delta (off)

ONE SHOT: Unspoken

Unspoken
Pairing: Clint Barton / Natasha Romanoff (Clintasha, Blackhawk)
Wordcount: 250
Summary: What isn’t said between two people as close as they are actually says everything about who they are to one another.


He isn’t going to lie to her. He knows she’ll see right through it. The truth has always been written in that wrinkle between his eyebrows, in two fingers nocking an arrow to drum a string-hummed tune across a taut bow, so subtle and quiet no one not listening for it would hear.

She isn’t going to make it easy on him. She knows he’ll make it twice as easy for her. The proof has always been written in the darkness of his bruises and the lightness of hers, in two fingers crooked to beckon him into a fight he’ll always answer but never beckons her back to on his end.

They aren’t going to be perfect. They know it doesn’t go that way, not for people like them. The end has always been written in the scars they have and the scars they don’t, in the darkness he spared her and the light she blessed him with.

He isn’t going to lie to her. She isn’t going to make it easy on him. He’ll pull his punches and spare her the darkness, so she’ll come for him with all her ferocity—one way or another—if ever need be, because she owes him that. She’ll knock him senseless and bring the light that belongs there back to his eyes, so he’ll anchor her in her humanity or in a mercy she doesn’t see coming, because he owes her that.

Compassion and responsibility make quiet bedfellows. They don’t need to be perfect.

Prompt:  “ could you write a soulmate au with scotty? maybe with the red string trope and the tugs get in the way of during his job properly but he just ignores it? :))” - @nymphadora-blurryface

Word Count:  2,865

Author’s Note:  AKA: 5 Times Scotty Ignored His String and 1 Time He Didn’t. Because I’m a sucker for those stories. I loved writing this so much. Scotty is such a sweet, precious little bean and having him slowly fall in love with someone like this was just so beautiful to explore. Please enjoy and a always please let me know what you think! Your feedback is precious to me <3


Scotty’s arm gave a violent jolt over the strategy table. He grimaced a reigned his errant limb back in, clasping his hands tightly behind his back.

“Christ,” he hissed, trying to regain his train of thought.

“You all good, Mr. Scott?” Jim asked in that shiteating way he does when he knows damn well that it’s not all good.

“Jus’ ignore it, Sir, I’m trying to,” Scotty retorted, shuffling his feet and sniffing. “Now, as I was saying -”

“Best not to ignore it too long, Mr. Scott,” Jim said with a tip of his head.

“Aye, now as I was saying…”

“Meester Scott, I voss vondering, vhere vould I find - Are you alright?” Chekov appeared in the doorway, his yellow shirt stained with wide smears of grease.

Scotty sat at his desk, one hand over his eyes, the other arm stretched aloft at an odd angle.

“Aye, lad, what are ye lookin’ for?” Scotty let the hand over his eyes fall to his thigh as he looked up at his apprentice.

“Um… Meester Scott…”

“‘S been like this for nigh on twenty minutes,” Scotty griped. “I can’ take it down.”

“Um… should I raise ze Doctor, or…?”

“I’m sure it’ll go away if I wait,” Scotty said, standing and approaching the doorway. The angle of his arm didn’t waver, but he was able to move freely otherwise.

“I vonder vat zey’re doing…” Chekov mused.

“I prefer not to think about it,” Scotty clapped the young Russian on the shoulder. “Now, wha’ are ya lookin’ for?”

Keep reading

6

     While driving down Interstate 5 through Santa Ana, California, you may have spotted this rocket. Even for space fans, identifying this vehicle may be difficult. It is a rare Delta Cryogenic Second Stage (DCSS) for the short lived Delta III rocket. This DCSS has a home at Discovery Cube Orange County, where she acts as an effective billboard for this educational museum. This equipment is appropriately placed near Huntington Beach where this particular payload fairing was manufactured.

     On August 27, 1998, the Delta 259 mission lifted off from Launch Complex 17B at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station in Florida, marking the first flight of a Delta III, carrying the Galaxy 10 communication satellite. During the burn of its first stage, a design flaw in the rocket’s guidance system caused it to violently diverge from its planned trajectory and begin to break up. During the breakup process, the flight termination system was activated by the range safety officer, causing what was left of the rocket to explode. The Galaxy 10 satellite could be seen that night as a flaming ball streaking down until it spectacularly exploded as it hit the Atlantic Ocean. 

     The second flight of a Delta III would take place on May 5, 1999, as the Delta 269 mission flew from the same pad. Thanks to a manufacturing flaw in the Pratt & Whitney RL10B-2 engine, the second stage burn was cut short, causing the stage to tumble into a useless orbit. The Orion 3 communication satellite was written off and a second payload was lost.

     A final flight of the Delta III would take place on August 23, 2000, with the Delta 280 mission, which carried a dummy payload called DM-F3. This time, the flight was a success, but it was too late for the Delta III. The commercial satellite industry took a steep dive in the late 1990s. The more powerful Delta IV was just a few years away from its first flight, and Boeing was pursuing a more conservative Delta II Heavy rocket. These factors, combined with the failures, caused the Delta III to be quietly shelved. Some spare parts from the program were flown on various Delta II and Delta IV flights, and in the late 2000s, Boeing donated this DCSS to Discovery Cube Orange County where it stands today, greeting passersby on Interstate 5.

#BoycottDelta is currently trending on twitter...

and the story appears to be that two men who were having a conversation in Arabic were escorted off a Delta flight for not speaking English.

Source

But, here’s the catch: one of them, the one who recorded the “aftermath” of them being escorted off the plane, is YouTuber Adam Saleh, who is a “YouTube prankster” by profession and is known for doing this kind of thing regularly, i.e. filming pranks on planes for clicks on YouTube. As it so happens, his most recent video was even within the last few days.

Examples:

So the way I see it, either karma came back to bite him in the ass, or this is another one of his “pranks” and he’s manipulating social media and slandering an entire multi-billion dollar corporation to accomplish it.

illumynare  asked:

York and Wash, “it’s just a cut, really.” <3

Wash jumps out of his seat on the Pelican as a figure in gold armour runs up the ramp. York’s entire left side is blackened by smoke, and there appear to be several cracks in his shoulder plate, along with a fissure along the top left side of his helmet.  “What the hell happened to you?” It takes a second for Wash to register the lines of red progressing down through the black of his undersuit - it’s only when drips make their way down onto the gold metal that the picture snaps into place. “You’re bleeding.  Like, a lot.”  Wash yanks the first aid kit off its holder on the wall, starts rifling through it.

“It’s just a cut, really.”  Blood continues to flow from under his helmet, making their way over his breastplate to drip onto the floor.

No shit.”  Wash pulls out a pair of gloves, and multiple packets.  “Can you take off your helmet for me?”

“Yeah - it’s busted, healing unit is offline.” York gingerly removes his helmet and there’s another cascade of red. He looks over the damage to his equipment before tossing it further into the hold. “Looks like you get to play doctor with me this time.”  

“Did you have to word it that way?  Christ, there’s so m– can you take a knee? I can’t see anything properly from here.”

York kneels down while Wash opens and closes compartments on the Pelican walls.  He finally finds towels, and turns his attention back to York.  “Shit, you’re a mess.  I can’t even see where it’s all coming from.”  Wash dabs carefully across York’s scalp, watching for which way the blood drips, parting his hair to look for cuts. It takes a minute to finally find it - the cut itself is only about an inch long and doesn’t look particularly deep, but in the nature of most scalp wounds, it bleeds like a fucker. “Found it.  Lay down.  Here -” Wash hands York a towel. “For your face. You look like you bathed in it.”

“Thanks.”  York takes the towel and mops away the worst of the blood, then holds the cloth against his forehead to keep more from dripping back down.  He lowers himself the rest of the way to the floor and tries to get comfortable while Wash tears open packet after packet of gauze.  He uses a corner of York’s towel to wipe away excess blood that is blocking his view, then presses multiple pieces of gauze over the wound.  York shifts, but doesn’t say anything. “You okay, York?”

“Totally.”  York shifts again.  “It stings, but that’s it.”

“You’re not dizzy? Nauseous? Faint?”  Wash settles next to York, trying to get comfortable while still maintaining pressure on the wound.

“Nope. And for the record,” York added dryly, “If I was feeling faint, I’d make sure to aim myself towards someone’s arms other than yours.”

“You’re on the ground, moron.”  There’s blood coming through the gauze.  With his other hand, Wash hands another packet to York.  “Open this for me?”  York tears it open, holding onto the torn package as he offers the gauze back to Wash, to keep from dirtying it.  Wash accepts the piece, presses it on top of the others without removing them.  “Hey Delta, you there?”

I’m here, Agent Washington.”  

“Could you set a timer? Fifteen minutes?”

Complying. Fifteen minutes starting now.”

They sit in silence for a minute or two, York fidgeting occasionally and drumming his thumbs against his codpiece.  Suddenly Wash stiffens, listening to a voice in his helmet.

“Copy, Boss. Go ahead.”  There’s a pause, then – “York made it to the Pelican as well. Over.”  Another short pause.  “Copy. See you in a minute then. Over and out.”

York half lifts his head before Wash pushes him back down. “What was that about?”

“Carolina, Maine and Wyoming are on their way back - they retrieved their objective but got held up for a bit. They’ll be here in just a couple minutes.”

Shit.”  York pushes Wash’s hand away, starts to sit up before Wash forces him back down again. “Don’t say a word, you hear me?”

Wash gives him the incredulous look that deserves.  “You’re absolutely covered in blood.  You seriously think she wouldn’t notice?”

“She doesn’t have to know it’s mine.”

Another ribbon of blood winds its way through York’s hair before Wash gets the gauze back down. “Yeah well, since you’re staying on the goddamn floor for the next - Delta, please reset the timer?”

Resetting. Fifteen minutes starting now.”

“Since you’re staying on the floor for another fifteen minutes, it’ll be pretty obvious.  Make your peace with it.”

“Now just a m-”  York glares up at him, and Wash applies more pressure, to hold him on the floor rather than to deal with the wound.

“York, stay down, or I’ll put you down.”

A little green figure bursts into light, hovering over York.  “I can assist with that.”

York’s eyes pop wide as Wash hurriedly waves the A.I off.  “No, Delta. I wasn’t being serious. Please… don’t.”

As you wish, Agent Washington.”  Delta flickers and disappears.

“Little green traitor,” York mutters, just as there’s the sound of voices outside the Pelican.  Both men look up as their teammates charge up the ramp, Carolina in the lead.  

Carolina heads toward the cockpit yelling to Niner while Maine carries in their objective, a metal crate the size of a small table.  Wyoming follows and drops heavily into one of the seats along the wall, pulling off his helmet to peer at his teammates with little interest before leaning back and closing his eyes.  The back hatch closes, the engines roar and the Pelican takes off.

Carolina emerges from her discussion with Niner and stops dead at the sight of York and Wash on the floor. She rips off her helmet to get a better view, taking in the drying streaks of blood on York’s face, the coat of it down the front of his armour.  She bypasses York and addresses Wash instead.  “Is he okay?  What happened?”  

“Dunno what happened, but yeah, he’s okay.”  Wash looks down at the gauze again to escape her gaze.  “With his healing unit down h–”  

Carolina turns away from Wash abruptly, glaring at York.  “Your healing unit is broken?  You blew up again, didn’t you?” she asks, accusingly.  “What was it this time?  Mine?  Grenade?  Heat guided missile?”

York gives her a winsome smile, but it falters under her withering look.  “At least I got you guys in before it happened. Turned out fine. I came back.”  

Just as abruptly, Carolina returns her attention to Wash and leans down to get a closer look.  “Going to need stitches?”

“Probably.  Not many.”

Carolina straightens. “Get him down to medical as soon as we get back. Agent York -” her next words carry far less heat as her attention switches yet again, “- I will see you after debriefing.”  Without another word, Carolina walks back through into the cockpit, and the door closes behind her.

Wash lets out a low whistle and checks to make sure the gauze hasn’t shifted off the cut.  “Glad it’s you and not me, man.”  He looks over and is surprised to see York smiling.

“Nah, it’s good.” York closes his eyes and resumes his drumming against his armour, still grinning.  “It’s all good.”

Playlist for an anxious Tenko~

I am so sorry this took so long,, Schools been a huge dump

Here’s your playlist!

Again, I’m so sorry this took so long,,

~Mod Leon (I swear I’m not dead)

youtube

University of Texas ~ Kappa Alpha Psi
Knuck If You Buck 2 Stroll Off 👌

anonymous asked:

I have this head canon that i just NEED to share with someone. We all know Theta keeps North up, so when Theta finally feels safe and comfy North will just crash anywhere. when he does do this Theta guards him like nothing else, appearing in front of people talking a bit to loudly and tell them North is sleeping. even convincing Delta to help fend off York from messing with North.

omg this is to cute. I can just imagine York finding North asleep on the in the training room floor or somewhere else that he really shouldn’t be sleeping and going to go shake him awake and then just tiny little Theta pops up to stop him from doing just that.

when York is about to say something about how “this isn’t really the right time or place to be sleeping” Delta shows up telling York all the benefits of sleep. York then says something about how he can’t argue with the two of them and helps guard North for a bit because York has also been a bit concerned with how little sleep North has been getting and wants to help him get all he can.

Unexpected - Owen Grady x Reader

Prompt sent in by Anon: hii i was wondering if you could do an imagine where you work with owen and the raptors and you both act like you hate each other but, in reality, you secretly really like each other? ((sorry if this is confusing)) :)

A/N: Been going through a bit of writer’s block, but I found the angstiest playlist I could on spotify and just went for it.

“You could just say excuse me.” You crossed your arms and stayed put as Owen was trying to push around you on the cat walk. 

Owen Grady had ruined your life. And he continues to ruin it day after day. Literally everything with him was a fight with him. He could never just agree with anything you were training the raptors to do. He was so protective and so, well… so alpha.

“You could stay out of my way.” Owen retorted. His unreadable eyes smoldered. You didn’t understand why he was so flirty and chummy with all his other employees, but with you, everything was a challenge.

“Whatever.” You muttered.

It was like that day after day. But even with all the fights, you and Owen always somehow ended up next to each other. For every work break, drill with the raptors, or locking the paddock up for the evening. You were always side-by-side.

It was magnetic, fighting with Owen. You wanted to fight with him. It sparked a fire inside of you that you feared you’d never be able to put out again.

//

“How about we just alter this drill a little bit.” You explained, pointing down at the clip board, “if we started–“

Owen was already shifting his weight impatiently. “No, (Y/N). The drill runs fine the way it is.”

“Does it?” You challenged him. “How many times has Delta gone off the path in the past week. Huh?”

Owen blinked at you, and pursed his lips. For a second you thought you saw his scowl break, as if he wanted to smile or laugh. It just made you even angrier. What was it going to take for Owen to take you seriously?

“Look, alpha.” You snapped at him. Angrily clicking your pen without even thinking about it. “If you don’t want to work with me, can you just tell me so I can go get another job? Maybe transfer to the petting zoo—like that would be way more enjoyable than coming into work with your grumpy ass every day.”

The words spilled out of your mouth before you even knew what you were saying. But you stood by them, and resisted the urge to slap your hand over your face and run away screaming.

Owen took one step closer towards you. You could see the clear definition of his arms underneath his button down shirt and vest. He gave you a quick once over with his striking green eyes. He pulled the pen out of your hands as he pushed past you.  

“My office. Now.”

You knew you had no choice but to follow him.

//

You attempted to walk into his office with confidence, but all you felt like doing was knocking everything off his desk in your anger. Owen was waiting for you, his hands on his hips, jaw clenched.

You prepared yourself for the worst.

Nothing could have prepared your for what Owen said next.

“I love you.”

You practically choked on your own spit as Owen began pacing back and forth, his hands still on his waist.

“Excuse me?” You finally managed to spit out.

“I love you. And I have for a long time.” Owen shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Every day, we work together and I never thought I would be with someone I was working with.” He crossed the room until he almost had closed the gap. “You never take no for an answer, and I love that, I need that. I need someone who challenges me. You’re relentless.”

You didn’t know what to say. You kept moving your mouth, hoping words, the right words, would come out. But you couldn’t make a sound.

Owen tuned away from you, and leaned on his desk when he realized you had nothing to say. “I shouldn’t have said anything, (Y/N). I’m sorry. I never gave you any indication that I cared for you. I shouldn’t have-“

Giving up on words, with your heart pounding, you were already on your way to him. You flung yourself into his arms, and didn’t waste any time crashing your lips onto his. 

It was overwhelming. The warmth of his mouth, and the way he pulled you on top of him as he fell backwards onto the top of his desk. You heard the crashing of trinkets and pens falling off the desk but you had no capacity to care.

You grated your hips into his as you kissed, and it felt simultaneously like sweet relief and prolonged torture.

You didn’t know you wanted him this badly. But suddenly it felt so obvious and new and familiar and reckless. Owen sighed your name loudly as his hands gently tugged at the bottom of your shirt. Your hands just about had the buckle of his belt undone when you heard screaming coming from the paddock.

“Pig loose!”

“No!” Owen groaned, laying his head back frustrated and defeated. “Not again!”

“This is what I was talking about.” You said, sitting up while still straddling him on the desk. Your lips were raw, and you could still feel the burn of his stubble on your face. “If we just changed that one–“

Owen laughed as you both scrambled down from the desk. Someone was shouting for Owen outside the office.

“Well..” Owen looked bashful, running a hand through his hair. “To be continued?”

“Uh, yes.” You said breathlessly, trying to take stock of what just happened. “To be continued.” Owen took one last look at you before walking out the door.

You glanced around at the mess both of you had made of the office. Papers were strewn about the floor, and you had shattered a coffee mug over. You guess you did end up knocking everything off his desk after all.