harry talking about Liam’s music on Grimmy’s show. And he said he didn’t know about Liam’s chains, which was weird.

We get the Harry Potter tweet about celebrity from Liam, and then Liam kept posting pictures of the chain all over the place, including with Niall.

Then we have Harry being rude to the fan who got Liam’s chevron tat, and claiming it had nothing to do with him (as if he wasn’t part of 1D?).

And the way that Liam talked about Harry and his music today was not positive, while he talked positively about Niall’s music and showed up at WangoTango and was photographed with him (and the chain).

Then we have the comments Liam made about how he wrote half the songs on MITAM (I think that was half of the songs that any of OT4 wrote for the album?) and how he wanted to tour it. Harry has been sold as being the one who “changed” 1D’s sound, but we know that Liam has done a ton of the writing. In fact, if you compare the writing credits, Liam wrote more songs for 1D (including on MITAM) and got production credit on things (often remixes).

Finally, we get these weird questions from Dan toward both Niall and Harry, where they both leave open the possibility of One Direction existing without Harry. And we have Liam including Zayn in his answers about what the band is doing for their solo music. And go bacik to the first link in the above paragraph, where he says, “It’s difficult to see how everyone’s gonna work out at the moment.”

Now, you asked about Louis, Liam, and Niall as a unit.

When I rewatch OTRA clips now, I wonder if the other men ever got annoyed with Harry being all over the stage and sort of taking over, especially while they were singing. A post crossed my dash today about stage Harry in OTRA and he was swinging around his hair, bounding across the stage, dancing with mics, etc–and in this clip, it wasn’t when he was singing. I’ve talked about how Harry’s stage presence on SNL was not what I expected, and in rewatching OTRA clips now, it’s clear often Harry was able to be stage!Harry because the other men were singing. I wonder how they felt about that? (I wonder. Truly wonder. I’m not making assumptions, I’m rethinking old assumptions.)

I think Niall will always try to be a neutral as possible. He’s like Switzerland. But even he left open the idea that 1D could come back without Harry. Which…?

I think there is clearly no love lost between Harry and Zayn, and I think that’s for real.

Louis seemed more in sync with the other men (Niall and Liam) in OTRA. We know Harry had his own stylist, etc. 

So. To answer your question, yeah, I see it. And I don’t know if it’s just for promo purposes or what. But I see it.

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Kiss Me - Part 5

[A/N: Okay so here is the penultimate chapter! This includes the teaser that was posted last week! Quite angsty but things are only going to get better from here. The next chapter is the final one and the resolve, I’ve already got it all planned out and I already love it so I hope you will to! Thank you for reading this fic, hope this part was worth the wait!]

Word Count: 1615

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Originally posted by knightlley

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Nobody (Part 1)

Plot:  Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky.  Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU

Warnings: mentions of past torture/imprisonment

Words: 1539

A/N: thoughts and Russian words/phonetics are in italics

Reader’s POV

They’re coming.

Muffled boot-falls sounded outside of the heavy metal fire-door that enclosed your cell. Some sort of ruckus had been going on outside.  You’d heard the steady pap-pap-pap of machine-gun fire not long ago, but it had since died down.  Maybe another one of the test subjects had escaped (they’d been trying more often lately; at least two a year) or it could be just another training session.

I bet they’ll start hunting us again.  When it gets cold.  Your thoughts often floated in and out, sometimes you couldn’t even be sure if you were thinking things or talking out loud to nobody at all. Though, you did prefer to talk to nobody.  Nobody whipped you or hit you or spit on you.  Nobody experimented on you with fire or electricity.  Nobody cut you open to see what made you tick.  Nobody sewed you back together again and left you lying on the cold, hard floor, twitching in agony.  You liked nobody.  

Somebody’s out there.  The big one? 

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Harley-Davidson FatBoy (FLSTF) 2007 “The Smoked” или Копчёный

Концепция этого мотоцикла менялась столько раз, что уже даже трудно будет вспомнить. Началось все с того, что у друга случилась неприятная история с мотоциклом и нам нужен был легальный донор. С момента покупки мотоцикла на аукционе Copart до фактического его получения на руки прошло месяцев 8, нам было очень тяжело признать через суд «это» транспортным средством.  

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Grinding my gears...

Hey any of you converted a gear bike to a single speed or fixie?

My cheapo Schwinn 7 speed always seems to have gear issues despite repeated visits to the shop, so I’m thinking about just saying fucck it and converting the bike to a single speed.

So at the very least I’ll have to switch out the back wheel, right? and also get rid of the gear handle on the handlebars.

Any advice on doing this - or just biting the bullet and getting a different bike? One thing that may make this not work is that the rear drop out isn’t horizontal so may make getting the chain tension right too difficult? Help!?!

anonymous asked:

If you're still doing Itasaku prompts, can you do one where Itachi is a ghost that gets attached to Sakura, a medium? Thanks, and I adore your writing!!

Somebody Catch My Breath I want to be known by you


“Get up, Sakura.”

“I liked it better when you couldn’t talk,” she wheezed. Still, she struggled to raise herself from the dirt. Pain thrummed down her arms, down her back, her thighs. She blinked away the blood in her eyes, a cut somewhere in her hairline. Drawing herself on her elbows, she circulated healing chakra to the gash that ran from her hip to across her back, but only enough to dull the pain and quell the bleeding. She would need every drop if she wanted to get out of this alive.

“You can complain to me after we move. They’re closing in fast.”

Sakura suppressed her snarl, and got to her feet with shaking knees. Sweat dripped off her nose and she spat out the blood pooling in her mouth. Her muscles were throbbing, head aching, and her heart pounding wildly in a rapid staccato rhythm. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t bring in the air fast enough to relieve her burning lungs. She lost the full range of her left arm thanks to the injury on her back-

“Sakura, now.”

And so, with years of experience of being a missing nin, she shunshin-ed away from the carnage in the open field and took to the trees, pumping her legs as fast as she was able, heedless of the branches leaving shallow cuts across her cheeks, her chin. Through the leaves, the sun sank deeper in the sky, until it was a mere sliver of gold resting on the horizon. The forest would be enveloped in darkness soon, and she would have nothing but the glow of Itachi’s ghost for light.

“They’ve caught up,” his voice hissed in her ear, close, “your six o’clock-”

Sakura ducked down - she could hear the clanging sound of chain links overhead - and pivoted to her right, springing off the branch in a burst of chakra, and catching the flanking hunter-nin off guard for a half a second. It was all the hesitation she needed to wrap her good hand around his throat and squeeze. Sakura dropped down to the forest floor before the dead body hit the ground.

Shadows crept wider and longer across the thicket and gnarled roots - you have three minutes of sunlight, make it count - as the second wave of Danzou’s exterminators dropped down from the high boughs with barely a sound. She counted one, two, three -

“Four of them,” Itachi said from behind her, “The wolf mask is targeting your injured side.”

He was pushing to insinuate his presence in corporeal form, she could tell by the way the air dropped a few degrees and her breath came out in puffs of white frost. The back of her neck felt cold, and the chill traveled down her spine. He tried, but Sakura also knew that he wouldn’t succeed - he had already burned the energy from assisting her in the first battle.

The hunters didn’t see or hear him, but it wouldn’t be the first time Sakura’s heard voices in her head.

The sound of clanking metal links drew her attention, and she tilted her head fractionally to eye the shinobi who wielded the counterweight of his kusarigama that nearly bludgeoned the back of her head. He swung the weight in slow circles, feet inching forward. Sakura decided that she would save him for last.

“Well?” she growled and they moved in tandem, weapons outstretched. Wolf Mask reached her first, the blade of his tanto glinting orange in the fading light, aiming for her injury, but Sakura pivoted away - she could feel the flat of the blade brushing against her tattered vest - and caught the back of his head with her elbow. He went down and didn’t get back up again.


She jumped, drawing her knees to her chest, hissing when she stretched her back wound, as two arms sprouted from the ground, grasping futilely at her ankles. Sakura brought her feet down hard, feeling the rock and the man’s ribcage give underneath her boots. Not losing momentum, she sprung from the crater, attempting to catch the third in a clothesline. He was faster, bending over in a back handspring, flipping backwards two more times, fingers blurring in hand signs. The kusarigama weight came at her head again, keeping her occupied.

“Earth jutsu,” Itachi called out from somewhere behind her and Sakura grinned. If Danzou wanted her dead, he would need to do a much better job than to send hunter-nin who knew nothing of her MO. Sliding her final kunai from her thigh holster, she pinned the chain to the trunk of an oak.

The ground underneath her feet shook, but years of splitting apart the earth with her bare fists taught her to keep her center of gravity low. Spikes of rock jutted in a straight line intending to impale her, but Sakura wasn’t cowed. Cocking her right elbow back, she honed her chakra in her fist to the densest concentration possible, and with a guttural shannaro! drove it into the loam.

The land groaned and rumbled with the stress before cracking open in a gaping chasm, crumbling the jutsu’s spikes to dust. The earth user couldn’t gain the footing to escape the disintegrating ground and fell into the fissure with a shout.


Her brief moment of triumph cost her, or rather, the damned kusarigama did, right between her fourth and fifth rib, knocking the breath right from her lungs. In reflex, she wrapped her hand around the chain so it wouldn’t recoil back. She was grateful for small mercies that it was the iron weight rather than the blade end that caught her off guard. The chain ranged with tension, the remaining adversaries embroiled in a brief tug-of-war, before the hunter-nin relented and vaulted at her with chakra sparking his feet. He raised the sickle high, curved blade winking gold in the last of the light, and Sakura took a single step back. In a move rehearsed a thousand times before in training - back when Konoha was whole - she grabbed his wrist before he could complete his downward slash, and hooked her leg behind his, kicking it out from beneath him. She grabbed his face with her right hand, pushing him backwards and without his balance, he went down like a felled tree, landing on his back with a heavy thud. The sickle skittered across the floor when Sakura slammed his wrist against a stray rock. She pressed her knee against his sternum, holding the nin in place. Between her splayed fingers, she saw his dark eyes widen behind his mask.

With no effort at all, Sakura crushed his skull.

Itachi made no sound when she released the dead body, fingers unwinding from his shattered mask, his broken wrist. The laceration in her back throbbed like it was on fire, and she dared to siphon a little more of her dwindling supply of chakra to mute the pain.

Maybe one day she would look back on her kills with shame and disgust, but all she had now was the heat of her fury simmering low in her gut and the desperate instinct to survive. At least until she found a way to rip Danzou off his ill-gotten throne. And apparently, it all laid in the hands of a dead man.

Now shrouded in darkness, Sakura found the nearest trunk and leaned all her weight into it. She wanted to sink onto the floor and sleep, but she still had so many miles to go to find Itachi’s body, deep in enemy territory and teeming with enemy-nin. Danzou had been either too arrogant or too stupid to not burn the corpse, but it was a mistake they both were willing to exploit to the fullest.

His ghost drifted closer and the temperature around him dropped.

“We cannot stay here,” he murmured, close yet again, why did he always draw so close? “We have to keep moving.”

She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them, and regarded him through her lashes. He hovered a few feet from her, eyebrows crinkled in such potent concern that had no business making her chest flutter like a bird. Fractured ribs, she told herself. She closed her eyes again so she did not have to look upon his pristine appearance when she surely looked like she had been through the slaughterhouse.

“I need a moment,” she whispered back, voice cracking with the grit that stuck in her throat. Every wound inflicted upon her throbbed with dull pain. She was so tired  and homesick and she missed her friends terribly. She wanted Ino and Naruto and Tsunade, but they were scattered to the wind. Dead for all she knew - no. That’s dangerous thinking, Sakura, suck it up and get your ass moving. You didn’t watch Konoha burn to sit here and sulk about how tired you are.

She shook her head once, to disperse the black edging her vision. For Konoha, the voice in her head hissed.

The shock of cold on her cheek made her open her eyes again. Itachi was closer than before, his open palm hovering over her right cheek in a mockery of affection, and traced his hand down, thumb hovering over her split bottom lip as if he wanted to brush the blood flaking there away. Sakura felt his wintry aura chill her skin, sapping the heat from her body. The part of her that still craved tenderness, wanted with acute desperation that she could feel his skin, feel warmth.

Haunted for three months, in her dreams, the hollows of her eyelids, her peripherals, Sakura had thought she had finally become unhinged. Then the ghostly touches started - her hair, the back of her neck. She cropped it up to loneliness and paranoia, both constant companions in her life as a missing nin, but then she heard his voice. He whispered her name in the darkness of the night and she knew she wasn’t spiraling into lunacy. Uchiha Itachi, a man who Sasuke murdered five years ago, manifested himself before her eyes with a single, plaintive request.

I need your help.

Three months and she was still chasing a half made plan of a dead man in some wild offshoot chance she could bring him to life.

“Why me?” she had asked him one time, deep in Ame, when the stars had come out and she had made a fire to keep her warm through the night. He didn’t answer her, but he looked at her like he regretted her somehow, so she never asked again. Until today.

Why me? Why did you come to me, why when there are others who are more qualified than I am? Why do you look at me like you do?

All of her questions rolled into two words, and she wasn’t sure which answer she feared the most.

Itachi’s hand fell away from her neck, and this time too, he offered no answer, silent as a wraith.

Dear God, forgive me for my Unholy Confessions, Crimson Day is upon us, Planets will collide, I’m not ready to Die but I’ll Carry On. Fiction in my mind as the Nightmare goes on. Feeling Betrayed as the Forgotten Faces consume me, Remenissions are all I have. I grasp a Second Heartbeat as the Demons attempt to take over me and the Girl I Know. I’m at the Crossroads of  the Afterlife and Eternal Rest. It’s Almost Easy to forget I’ve Lost it All, but at 4 a.m. Tonight the World Dies. Save me Shepherd of Fire but I know you are Shattered by Broken Dreams so I’ll Turn the other Way from the Heretic and Seize the Day while the Strength of the World is still with me. I feel like I’m Blinded in Chains as the Tension rolls over me and unfortunately St. James I Won’t See You Tonight for there is a Radiant Eclipse And All Things Will End. The Fight commences as the Dancing Dead are Buried Alive and now So Far Away. They will be Coming Home, not Lost but understanding that they were Doing their Time and experiencing a Little Piece of Heaven. Sidewinder swipes til the Wicked End and currently i’m M.I.A., feeling like a Victim. Acid Rain begins to pour down while im standing on the Danger Line so of course This Means War as I Scream because there is a Gunslinger on the Streets in front of me. Darkness Surrounding as he shouts Hail to the King! Almost like a Clairvoyant Disease it’s an Epic of Time Wasted. Seeing the light as the Unbound Wild Ride Continues. Absolutely Trashed and Scattered. A7X foREVer <3

Feuding Races in Medieval Settings

Anonymous said: I’m basing a lighthearted fantasy story around two countries in a loosely medieval setting. I was planning to have the citizens of one country be relatively discriminatory for a variety of reasons against the other one. I considered making the other country (and one of the lead characters who’s from there) a non-white race. What would be some things to watch out in such a scenario? Any suggestions?

I recently read a book pretty similar to this layout, loosely pseudo-medieval (European) setting with a prejudice dynamic.

It’s called Chained by Elise Marion and revolves around the Kingdom of Alemere made up of three different realms. 

Sourcing the Tensions

In Chained, the people of Dinasdale are the equivalent of Black people, the Daleraia are White people, and the Camritte people either I don’t remember or their race isn’t made clear plus an outside country of golden-skinned people called the Lerrothe that I took for mixed race, likely Black and White. Well the Dinasdale and Daleraian people (Black and White) are in a feud that dates back some decades, perhaps a century or so.

The reasons these two realms have tension are based on actions of men in their respective royal families. Ultimately the actions of the Daleraira (whites) kingdom started the feud, though when the story begins the recent feud is sparked by actions within the royal Dinasdale (Black) family.

Now, I would’ve felt iffy with the Black family having begun the feud, particularly because of why it’d begun in the first place (both the actions of the families involve kidnapping of women, murder and violence).

Both were in the wrong, yes, and you don’t need to fear not letting folks of your PoC races do awful things if the story calls for it, but be careful with what you might insinuate. There’s enough images of Black people being violent and savage unprovoked, for example. There’s no racism issues in Chained, more like ethnocentrism and xenophobia, though whether there’s racism in your story or not, it’s still good to consider what sort of reflection something has in a real life context.

Portraying your Races

Be mindful of your portrayals of your races as a whole. It might be obvious, but avoid implying the ways of the PoC to be inferior to the White race of people whether in culture or lifestyle, technological advancement, etc. Chained handled this well; both countries are essentially part of Alemere (pseudo-Europe) the biggest differences are cultural; what folks do for a living, entertainment, mannerisms.

I’d also suggest you be dynamic when developing the POC country’s people and avoid heavy extremities (aka caricatures). They shouldn’t be all alike or a monolith of their people or culture.

As for developing characters within the race, while you don’t want your POC to all be perfect, they shouldn’t (they meaning the people, the government) all have to be a guilt-free people either. Some folks may be heroic, others might be low-lives, some might be somewhere in between.

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