#physics practical

[insane-in-the-membranee]

Sooo mera parso phy boards practical hai AND I'm so scared man like GAWD

Ek toh meri qismat itni kharab ki last batch hai like sb batches mein 30 bachhe hai and mere batch mein only 15 and the lab is QUITE big

How tf we gonna cheat?—

KUCH AATA BHI NHIII😭😭

Ded bhai ded.

[3liza]

House MD depicts an autistic who has gotten insanely good at reading people and is just in too much pain to use it for social engineering much beyond his weird little pranks and machinations. my dad is this type of autist, i think of it as the Frasier Crane type as opposed to the Star Trek type. you know. capable of being jocular, jovial, charming, even seductive, but it requires so much bandwidth its still extremely taxing. i have been telling you on this blog for ten years that it is in your best interests to become jocular. it will stun you how much better you are at reading people than the majority of neurotypicals. there's no reason for them to get good at it when they dont even know what there is to get good at. microexpressions are real and i can see them

[bbb-bbbbbbb]

hey HEY how many times do i have to tell you to stay away from lasers???

[lena-thinks-too-much]

It is so, so important to me that people understand that Tim didn't figure out the bats because Dick was a "Show off". Like yes, Dick Grayson is the most flamboyant, dramatic ass man you will ever meet.

But the quadruple somersault? There's no way that was because dick was just showing off. Because you're telling me Bruce Wayne, who's so committed to hiding his identity that he literally acts like a completely different person out of the mask in public just to ward suspicion, would miss the fact that Robin regularly uses the flying Grayson's trademark move? There's literally no way.

In the comics we see Tim explain his deductive process to Dick and Alfred and they're both surprised impressed whatever. We don't see him explain it to Bruce. I think Bruce would be surprised and shocked that a 9 year old was able to put the pieces together but I don't think he'd be surprised that the quadruple somersault gave it away.

So if Bruce was possibly aware of such an obvious give away, why let it continue?

I'll tell you why.

It really comes down to the physics

So Dick was 9 when he started out right? That means the most he'd have likely weighed was 43kgs or roughly 95lbs in freedom units.

But Dick and both of his parents are gymnasts who tend to be smaller. So he was likely less than that.

In physics, rotating objects build up angular momentum (this is how bikes stay up right for example). The more rotation, the more momentum. And objects with less mass build up that momentum much faster than those that are heavier.

Robin constantly has to fight people who are nearly 3 times his size. I teach 8 year olds, they're tiny. A quadruple somersault for a small boy that weighs less than a hundred pounds is a brutal weapon. Especially if you add in the acceleration from gravity as he drops in from above.

And I can guarantee you this logic tracks because Dick literally utilizes this idea, without the somersault, in the 2009 teen titans cartoon.

Yeah, that's right. We're talking about the infamous knee drop.

Like it is borderline savage. Add in a quadruple somersault and the resulting force is nearly fatal. It's likely the main reason Batman would ever allow him to do it with the cape on.

Also, Dick landing feet first on the penguin in the first image probably gave the guy severe back issues

[aliosne]

Saw a post about working class butches in physical labour jobs and wanted to make my own, so: I love you butches who do childcare or early education. I love you butch nurses. I love you butch house cleaners and janitorial staff. I love you service industry butches. I love you butches who do sex work. I love you working class butches who do “feminine” jobs you are cool as hell

[mythbringer-mayhem]

Here's my late valentine's day post

They love each other

(Original image)

[marzipanandminutiae]

why are skirts inherently evil and oppressive in historical fiction until men are wearing them

I've never heard anyone going on at length about how Universally ImpracticalTM the garb of a Scotsman or an ancient Roman politician are

suddenly everyone has a concept of situational practicality that previously was not there

[cat-attack1701]

There's always time for a kiss

[cheddar-baby]

the thing i appreciate about art is how straight forward it is to improve. There is essentially two things you need to be doing and it looks a bit different for everyone but if you feel like you're stuck and you can't see a path forward then you need to build your visual library. This entails critically looking at lots of art, every day objects, people, etc. You just need to be looking at things with the intention of taking in information like how light and shadow works on it, techniques used (in art). Its hugely important to look at things like this because its like building a visual muscle memory for understanding how everything is put together.

The other half is when you feel stuck but you can see the path forward to what you want to make you simply just need physical practice, you have a larger internal library than you have physical muscle memory and its frustrating you to not be able to create what you are seeing in your head. This step is also important to be working consciously because when you're understanding why you're doing things and doing it intentionally then you'll retain the knowledge.

[sportsgearfet]

[sevastiel]

A Thousand Lifetimes

Drifter appreciation piece :3

[buff-muffin]

I remember seeing this guy talk about raising his sons and it kind of made me think of a modern AU Dadan and how I think she would also use one of the methods this guy mentioned. I don't remember the guy who posted or how long ago it was before it resurfaced in my brain, but essentially. he knew his boys needed to rough house, get out the energy of being well behaved all day so he bough a few gym mats and punching dummy's and threw these kids (lightly) around. Which, in of its self, is an amazing thing to give a small boy? a place to be rough and tumble and loud, an outlet for the exhaustion of the day and a place where they could actually practice their strength.

Now the ASL brothers are by no means as gentle and really they're fighting with teeth and claws regardless. but I love the mental image of like. After hours of these boys fighting every second of the day. who gets the first bath, who gets the bigger sandwich, who has to sit middle in the car, who gets the good snack or the last serving or the shower or the top bunk. or whatever other reason they decide to have a BRAWL IN THE FUCKING LIVING ROOM. Dadan finally gave in. going round back of an gymnasium she manages to score some old worn out tumble mats. drags them out to the shed and says "this is where you fight. not in the bedroom. not in my kitchen. not at school. here. and the only rule is you cant cause enough physical injury to have CPS called in my ass again."

now when an adult gives you a round about way to let you beat your siblings ass? you're gonna take it. and the collection grew, second hand boxing gloves, pool noodles cardboard shields and the dangerous stay piece of bamboo. they had their battle arena and would run home to settle a fight from hours before. And also gave Dadan a reason to kick them out of the actual fucking house when they got too rowdy over mario kart.

Of course they still got hurt. punches too hard, slamming into the concrete, a lost tooth a broken limb. But I truly think those memories of running to the shed to fight over who got the last slice of dessert at 9pm must be some of those boys favourites. Dadan considered it a slightly duller head ache

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 6

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Disrobing, CMNF (clothed male naked female), hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kink negotiations, kissing, touching over clothes, touching under clothes, explicit consent

“Feelin’ good?”

Simon’s got you laying back on the bed, a thick pillow under your neck and shoulders. You’re still wearing your cami, but he didn’t tell you to keep the pants. You usually don’t wear them for your stretches, so you had shucked them off before it had even occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t. When glanced at him for his reaction, his eyes had been dark and hungry.

Now, you look at him, looking at you, and feel a bit breathless. “Y-yeah.”

“Green?”

“Green,” you say, a bit more firm. “I’m very comfortable, thank you.”

“Good girl,” he says. “Proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, a little startled. “You want to try something?”

He puts one knee on the bed by your feet. “’M gonna help you. Hold your legs and apply a bit of pressure. Acknowledge.”

“You want to help me with my leg stretches.” You can’t help but feel a bit nervous, looking at the muscles in his arms. “You’re going to hold my legs, and also apply some pressure.”

“You’re going to tell me when it feels good, and when it feels bad,” he continues. “Use your scale. Acknowledge.”

God, he’s so good to you. Your lower back releases tension you didn’t know you were still holding. “I’m going to use my scale to tell you how it feels. Three is perfect, one is way too light, five is way too hard. Acknowledged.”

He coaxes you to bend your legs as he climbs fully on the bed, until your left thigh is over one of his, your other foot wedged under his shin. The memory foam dips under your own weight, but it feels like the whole bed is tipping to accommodate him. You’re not sure where to look as he plants a hand by your shoulder, blocking out the rest of the room.

He touches the back of your knee and you jump.

“Easy,” he whispers. His thumb sweeps over the front of your thigh before he lifts with the barest pressure. When your calf is cradled under his arm, he asks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you rasp. Swallow. Try again. “Yeah. One.”

He pushes your knee up toward your diaphragm, then pulls your leg straight. “Hips,” he rumbles.

You glance down between you at where his shirt and sweatpants are making a valiant effort of keeping everything contained. “Uh huh.”

The hand on the bed comes up to cup your chin. He chuckles down at you. “Keep your ‘ips lined up right, Bambi.”

It’s the eye contact. It’s all the physical contact. It’s the day catching up to you. Whatever it is, your body lights up and your brain shuts off. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Fuck.” He rumbles, shuffling forward and pulling your ass into the cradle of his thighs. When you try to wiggle, to feel him where he’s half hard against you, he uses his grip on your leg to hold you still. “So polite. My good girl. Can you be patient for me?”

You whine, one of your hands coming up to grip his forearm. “Please?”

“Gotta do your stretches first,” he rumbles. “That was the deal. TV, stretches, then the reward. Acknowledge.”

His grip on you is easy and solid. The way you’re folded under him means you’re well and truly stuck. You push the shin of your bent leg against his inner thigh and shiver when he doesn’t even twitch. “Please?”

“Stretches first,” he chuckles, pressing his thumb to your lips. “When I make you come, I don’t want to hurt you. Acknowledge.”

If he looks down, he is going to see how wet you are through your panties. “Acknowledged. Stretches first.”

“And…?”

And? You freeze in the act of touching the tip of your tongue to his thumb. “Uh. Unsure?”

“Keep your hips even,” he reminds you, enunciating as he stares into your eyes. “Acknowledge.”

“Keep my hips even,” you answer. You lick the pad of his thumb. It’s calloused and salty, and you want it in your mouth. “Acknowledged.”

“Good girl.”

He sits back enough to lift your left leg until your calf is on his shoulder, your knee slightly bent. And then he leans forward, bracing your leg until it straightens, incrementally.

Years ago, even this gentle pull to your hamstrings would have had you crying. Now, there’s the slightest burn as you flex your foot. You let him push until that burn spikes, and then you tap his arm twice. “Three, right there.”

“Good,” he rumbles. “Thirty seconds. You can do it, pretty girl.”

You could hold this position for an hour if he praises you through it. And he does, hushed words and gentle kisses pressed to whatever part of your leg he can reach. Your muscles relax into the position in record time. And then he’s easing back, massaging the back of your thigh and coaxing your knee to bend.

“Number.”

“Three,” you mumble as he switches sides, pulsing your right leg in preparation. “Two point eight.”

“Good girl.”

Your right leg does not want to move like the other one, probably as a result of sleeping on the floor. Simon notices almost before you do, doesn’t push you leg as far back as the other.

“Three point two,” you tell him before he can prompt you. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath as he pulls back the barest hint. “Good, good. Three.”

His hands are large and warm, one on the front of your lifted thigh, the other on your opposite hip. His thumb slips under the edge of your cami, rubbing back and forth. You let yourself focus on the rhythm of it, timing your breaths with the way his calluses drag against your skin. Sooner than you expect, he’s bringing your leg back down.

When you open your eyes, Simon is already looking at you. You’re not sure what he’s seeing. Before you can stop it, your brain says nothing he’s impressed by. Looking at his upper arms, which are almost as big around as your thighs, you feel distinctly unremarkable. Simon is so big. He has so many scars. He’s literally a hero. And here he is helping you with your hip mobility. God, how pathetic-

“Back to me,” Simon rumbles. He drops your legs on either side of his hips and leans forward to take your face in one hand again. “C’n almost see your mind racing, Bambi. Where’d you go?”

He’s hard against you, so big through the few layers between you that your head spins. It takes you a moment to parse out the question. When you do, you avoid his eyes. “M’ sorry.”

Simon’s other arm slides under your lower back, anchoring you closer as he rocks his hips down into yours. “Are you?”

Words gone, you gasp an affirmative noise. When your hands come up to grasp at his arm and his shoulder, he rewards you with another roll of his hips and a deep groan. He lets you grind up against him, startling another soft noise out of you.

This time, when he kisses you, he licks into your mouth immediately. His hand tilts your face where he wants it as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. All you can do is hold on. And even that becomes tenuous when he pushes your panties aside to grab a palm full of your ass.

The next roll of his body into yours is is the perfect friction against your clit. You surprise yourself with the noise you make as your hips buck into him without your input. The leg you wrap around his his waist gives you the leverage to chase the feeling, until the kiss ends as abruptly as it started.

Hands wrapped around your heaving sides, Simon sits back on his heels, his own breaths coming deep and ragged. His eyes are so dark as he looks over you. You gasp as his right slides up, pushing at your shirt, until he can swipe a thumb over your nipple.

“Thought I was ‘aving an ‘ard time styain’ disciplined before,” he chuckles as he squeezes at your skin. “Look’t you.” The flimsy shirt gets bunched up around your collar bones as he pets and pinches gently at you. “So fuckin’ soft, made for spoilin’. ‘Ow’m I supposed to keep focused?”

When he pinches your nipple again, you whine. “Simon, please!”

“Gotta do one more set, Bambi,” he chides, one hand sliding down to tease at the edge of your panties. When you whine again, he shushes you gently. “I know. “Y’re a good girl. Been waiting so patiently for your reward. So I have a proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Yes,” you gasp. At this point, you’ll do whatever he wants. “Okay. We can do it.”

“No,” he corrects, pulling at your nipple, just enough to make your back arch. “Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged!” You moan when his pinching fingers go light and gentle again.

“Gonna keep doing your stretches,” he tells you, as he tugs your panties over the curve of your ass. He nods, and you can’t help but nod along, arching to let him pull them up your thighs. “An’ since you’re being so good, you can ‘ave one o’ my fingers in that pretty cunt.”

[inmyheaddd]

guysssss there's this boyyyy who's so tall and he calls me smart and he said ''youre the smartest person i know'' and he has the cutest dimples ever and in physics he literally just. looks at me. like. and then i look at him and go like what?? and he just smiles and turns away.. and my friend who sits next to me looks at me with the stupidest smile on her face and goes like ''what the fuck was that????"

AND HEs always texting me... like i sent a streak (booo snapchat thumbs down) of me at the airport and then we talk a bit and im abt to board and heslike dont crash and im like ill try my best and then when i land I text him back and im like GUESS WHAT and he says WHAT and im like i didn't crash!!!! and hes SO CUTETETETE but hes so like tall and dark hair and gym guy like he looks so intimidating until he fricking smiles and whewwwwwwww those dimples could kill me!!

and one time in psychology i was just talking to my friend and i glance behind m friend and hes just looking at me. or ill just be looking around the class bored and there he is with his slightly damp hair at 7 in the morning and glasses. looking at me.

and ugh guys LIKING SOMEONE IS SO EMBARASSINGGGG

[verfalne]

newt doing hermann's back tattoo (particle collisions) hermann complained a lot lol.

bsky | vgen 💙reblogs are loved

[dotcircledot]

uh uhhh uh