Request: I’ll be a bitch and ask for 2 one-shots. You could do both, one of them or neither. Could you write 8 with Winn Schott and 20 with Ray Palmer pretty please?😙
‘20: “I’m going to tell my children Santa’s a pervert.”’
a/n: i died writing this; plus dat gif. Rip Jules.
Ray is ecstatic when this time of year rolls around. He started decorating the Waiverider the day after Thanksgiving. Not just Christmas decor either; Hanukkah has to be recognized as well. Ray doesn’t discriminate. Honestly, it would be cute…if you weren’t hit with a flying dreedle this morning.
You’re met with a string of tinsel when you enter the main room. Sputtering stray strands, you glare up at your fiance; who’s nailing it to the doorframe, wearing a long Santa Claus hat that ends just below his butt. “Oh, hey honey! Ho, ho, ho; merry Christmas! Or happy Hanukkah! Whatever works, I guess!” he grin like a Cheshire cat, going back to the nail.
Giggling, you pawl at the white pompom, making him startle; almost hitting his thumb with the hammer. “You know, this hat ends at the right spot.” you smirk, watching him step down from the ladder. “You’re like a…like a sexy Santa.” you purr, pulling the collar of his ruby red sweater, which makes him blush.
He laughs nervously, peering down at you. The hammer rest in front of this stomach and lowers ever so slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say sexy…” he snorts, walking around you to put the hammer on the table. “But I do have a present for you!” he exclaims excitedly, spinning on his heel to find you pressed up against him.
Watching the way his adam’s apple bobs, you bite your lip, running your hands up his chest. “See, that could sound soooo wrong if it wasn’t you…” you pause, “I’m going to tell my children Santa’s a pervert.” you snicker in his ear, eyeing how his jaw clenches. “Because, I mean, really, he is.” you shrug, peppering kisses along his neck.
Ray giggles; hands descending down your body and pulling your waist. His doe eyes sparkling wide, he smiles from ear to ear. “No! You can’t tell our children that! It would ruin the holidays for them!” he argues, “Now do you want your present or not? Sexy Santa doesn’t have all day!” he chuckles, grabbing your hands.
A sigh escapes your mouth and you nod your head. Ray gives you a cheeky smirk, pecking your cheek before going to move. Pressing your palm to his chest, you stop him; your gray shirt sleeve riding up. “Wait, is it you? Do I get to unwrap you?!” you ask happily.
Whining, he nibbles on his lip, “…Later.” he confirms, sneaking around the desk to grab the medium sized box with snowman wrapping paper. “Tada!” he rejoices, placing the gift in your hands. Immediately, you tear the paper off, finding a small leather book with (your first initial).P. “Y/N Palmer.” Ray mutters, blushing, “I know it’s early, but-”
“I love it.” you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. Unlatching it, you open the book, finding notes on every page, all starting with ‘To my Y/N’. Tears begin pooling at your eyes, “Aww, Ray…” you blubber, attacking him with a hug, “I love you, sexy Santa!” you sniffle, kissing his grinning face.
Without a warning, Ray’s hands snake around your thighs, lifting you up on the table. “Okay, you can unwrap me!” he smirks, placing your hands on his chest. “Wait,” he mumbles, running to the other side of the room; the pompom dangling against his back. He slaps a light green bow on his heart before coming back to you. “Okay, now you can unwrap me!” he says cheekily.
Timing refers to whether the cylinder has turned and precisely lined up the chamber that is going to fire with the forcing cone on the rear of the barrel, BEFORE the hammer falls and fires the round. If the timing is slightly off (not uncommon with inexpensive or old guns) the bullet will be jumping across the gap before the barrel is lined up and some of the bullet is likely to be scraped off and blow out the side of the revolver. It’s kind of a small shower of lead to the sides of the cylinder. It’s actually somewhat dangerous if you have somebody standing to the side. Obviously bad timing, that’s scraping bullets, is not good for accuracy since you’re re-shaping the round bullet as you fire.
The fix calls for a skilled gunsmith to adjust the ratchet and pawl mechanism at the rear of the cylinder that turns the cylinder when you pull the trigger or pull back the hammer on a single action. They also may adjust the cylinder stop, under the cylinder, that drops into the detents on the side of the cylinder to lock the position each time for firing.
Request: I need an angst fluff with future Barry. Like reader died but she traveled time and finds future Barry and just imagine his reaction when he sees her
a/n: the angst……damn yall tryin to kill me…kill jules…..*sighs* if only I was pretty enough for him….
WARNING: THERE’S SO MUCH ANGST YOU MIGHT DIE
Stepping the blue holographic door you created, your black Vans hit the cracked pavement. Huh, so this is 2024 Central City. It doesn’t look too different. Clicking the watch on your wrist, the door disappears behind you. Okay, now all you have to do is actually find the Scarlet Speedster to give him a message from past Barry… Yeah, don’t ask.
As if on cue, a familiar gust of wind blows your jean jacket and you remove the hair from your face, grinning at the leather-clad man. He got a new suit! There’s a gold belt instead of his usual red and a little more yellow. “Barry! I found you!” you squeak, watching him take of his coil, letting his long locks fall over his eyebrows. “Look how long your hair is…” you breathe out, grinning while you move closer.
Barry takes a step back, dull green eyes shining with tears. “I… I can’t do this.” he whispers, swallowing harshly. You scrunch your eyebrows together as he covers his face with his pale hands. “It took m-me years! Years to a-accept you were g-gone!” he fumes, getting himself worked up. His shoulders shake vigorously in the suit; almost vibrating.
“Gone?” you question, black tank top pooling at your stomach as you bend to the right faintly. You aren’t one hundred percent sure, but you think Barry is having a mental breakdown in front of your eyes. This is worse than what he was like when his parents died. “Where did I go?” you ask innocently.
His straight brown locks dangle behind his ears when his head tilts back. Cheeks are stained with wet salty tears that also hang on his eyelashes. “You died, Y/N.” Barry chokes out, peering at you; lip quivering. “I c-can’t do this. I-it’s like looking-looking at an angel… You’re dead!” he shouts, balling his hands into fists at the side of his head. “You’re dead!” he hisses again, gritting his teeth.
Sucking in a deep breath, you watch him crumble in on himself, unsure of what to do. This isn’t the man you know back in 2017. Barry‘s mouth hangs open while he shakes his head, long darker brown hair swaying in the wind. “Don’t give up, please, don’t give up.” you whimper, repeating past Barry’s words as you step forward. “Barry, please, look at me.” you say in a small voice, cupping his cheek.
Those same eyes stare back at you, holding buckets of water. Enough to fill an ocean. Standing up as tall as you’re able to, you brush his hair off his forehead, hearing his breath hitch. “I love you, Barry Allen.” you hum, leaning up to connect your lips. His upper one is pressed just above yours and he feels your palm against his chest curling on the leather.
The kiss is one of those unmoving ones; both of your eyes are shut. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tightly to his body. His white eyelids squeeze so hard as he concentrates all his energy on you. You feel his gloves collecting the fabric of your tank top and you know you have to stop.
Slowly, you remove yourself from him, trying not to break when he shakes his head, pawling at you while tears fall. “I have to go, Barry. I’m sorry.” you cry, tapping your watch.
“No, no, please, please!” Barry begs, reaching out for you helplessly, hair in his face.
You sniffle, opening the door. “I’m so sorry, Barry.” you shake your head; water dripping off your nose. “Don’t give up.” you whisper, walking through the threshold.
“No! Y/N don’t leave me!” the speedster shouts, throat becoming raw. “Please!” he cries, watching the door vanish.
Andrzej Wrona o Pawle Zagumnym:
“Dzień dobry Panie Pawle.
Okazja jest wyjątkowa, więc strój musi być odpowiedni. Kończysz, w końcu kończysz swoją karierę. Niby mówi się że karierę to miał Michael Jordan, ale wydaje mi się, że Ty też jesteś jedną z tych osób, które mogą mówić że miały kariery siatkarskie. Mówię w końcu, bo już nie będziesz zdenerwował mnie i innych środkowych swoim rozegraniem nieprzewidywalnym i chociażby dzisiaj na ostatnim treningu w Twoim życiu dalej wkurzałem się, że nie wiem co wystawisz, więc cieszę się, że kończysz.
A tak na poważnie dzisiaj oczywiście wszyscy będą Ci dziękować za wszystkie medale, puchary, które zdobyłeś. Ja chciałem Ci podziękować za jeden medal, ktory zdobyliśmy razem. Ty oczywiście miałeś ogromny, ogromny wkład w niego.
Tutaj, z tylu mam taki napis "Little things make big days” i ta mała rzecz (medal z MŚ 2014), którą zdobyłem razem z Tobą sprawiła, że miałem największy dzień w swoim życiu i to życie się toczy tak, jak się toczy, więc za to Ci dziękuję.
A tak prywatnie chciałem Ci podziękować za to, że jesteś idealnym przykładem na to, że nie powinno się oceniać ludzi po wyglądzie i wcale nie mówię tutaj o twoich rudych włosach, tylko o tym, że jak Cię nie znałem i grałem tylko na przeciwko Tobie, to wydawało mi się, że jesteś strasznym gburem, i że generalne nie lubisz ludzi, i że bycie z Tobą w jednym zespole, to nie jest nic fajnego i potem Cię poznałem i się okazalo, że jest wręcz odwrotnie, że jesteś duszą do towarzystwa z mega fajnym poczuciem humoru i z taką dobrą, konkretną ripostą.
Więc życzę Ci po prostu żebyś był dyrektorem sportowym takim jak byłeś graczem. Wszyscy wiedzą, że oczywiście idealnie nadajesz się do tej roli, do pomiatania ludźmi, do zarządzania nimi, do wyciągania konsekwencji kiedy zrobią coś źle. Więc życzę Ci powodzenia w tej nowej roli. Mam nadzieję, że ten medal, który zdobyliśmy razem nie jest ostatnim, który zdobyliśmy będąc w jednej drużynie. Oczywiście Ty już nie jako gracz, tylko jako dyrektor. Więc mam nadzieję, że jako dyrektor razem zdobędziemy.
Powodzenia Panie Pawle i dzięki za wszystko co zrobiłeś dla polskiej siatkówki i dla mnie też.
Dziękuję Ci bardzo, trzymam za Ciebie kciuki!“
Remembering MyselfStephen Swartz // Dreams Won’t WaitSteven Marr & Original Me // Down The RoadC2C // Between UsElenne feat. Mothica // We Are AliveTerravita // The Final Blow Aku // KidsRhodz feat. Besnine // The Next Episode (San Holo Remix)Dr Dre feat. Snoop Dogg // Tokyo (Subranger Remix) Ark Patrol // Summer (Club Killers Festival Trap Remix) Calvin Harris // Zelda - Song Of Storms (Deon Custom Remix)Deon Custom // Help Our Souls (Urban Contact Remix)Nihils // Animals (Gryffin Remix) Maroon 5 // America (Young Bombs Remix) XYLØ // Hello (Adele cover) Stephen Swartz // BBHMM (Young Prince Version)Rihanna // Set My Heart On Fire (Radio Edit)PAWL // The Others (NGHTMRE Remix)Slumberjack feat. KLP // Closer Lemaitre feat. Jennie A // Tennis Court (Flume Remix) Lorde // Robot LoveKlaypex ft. GRÉTA // MaybeAlina Baraz & Galimatias // Secrets (Diplo Remix)Tiësto & KSHMR feat. Vassy // Let Her Go (CAKED UP Remix) Passenger // Trap Queen (Onderkoffer Remix) Fetty Wap // Suga Suga (Arman Cekin & PLS&TY Remix)Baby Bash // High With MeYahtzel // Walk The AvalancheAtlantic Cascade // Wave Board Tarro // Bullet TrainStephen Swartz
Unpowered Ankle Exoskeleton Takes the Load Off a Long Hike
Evolution has had four million years to tinker with the locomotion experiment called walking on two feet. With that much time for natural selection to keep what works and chuck what doesn’t, there wouldn’t seem to be much room for improvement.
But what about those tired feet you get after standing on them all day? Or the dull ache that starts creeping up your legs after walking for a few hours? It turns out that even evolutionary fine-tuning leaves room for improvement, and a number of public and private sector engineers have been working on exoskeletons to improve bipedal efficiency.
Researchers have now built an ankle exoskeleton that requires no external chemical or electrical power and decreases the energy a person uses for walking by more than 7 percent, about the equivalent of taking off a 10-pound backpack. The team, from Carnegie Mellon, North Carolina State and the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, say this walking efficiency improvement is on par with units that run on powered motors. It could also be a simple and cheap way to help people whose work keeps them on their feet all day. Learn more and see images below.
Depends on weapon. Degtyaryov pan magazines
(DP28, DPM, DT)
work similarly to conventional magazines. The Lewis gun used a cam on top of the bolt to move a pawl which rotated the magazine body.to feed rounds. Its somewhat similar to belt feed, but instead of pulling a belt through as the bolt moves back and forth, it rotated the drum/pan magazine.