turbulents

Watch Tyrant Season 2 Episode 12 Full Episode Online


Storyline:
The story of an unassuming American family drawn into the workings of a turbulent Middle Eastern nation. Bassam “Barry” Al Fayeed, the younger son of the dictator of a war-torn nation, ends a self-imposed 20-year exile to return to his homeland, accompanied by his American wife and children, for his nephew’s wedding. Barry’s reluctant homecoming leads to a dramatic clash of cultures as he is thrown back into the familial and national politics of his youth.

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reasons why jason grace should’ve had sea sickness as canon
  • jason and hazel would’ve bonded more, since she looked up to him and all
  • it would make for a really great entry like “Hazel was surprised to hear retching noises that - for the first time - weren’t coming from her.” or something
  • and they could have conversations and hangout below decks where it doesn’t feel so rocky and play cards and talk
  • and just… jason+hazel bonding stuff
  • also it makes sense because percy feels really queasy whenever he boards a plane and feels turbulance
  • like it would actually make sense because i have a feeling there were a lot of rough waters???? and storms and monsters just churning up the boat???
  • remember the time percy was poisoned? jason and percy could both be rushing to thhe bathroom and the same time and would race to the bathroom and plan quick routes and just gro completeLY OVERBOARD WITH TRYING TO GET TO THE TOILET FASTER THAN THE OTHER
  • and did i mention that jason is the son of zeus and it would just make sense
  • like
  • rick
  • why did you eff up this
Turbulence ~ Part 2 ~ A Michael Imagine

Requested

Part 1

I stepped back and shut the door to the van.  People were everywhere and a few put their hands up to the windows to try and see through the tinted glass.  I sat down and brought my knees into my chest, watching as people moved around outside in a blur.  

“Just a few minutes,” I kept telling myself.  In a few minutes the boys would be past the check in desks and through the side door of security.  At that point no one would be able to get to them and everyone would disperse.  I could go then.  Just keep my head down and take big steps and I’ll be back safe with Michael in no time.

Michael. The look on his face just a few moments ago was still burned into the front of my mind.  He had looked mad.  I originally thought he was mad at security but what if he was mad at me? Mad at the fact that I didn’t jump after him?  Or maybe upset that he had to deal with me at all in the first place.  As these thoughts persisted the driver climbed back into the front seat of the van.  He adjusted the mirror and spotted my reflection balled up in the back seat.

“You know in order to fly you actually have to get on the plane,” he chuckled, trying to make the mood light.

“Sorry I’ll get out.  I just was waiting until I wouldn’t be noticed,” I replied.  I reached for the handle but his words stopped me.

“That boyfriend of yours sure noticed you,” he said shaking his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, slightly concerned by the way he said that. The man turned in his seat to face me before answering.

“Lets just say that I’ve seen my fair share of things while working for bands over the years but a musician starting a fistfight with his head of security was new for me.”  My eye’s widened and it took me a second to come out of my shocked state.

“WHAT?! Is he okay?  Is he hurt?  Oh my god what happened?” I managed to get out in one breath.  The driver just turned back around and chuckled again.

“I guess it depends on your definition of ‘okay’,” he said.  “You better get out kid.  I have to take this van back.”

Without saying a word I thrust the door open and stepped out onto the concrete. Fans were still everywhere but in small groups rather than one mass mob.  I pulled up my hood and tucked my hair to one side.  

Under normal circumstances I didn’t mind meeting fans.  They almost always put a smile on Michael’s face, which I loved. I’d only ever had a couple interactions with people who liked the boys’ music that went negatively.  I didn’t mind answering questions about the boys, well within reason.  Some things I was asked I was glad to not know the answer to.  I’ve also let girls in on phone calls if they approached me while I was talking to Michael.  This situation however was not a normal circumstance, plus I had a deadline and needed to catch the flight.  

I was watching where I walked but occasionally caught fans looking at me, some even pointing, and saying things to those around them.  I put on a small smile while checking the signs for what direction I was supposed to be headed.  Thankfully I had taken my ticket with me instead of letting Michael hold on to it like I normally do.  Finally finding the line to go through security I stopped holding my breath.

Placing my belongings in the tub to be x-rayed, I waited in line trying to imagine what I would find once I made it to the gate.  Would Michael be hurt?  Did the fight last long?  Why did it start in the first place?  

I was motioned forward to walk through the metal detector and then guided over to collect my things.  With a quick smile to one of the guards I headed out into the open area to find my gate and the boys.  

Speed walking my way through people and scanning faces for ones recognizable to me I finally found my gate but didn’t see anyone I knew.  Suddenly I felt a tight grip around my arm that was pulling my backwards.  I spun around to yell at whoever it was and try to pull away but turned to be faced with the boys’ head of security.  I stopped myself from asking where everyone was when I saw his face.  His lip was split on one side of his mouth and there was a dark undertone forming around his left eye.  He looked more menacing than usual.  The driver wasn’t kidding; there was a fight.  At this point I had more questions than answers but continued to stay quiet as he pulled me towards a separate seating area.

The room was tense.  Airport seating was in rows and windows lined the one wall giving off the view to the runway. Everyone was segregated.  None of the boys were sitting together and neither were any of their crew.  The only sound came from Ashton mindlessly tapping on his seat while he listened to his laptop.  I scanned the room until my eyes landed on Michael.  He was stood facing the windows watching the planes move around on the tarmac. I felt a hand let go of me and took it as an opportunity to run over to Michael.  I stopped myself just before I got to him and slowly stepped beside him, slipping my hand into his.  He instantly pulled me in front of him and into his embrace.  I still hadn’t seen his face but he had mine buried into his chest. After a minute or so he spoke.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.  His voice came out shaky.  I looked up at him to find his eyes on the verge of tears and his hands slightly shaking as they rested on my back.

“I’m fine Mikey,” I said.

“I am so sorry,” he said, searching my eyes for any sign of need.  I laid my forehead back against his chest and placed a kiss there. I felt him relax a bit against me and we just stood like that as I listened to the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I was scared you were going to get hurt again like last time,” he whispered, not wanting the attention of everyone in the quiet room.  

“They didn’t hurt me last time.  It was my own fau…”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said louder.  I could hear the anger in his voice.  I wasn’t surprised that he knew.  Until now he was probably just humoring me by letting me make excuses for what had happened last time we were separated at an airport, but after this morning I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to hear it.  He couldn’t have been too upset with me because rather than push me away he just held me closer.  

“Are you alright?” I asked, not moving to look up at his face.

“I am now,” he said.  I pushed back just enough to look up at him.

“What about the fight?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  He didn’t look surprised by my question but glanced around the room. A few of the crew were looking our direction as well as Luke.  All of them had serious looks on their faces.

“We’ll talk on the plane,” he whispered.

A flight attendant walked in just when I was going to press the issue.

“We’re boarding now.  If you would like to follow me,” he said.

Michael let go of me to grab his duffle bag as everyone collected their things and followed the attendant out of the room.  Seconds later his hand was back in mine and we walked together to the door. Their head of security was stood waiting for everyone to be out of the room.  As we past him I couldn’t help but notice the strained look shared between him and Michael.  

We got in line to have our tickets scanned and I searched for mine in my bag. Finding it, Michael took it from me and put it with his to hand to the lady at the desk.  He switched sides with me to be on the side closer to the desk and grabbed my other hand to hold.  We stood there waiting and out of habit I rubbed my thumb up and down his hand. Michael winced and I looked up at him confused.  He just tightened his hold on my hand.  I looked down at our intertwined fingers to see his hand was bruised and puffy and there was a shallow cut in one spot.  I looked back up at him with wide eyes.  Before I could say anything he cut me off.

“We’ll talk on the plane,” he said again.  


~Masterlist~

2

The first full-length flight deck aircraft carrier HMS Argus (I49) in a dazzle camouflage, late 1918. The initial design had two islands with the flight deck running between them. Each island contained one funnel, between which a large net could be strung to stop out-of-control aircraft. The islands were connected by braces with the bridge mounted on top of that bracing, leaving a clear height of 20 feet (6.1 m) for the aircraft on the flight deck. That sounds like a pretty incredible design. After wind tunnel tests revealed dangerous turbulence across the flight deck however, the two islands were deleted. Instead, a bridge underneath her flight deck was fitted, extending from side to side, visible above and to the right of the lifeboats underneath the flight deck in image No. 2. A retractable pilot house in the middle of the flight deck was also added, for use when not operating aircraft; again, visible in the second photograph. She fought in two world wars and in her early years she was used extensively as a test platform to research the optimum aircraft carrier configuration. Scrapped in 1946, she was by no means a brilliant design herself, but with her flush-decked configuration she, like Dreadnought, was a revolutionary beginning.

Robert

Age: 30

Straight

Rob loves his life. He’s got the best job in the world, has dated all the prettiest girls, and has a bitching loft apartment over the Dark Grotto Pub. His days are lazy and peaceful, and his nights are full of booze, drugs and sex. What more could a guy ask for?

Rob was never the kind to want to settle down. Not ever. Not until he met Zoe on the night of her 21st birthday. So young and wild, and free.Way out of his league, for sure. There was the age gap, but who was really counting?

But as tempting as she is their relationship has been nothing but turbulent. He can never figure out how to keep her satisfied or at least stable enough to actually be a part of “them”.

For now he’s content with their lusty nights in his place over the pub, but in the back of his mind he knows this can’t go on forever.

anonymous asked:

Salam everyone.. Please dua that my sins are forgiven and forgotten so no one talks about it and create turbulence to my current life.. Jazakallah khairan and you're all in my duas as well..

This morning I saw a landscape that screamed ‘doom prophet’ to me more than anything I had seen before.

Picture, if you will, a wide open scrape against the earth. An abandoned oil field mine site, looking like muddy clay, like the ruts left behind by wheels on dirt roads only it stretches as far as you can see. Above it is all fog and haze against a backdrop of dreary, low-hanging rain clouds.

And through the distance, attracting your eye before anything else, a gas flare. The flames seem to roll in on themselves like a turbulent, angry spirit. Beyond it, you catch a glimpse of another flare in the fog.

When you return your eyes to the road you see the sign finally. “EAST MINE RECLAMATION IN PROGRESS” it says.

In startlingly bright white letters.

you guys, i’m literally freaking out over our iceland trip.

mostly i’m afraid of plummeting into the ocean as our plane crashes.
that feeling your stomach gets as the plane drops, like you’re going over the top of a roller coaster, and the turbulence that won’t stop as you’re free falling tens of thousands of feet in a tiny metal structure, just holding onto the arm rest as if that will do anything at all.

which is fucked, cos i’m fine on domestic flights. and i’ve flown to europe before. i don’t know what my deal is this time. 

but i’m also afraid of: a volcanic eruption; not understanding any of the road signs there; being unable to find a suitable camping spot each night; being intimidated by the locals when/if we need to ask for help; not having a cell phone to call 911 if needed; being drenched the entire time since it’ll most likely being raining & none of our stuff will dry since we’ll be living in a van for a week; fighting with hayes over directions and him not wanting to pull off the road every 5mins for me to take photos of the landscape; being angry at each other on our actual 5 year wedding anniversary because we’ll be late getting to the airport; getting stopped at customs in boston and missing my connecting flight to denver (yeah, we land in boston at 5:30pm, then my colorado flight takes off at 7:50pm)…

so, any recommendations for a fast drying towel?

My sleep and I are on a turbulent path…When I am free sleep doesnt come..When sleep wants to come I have work…I will just have to value my sleep more if we are going to be friends again…
-M
—  #HiddenOne

millenniumbakura asked:

🔪!

3) Muse A has been hired to kill muse B. Muse B has been hired to kill muse A.

((I’d have liked the second one rather but let’s go with this ;) also HEY! *waves*))

His way had taken him somewhat of road… or rather into an area quite unusual to his taste. He was used to large cities and the turbulence in the center. Turbulence well enacted for his needs. A crowd of people was so easy to vanish in… this would be a real challenge.

He had the general information about his target. Age, name, a photograph… a few other miniscule bits of knowledge, which were helpful, but in no way or shape providing him with enough to ensure a smooth go of the action.

Also, even though the one who had given him this quite unique contract… was a person he knew for some while. Personally. The other would refrain from furthering false information to lure him into a false sense of security… and yet…
He had been warned that there may be something fishy. Something concerning the other. He would have no choice but to search for more information himself.
All these thoughts and more ran through his head, while his train approached the small town he had been sent to search out his target at…

youtube

Turbulence is found throughout our lives, but rarely is it as startlingly beautiful as in this Slow Mo Guys video. Here they show high-speed videos of ink being injected into water. The resulting plumes are turbulent from the very start, with innumerable folds and eddies billowing outward as the plume expands. The large difference in length scales–from the millimeter-sized curls to the meter-sized length of the plume–is one of the classic characteristics of turbulence and part of what makes turbulent flows so difficult to model computationally. Energy in these flows is generated at the large scales, but it’s dissipated at the very smallest scales through viscosity. This means that to properly model a turbulent flow, you have to capture the largest scales, the smallest scales, and everything in between in order to represent this energy cascade from large to small. It’s a problem that engineers, mathematicians, meteorologists, and physicists have struggled with for more than a century. But, here, at least, we can all just sit back and enjoy the beauty. (Video credit: The Slow Mo Guys)

how could anyone possibly think that voting for donald trump is a good idea? like oooooh yeah, extremist nationalism with a heaping spoonful of racist bullshit, that always ends well