creeping flow

Let Me Be Your Light ~Phan~

Oneshot. A blind fan meets Dan and Phil and asks them to describe each other, and confessions are made.
Rating: T- quite a few swears oops sorry
Warnings: Mild self-hate. Brief mention of cancer

You are the loveliest people omg xxx reviews are the food of love and I am peckish, so please tell me what you thought!

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tipthewink asked for Sera...
Anglerfish - Too good to be true, probably is. (for tipthewink​ )

“If you’ve come to vandalize the fresco I hope you brought more than arrows to save you.”

He’s not looking up at her, crammed between the library bannisters, so he doesn’t see her tongue sticking out. Waste.  

“Wouldn’t do that. Again,” she says. “Just looking is all. Looking’s not a crime now, is it?”

He’s painting, starting on the floor this time. Always does it in the dead of night, all in one go, slapping on that stinking plaster. The room smells like ash and wet chalk until it dries, takes days. She likes the paints, though. They’re pretty, rich-like, before they go on.

“Looking at what, exactly?” says Solas.

“The shine off your head, for one.”

Painting, working on his knees, but no stopping and no talking. Right, it’s all business once he starts, and her fun won’t start if he won’t play.  So, she drops down to the scaffold, crouching over to see him.

“Fine, I’ve got a question. You love those, right?” She waits, but hasn’t gotten any better at it after all this time.  “No good having all the answers in that bulgy, fade-y brain if no one ever asks.”

“Quite so,” he says, a tickle of a pause. Got him. “Ask, but I have to keep working.”

She opens her mouth, and the question sits there, lost.  On the blank wall he’s sketched the picture, a whole night’s work laid out in nothing but grey lines. She makes out the temple, the wilds creeping and the water flowing, and below it his head in the real world, bent low like no one’s ever allowed to see him, not really. He adds a milky slate blue across the bottom of the plaster, working fast with a broad brush.  

“That maybe-goddess, Mythal, that weird temple full of ancient, snooty elves,” says Sera, watching how the sketch lines disappear and then come back under the thin paint. “It’s all real. Or was once. And now it’s just a story, but with too many pages missing, bound up like it should still make sense.  It doesn’t.”

More brushing, deeper color where he layers it.

“That is certainly one interpretation. No less insightful than that of the Dalish,” says Solas to the wall. “But I haven’t heard a question so far.”

“You don’t believe in Andraste or the Maker, but you believe in her.”

She sees it happen, a crack in the calm, where his light brushstrokes go heavy and wrong, in the space of a breath.

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because…” He wants to stop, she can tell, maybe walk off or yell at her, but he’s racing the plaster for time. And Solas always gets quiet when he lies. “Faith is personal, Sera. Its complexity can’t be summarized by-”

“Yeah, I’m not buying it, smarty-farts. You’re not really a ‘faith’ sort of man, are you?” She swings her legs against the ladder, a bit of a racket that rustles the birds up top.  “No, don’t think so. Sort of man, though, that might be right.”

Hard stop. He steps back from the wall.

“Sort of …?” When he finally looks up at her, it feels like she’s standing at the edge of a well. No bottom, all black, better left alone. “What are you implying?”

“Know what, forget it. Wasn’t even the question I came for,” she says in a rush, and slides down the ladder. “Thing is, I’m in a jam with Leliana, and I shouldn’t have done the thing I did, but it’s done, and now I’m on the hook.”

Heartbeats go by. She turns for the door when it seems like he won’t bother, but Solas dips the big brush again, and wets the wall with blue. “And?”

“Is there a …spell, or a potion, to make someone forgive you? Let the old bygones be, that kind of thing?” But shit, there’s always . .“Not blood magic.”

Half the wall is faded water now, past the shoulders and going for the ears.  Up against it, Solas looks like he’ll drown, but he’s got the brush.  And he just keeps painting it higher.

“Would the world be a better place if such a thing was possible?”

Yes and no, but more, uh, yeah! At least on her side of it.

“A bloody question for an answer,” she mutters. “Figures.”

In control

Originally posted by jonginssoo

💙

//Yixing x you

Word count: 2,125

Summary: Yixing loses his grip, both on the track and in his life, and you are a countersteer he needs to go straight again

Part II

Written long before Lose Control, but I never got around to post it, and somehow it fits? For @chengineering , who should get her shit back together and remember her bias is Chen.


You are laying in your bed. Your digital clock is the only light in the room, its display coloring your white sheets with green tint. You should be asleep, but the night is unnaturally silent and you can feel the anxiousness creeping under your skin, flowing through the vessels with your blood. It’s not right. Quiet nights are not what you have become accustomed to.

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Time creeps, crawls, flies, flees, flows, and stands still; it is abundant or scarce; it weighs on us with palpable heft. Bells toll for a “long” or a “short” time

So it is with time. Whenever we talk about it, we do so in terms of something lesser. We find or lose time, like a set of keys; we save and spend it, like money. Time creeps, crawls, flies, flees, flows, and stands still; it is abundant or scarce; it weighs on us with palpable heft. Bells toll for a “long” or a “short” time, as if their sound could be measured with a ruler. Childhood recedes, deadlines loom. The contemporary philosophers George Lakoff and Mark Johnson have proposed a thought experiment: take a moment and try to address time strictly in its own terms, stripped of any metaphor. You’ll be left empty-handed. “Would time still be time for us if we could not waste or budget it?” they wonder. “We think not.”

~ Alan Burdick, “Why Time Flies: A Mostly Scientific Investigation” (Simon & Schuster, January 24, 2017)

The Feline Legacy

Assassin’s claws sheathed in velvet paws
Just as The Lady’s war-lust within her beauty
A watcher’s eyes, alert for prey and demise
Just as The Lady’s insatiable appetite

Sensitive to the sinister, and so provide protection
To their family and home, a spiritual guardian
Hunter of the unseen, not only moths and mice
Yowls at those that creep and flow which with malice do entice

Curled in Sunna’s endless gift of many the golden ray
Or, in The Lady Freyja’s name, prowling for prey
Caring killer’s, companion-loving the soft hides the hard
Nine lives, and nine realms; just one spent in Midgard

norsegodcalls

As requested by anon

Lava is rather fascinating as a fluid. Lava flow regimes range from extremely viscous creeping flows all the way to moderately turbulent channel flow. Lava itself also has a widely varying rheology, with its bulk properties like viscosity and its response to deformation changing strongly with temperature and composition. As lava cools, instabilities form in the fluid, causing the folding, coiling, branching, swirling, and fracturing associated with different types and classes of lava. (Image credit: E. Guddman, via Mirror)

Okkkkk soooo maybe I'm overreacting or whatever but I seriously dropped a thug tear when listening to "Something New"

Like it wasn’t one of those “sad hurt” type of tears it was a “BITCH! YES! THAT’S OUR BABY!” Type of tear………like yoooooo Z killed that shit and then Breezy! Oh my god! With the old school TLC CREEP FLOW!!!! YAAAAAASSSS!!!

OUR BABY IS GROWN Y'ALL!!!! (Sorry for the late reaction but I’m just now hearing it)

Watch on fuckyeahfluiddynamics.tumblr.com

David asks: 

I’m taking an undergraduate fluid dynamics course, and I’m having trouble understanding what a Creeping Flow exactly is. The only thing I understand about that is that the Re should be 0 or close to 0 for the flow… Could you post an example of a creeping flow please? Thank you!

Absolutely! Creeping flow, also called Stokes flow, is, like you said, a very low Reynolds number flow. It would be hard to say that the Reynolds number is zero because that would seem to imply no flow at all. Think of it instead as a Reynolds number much, much less than one. When the Reynolds number is very low, it means that viscous forces are dominating the flow. The video above shows creeping flow around a cylinder; notice how the streamlines stay attached all the way around the surface of the cylinder.  There’s no separation, no turbulent wake, no von Karman vortex street. Viscosity is so dominant here that it’s damped out all of that inertial diffusion of momentum.

We’ve posted some other great examples of creeping flow, as well, though not by that name. There are the reversible laminar flow demos and various experiments in Hele-Shaw cells, all of which qualify as creeping flow because of their highly viscous nature. If you have the time, there’s also a great instructional video from the 1960s called “Low Reynolds Number Flow” (Parts 1, 2, 3, 4) starring G. I. Taylor (a famous fluid dynamicist) that is full of one demo after another.