#Naval Gun System

[marketinsight12]

Global Naval Gun System Market was valued at USD 7.25 Billion in 2021 and is expected to reach USD 9.71 Billion by the year 2028, at a CAGR of 4.25%.

Naval Gun System Market- Global Size, Share & Industry Trends | IMR

[ddejavvu]

I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!

You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.

"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."

"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."

"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."

You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.

"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"

"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."

You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.

"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"

"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"

"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.

She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.

"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"

"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."

Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.

You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"

"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."

Your stomach drops.

"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"

"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"

"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.

"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"

"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"

"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.

"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."

"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.

"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"

"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."

"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"

"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.

"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"

"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."

He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."

"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"

"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'

"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"

"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"

She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.

"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."

[rameshjadhav]

Naval Gun System Market Size 2022 Global Industry Investigation by Share, Trends, Growth Factors, and Forecast till 2028

Global Naval Gun System Market was valued at USD 7.25 Billion in 2021 and is expected to reach USD 9.71 Billion by the year 2028, at a CAGR of 4.25%.

A naval gun is artillery attached to a warship, initially used only for naval warfare and later eventually used for shore bombardment and anti-aircraft roles. The period generally refers to weapons that fire tube-launched projectiles and excludes self-propelled projectiles, including torpedoes, rockets, and missiles, and persons thrown overboard, including intensity costs and naval mines. Naval guns are generally classified by caliber (bore diameter), calibers (barrel length defined in multiples of the bore diameter), and a reference model or designation. Some countries include an amendment designation to suggest an extrusion of the original design.

The latest research on the Global Naval Gun System Market provides a comprehensive overview of the market for the years 2022 to 2028. It gives a comprehensive picture of the global Naval Gun System industry considering all significant industry trends, market dynamics, and competitive landscape. In addition, the analysis includes critical information on the Naval Gun System Market status of the main market players, major trends, and future market development opportunities. These research papers are businesses to help readers find information and make decisions that will help them grow their businesses. The study is written with a specific goal in mind: businesses business insights and consultancy to help customers make smart business decisions and achieve long-term success in their particular market areas.

Read More: https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/reports/naval-gun-system-market/

[whencyclopedia]

D-Day was 80 years ago today!

D-Day was the first day of Operation Overlord, the Allied attack on German-occupied Western Europe, which began on the beaches of Normandy, France, on 6 June 1944. Primarily US, British, and Canadian troops, with naval and air support, attacked five beaches, landing some 135,000 men in a day widely considered to have changed history.

Where to Attack?

Operation Overlord, which sought to attack occupied Europe starting with an amphibious landing in northwest France, Belgium, or the Netherlands, had been in the planning since January 1943 when Allied leaders agreed to the build-up of British and US troops in Britain. The Allies were unsure where exactly to land, but the requirements were simple: as short a sea crossing as possible and within range of Allied fighter cover. A third requirement was to have a major port nearby, which could be captured and used to land further troops and equipment. The best fit seemed to be Normandy with its flat beaches and port of Cherbourg.

The Atlantic Wall

The leader of Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler (1889-1945), called his western line of defences the Atlantic Wall. It had gaps but presented an impressive string of fortifications along the coast from Spain to the Netherlands. Construction of gun batteries, bunker networks, and observation posts began as early as 1942.

Many of the German divisions were not crack troops but inexperienced soldiers, who were spending more time building defences than in vital military training. There was a woeful lack of materials for Hitler's dream of the Atlantic Wall, really something of a Swiss cheese, with some strong areas, but many holes. The German army was not provided with sufficient mines, explosives, concrete, or labourers to better protect the coastline. At least one-third of gun positions still had no casement protection. Many installations were not bomb-proof. Another serious weakness was naval and air support. The navy had a mere 4 destroyers available and 39 E-boats while the Luftwaffe's (German Air Force's) contribution was equally paltry with only 319 planes operating in the skies when the invasion took place (rising to 1,000) in the second week.

Neptune to Normandy

Preparation for Overlord occurred right through April and May of 1940 when the Royal Air Force (RAF) and United States Air Force (USAAF) relentlessly bombed communications and transportation systems in France as well as coastal defences, airfields, industrial targets, and military installations. In total, over 200,000 missions were conducted to weaken as much as possible the Nazi defences ready for the infantry troops about to be involved in the largest troop movement in history. The French Resistance also played their part in preparing the way by blowing up train lines and communication systems that would ensure the defenders could not effectively respond to the invasion.

The Allied fleet of 7,000 vessels of all kinds departed from English south-coast ports such as Falmouth, Plymouth, Poole, Portsmouth, Newhaven, and Harwich. In an operation code-named Neptune, the ships gathered off Portsmouth in a zone called 'Piccadilly Circus' after the busy London road junction, and then made their way to Normandy and the assault areas. At the same time, gliders and planes flew to the Cherbourg peninsula in the west and Ouistreham on the eastern edge of the planned landing. Paratroopers of the 82nd and 101st US Airborne Division attacked in the west to try and cut off Cherbourg. At the eastern extremity of the operation, paratroopers of the 6th British Airborne Division aimed to secure Pegasus Bridge over the Caen Canal. Other tasks of the paratrooper and glider units were to destroy bridges to impede the enemy, hold others necessary for the invasion to progress, destroy gun emplacements, secure the beach exits, and protect the invasion's flanks.

The Beaches

The amphibious attack was set for dawn on 5 June, daylight being a requirement for the necessary air and naval support. Bad weather led to a postponement of 24 hours. Shortly after midnight, the first waves of 23,000 British and American paratroopers landed in France. US paratroopers who dropped near Ste-Mère-Église ensured this was the first French town to be liberated. From 3.00 a.m., air and naval bombardment of the Normandy coast began, letting up just 15 minutes before the first infantry troops landed on the beaches at 6.30 a.m.

The beaches selected for the landings were divided into zones, each given a code name. US troops attacked two, the British army another two, and the Canadian force the fifth. These beaches and the troops assigned to them were (west to east):

Utah Beach - 4th US Infantry Division, 7th US Corps (1st US Army commanded by Lieutenant General Omar N. Bradley)

Omaha Beach - 1st US Infantry Division, 5th US Corps (1st US Army)

Gold Beach - 50th British Infantry Division, 30th British Corps (2nd British Army commanded by Lieutenant-General Miles C. Dempsey)

Juno Beach - 3rd Canadian Infantry Division (2nd British Army)

Sword Beach - 3rd British Infantry Division, 1st British Corps (2nd British Army)

In addition, the 2nd US Rangers were to attack the well-defended Pointe du Hoc between Utah and Omaha (although it turned out the guns had never been installed there), while Royal Marine Commando units attacked targets on Gold, Juno, and Sword.

The RAF and USAAF continued to protect the invasion fleet and ensure any enemy ground-based counterattack faced air attack. As the Allies could put in the air 12,000 aircraft at this stage, the Luftwaffe's aerial fightback was pitifully inadequate. On D-Day alone, the Allied air forces flew 15,000 sorties compared to the Luftwaffe's 100. Not one single Allied aircraft was lost to enemy fire on D-Day.

Packing Normandy

By the end of D-Day, 135,000 men had been landed and relatively few casualties were sustained – some 5,000 men. There were some serious cock-ups, notably the hopeless dispersal of the paratroopers (only 4% of the US 101st Air Division were dropped at the intended target zone), but, if anything, this caused even more confusion amongst the German commanders on the ground as it seemed the Allies were attacking everywhere. The defenders, overcoming the initial handicap that many area commanders were at a strategy conference in Rennes, did eventually organise themselves into a counterattack, deploying their reserves and pulling in troops from other parts of France. This is when French resistance and aerial bombing became crucial, seriously hampering the German army's effort to reinforce the coastal areas of Normandy. The German field commanders wanted to withdraw, regroup and attack in force, but, on 11 June, Hitler ordered there be no retreat.

All of the original invasion beaches were linked as the Allies pushed inland. To aid thousands more troops following up the initial attack, two artificial floating harbours were built. Code-named Mulberries, these were located off Omaha and Gold beaches and were built from 200 prefabricated units. A storm hit on 20 June, destroying the Mulberry Harbour off Omaha, but the one at Gold was still serviceable, allowing some 11,000 tons of material to be landed every 24 hours. The other problem for the Allies was how to supply thousands of vehicles with the fuel they needed. The short-term solution, code-named Tombola, was to have tanker ships pump fuel to storage tanks on shore, using buoyed pipelines. The longer-term solution was code-named Pluto (Pipeline Under the Ocean), a pipeline under the Channel to Cherbourg through which fuel could be pumped. Cherbourg was taken on 27 June and was used to ship in more troops and supplies, although the defenders had sunk ships to block the harbour and these took some six weeks to fully clear.

Operation Neptune officially ended on 30 June. Around 850,000 men, 148,800 vehicles, and 570,000 tons of stores and equipment had been landed since D-Day. The next phase of Overlord was to push the occupiers out of Normandy. The defenders were not only having logistical problems but also command issues as Hitler replaced Rundstedt with Field Marshal Günther von Kluge (1882-1944) and formally warned Rommel not to be defeatist.

Aftermath: The Normandy Campaign

By early July, the Allies, having not got further south than around 20 miles (32 km) from the coast, were behind schedule. Poor weather was limiting the role of aircraft in the advance. The German forces were using the countryside well to slow the Allied advance – countless small fields enclosed with trees and hedgerows which limited visibility and made tanks vulnerable to ambush. Caen was staunchly defended and required Allied bombers to obliterate the city on 7 July. The German troops withdrew but still held one-half of the city. The Allies lost around 500 tanks trying to take Caen, vital to any push further south. The advance to Avranches was equally tortuous, and 40,000 men were lost in two weeks of heavy fighting. By the end of July, the Allies had taken Caen, Avranches, and the vital bridge at Pontaubault. From 1 August, Patton and the US Third Army were punching south at the western side of the offensive, and the Brittany ports of St. Malo, Brest, and Lorient were taken.

German forces counterattacked to try and retake Avranches, but Allied air power was decisive. Through August 1940, the Allies swept southwards to the Loire River from St. Nazaire to Orléans. On 15 August, a major landing took place on the southwest coast of France (French Riviera landings) and Marseille was captured on 28 August. In northern France, the Allies captured enough territory, ports, and airfields for a massive increase in material support. On 25 August, Paris was liberated. By mid-September, the Allied troops in the north and south of France had linked up and the campaign front expanded eastwards pushing on to the borders of Germany. There would be setbacks like Operation Market Garden of September and a brief fightback at the Battle of the Bulge in December 1944, but the direction of the war and ultimate Allied victory was now a question of not if but when.

[goosita]

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚘𝚢𝚜

𝚊 𝚃𝚘𝚙 𝙶𝚞𝚗//𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝙰𝚄

“𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝��𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜.”

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Lieutenant Coriolanus Snow (callsign: Snake) is one of the top pilots at District 12’s Naval Air Station. Son of the infamous Capt. Crassus “Rosebud” Snow and a highly decorated pilot in both training and combat missions, he will do whatever it takes to earn his place at the Capitol’s elite Fighter Weapons School and follow in his father’s footsteps. Only the nation’s best and brightest naval aviators are invited to attend, and Lt. Snow is going to be one of them.

When Lt. Snow’s WSO, Lt. Sejanus “Baby” Plinth, is injured in a training exercise, you are called in to replace him as Snow’s backseater. Your job is to operate the weapons systems of the aircraft and control the radars used for communications in the air. The only problem is that you can’t stand the cocky pilot. He’s impulsive, he has a bad habit of leaving his wingman, he doesn’t play by the rules. You’re careful, calculated. The safety of your crew and the safety of your aircraft always come first. For the sake of your duty to Panem, you two will just have to find a way to work together and get along.

aviation term index

playlist

moodboards

prologue

part one

part two (coming soon!)

(masterlist format ib: @floralcyanide)

(some quotes taken directly from Top Gun (dir. Tony Scott, 1986) i do not own the film or script.)

[responsivethoughts]

The F-14 Tomcat

The F-14 Tomcat, an iconic American supersonic fighter jet, gained fame for its swing-wing design and role as a carrier-based interceptor. Developed by Grumman for the US Navy, it entered service in 1974 and was retired in 2006.

The F-14 Tomcat garnered notable performance records during its illustrious service. In 1974, an F-14A set a world speed record, reaching 1,606.342 miles per hour (2,585.086 kilometers per hour) over a 500-kilometer closed-circuit course. Its remarkable speed capabilities were underscored by its ability to exceed Mach 2.

In combat, the F-14 demonstrated exceptional effectiveness, participating in pivotal military operations such as the Gulf War and Operation Enduring Freedom. Its swing-wing design and Pratt & Whitney TF30 turbofan engines endowed it with agility and versatility, enabling precise maneuvering and long-range engagements.

Armed with radar-guided missiles and a powerful radar system, it was designed for air superiority and fleet defense. The Tomcat played a crucial role in various conflicts, including the Gulf War. Its advanced avionics and long-range capabilities made it a formidable adversary.

The F-14's advanced radar systems, including the Hughes AN/AWG-9 and later the AN/APG-71, facilitated multi-target tracking and engagement, particularly with the AIM-54 Phoenix missile system.

Beyond its performance in flight, the F-14 left an indelible mark on popular culture, immortalized in the film "Top Gun." Its enduring legacy as a symbol of American military power and aviation excellence continues to captivate enthusiasts and historians alike.

Though retired, its legacy endures as a symbol of naval aviation prowess and technological innovation.

[otgo-brooklyn]

Older Brother!Slider with Baby Brother!Ice

Okay, so another contribution rant to the Top Gun Fandom:

Big Brother Slider, but ONLY, ONLY to Ice. And not the generic sibling relationship, no, but Ice is his Baby Brother.

For any who don't have that 'Baby' Sibling, as an eldest child, let me explain: A sibling is a younger, less better, version of yourself because your parents were a bit delusional and now there is Another™.

HOWEVER, a Baby Sibling, a BABY Sibling? No, they are essentially your own child, typically the youngest, they are your pride and joy, and when I tell you that with a Baby Sibling you become so protective over them you would commit horrible crimes for them- literally becoming an attack dog on a leash held by said Baby Sibling, that is a true Baby Sibling/Older Sibling relationship. The minute they are born they're just, your child, like so what the birth certificate says that their parents are my parents, that's obviously a lie. They legitimately become your child in more ways than one, whose only role in life is to be happy and loved. And this is SO the relationship between Slider and Ice.

Ice is the Baby Sibling™, with Slider as the protective older brother. Slider makes sure that Ice is happy, and cared for/loved, protected, everything for the Baby™. I cannot explain enough how much I love this head-cannon, and all the proof I'll ever need to explain it is this one GIF;

Look at Slider, the protective arm around the shoulder, the glare, the judgement in his very being, the way his jaw tenses-, compared to Ice, who is just sitting there, not even noticing, focusing on something else all happy like (Or as happy as Ice can get while in Ice-man mode (Or as happy as one can get when translating languages, if you saw my other post about Russian!Ice ;D)).

Slider nearly getting kicked out of the Top Gun program due to beating a fellow pilot unconscious because he DARED shit talk Ice

So they never gave Slider a DOB/specified age in Top Gun, but his actor, Rick Rossovich is 2 years older than Val Kilmer, so that only furthers the point of Slider's Older Brother Agenda

One time Goose was showing Ice how to cartwheel after Ice was interested in how he did it on the deck of the ship they were stationed on and Slider refused to allow Ice to do it because "What if he falls and cracks his skull open on the tarmac Goose!"

When reassured that Ice cracking his skull open isn't going to happen, and Goose was only going to demonstrate, Slider still wont budge on it. Ice never learned how to do a cartwheel to this day

Ice's foot getting caught in the track and wheels of a stationary, not turned on/working tank on accident and one singular, quiet, whispered "ow" after pulling it out of said track/wheel, was all it took to have Slider screaming his head off carrying Ice into medical absolutely positive that Ice just "Broke his own god-damn ankle, GET A MEDIC-"

Someone shoving past Ice on their way to the mess hall in a rush, causing Ice to stumble back literally 2 steps, and Slider getting in their face, slamming them into a wall with a "I swear you put your hands on Ice one more time, your not gonna have hands AT ALL"

He then slings his arm around Ice's shoulder and directs him to the mess hall, glaring at any poor soul who dared look in Ice's direction

They were at the bar and a woman started to approach Ice, who, of course was not noticing (he only has eyes for a 5'7" gremlin named Mav), and Slider shuts that down REAL QUICK. Like, no, not today Lilith, pick a different naval guy-

Give Mav The Talk when he notices Mav giving eyes to Ice, and Goose because Slider can never be too sure, and everyone observing this is sitting there like 'what the actual fuck' after Slider threatens to, and I quote, "French braid your fuckin' nervous system you shitty dwarf" towards Maverick amongst other colorful threats

It gets to the point where Slider is so protective over Ice, people don't ask Ice anything without looking to Slider for some kind of acceptance or denial, like;

Hollywood: Hey Ice do you wanna- Slider, the coldest look ever seen, actively dropping the temperature in the room while promising a slow and tortuous death: Hollywood: -help me figure out this trajectory angle equation for this [classified] mission? Ice, absolutely oblivious to the entire situation: Sure? I guess?

Its single-handedly the funniest and most terrifying thing to ever happen in Top Gun history, aside from whoever decided to put Maverick Mitchell in a plane

And the cherry on top is that Ice DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE at the entire situation

When someone tries saying how terrifying Slider is to Ice he just brushes it off, like, "Oh Slider? No he's very nice, he even walks with me wherever I have to go in the day. He's all bark and no bite"

And everyone in the immediate vicinity just looking at Ice either with pity or like he's stupid because he doesn't know

He never figures it out either

(This overprotectiveness doubles, if not triples when he meets baby Bradley Bradshaw, and Slider just cant compute because now there is another person who has my undying love and protection-)

(Goose once lost Bradley on a very important, very large Naval destroyer and the entirety of the Top Gun Class of '86 is frantically searching the entire ship before Viper finds out and one of them just stumbling into Slider sitting on a couch with Ice and Bradley just absolutely passed out, sleeping like a brick, essentially using him as human furniture, and the look Slider gives them promises a 100 years of death if they wake either of them up-)

(After Goose's death when baby Bradley lives with IceMav, he just clings onto Slider whenever he's over because "I feel safest with Pops, but Pops feels safest with Uncle Sli', so I'm safest-est with Uncle Sli'")

(Mav doesn't know whether to cry because that is so cute- or be annoyed that Slider is preferred over himself)

(After Bradley reconciles with Mav, he's caught sleeping(read absolutely dead to the world) on Slider's chest like when he was as a child and no one knowing what to do because "Rooster that is a 2-STAR ADMIRAL OF THE US NAVY-" Slider is just like "I'm safest-est", and Bradley sleepily chiming in with a "safest-est" and deciding to just go back to sleep like nothing happened)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The price of a meter

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)   The Klendari War saw the most brutal fighting the galaxy had seen since the days of the Fracture Wars.

On one side you had the Coalition of United Planet, a loose union of several dozen star faring civilizations brought together for economic and military security, and on the other stood the Klendari Empire which had reigned in its corner of the universe for some several thousand years.

The Klendari had survived so long because of their instinctual need to fortify their holdings. Their worlds were labyrinths of fortress walls, gun emplacements, razor trenches, and all other manner of engineering fortification. To try and take a world from the Klendari it was deemed the attacking force would need a minimum of ten times their standard forces to even have the slightest chance to succeed.

Relations between the two powers were cordial for many years. The Coalition had no desire to expand into Klendari space, and the Klendari benefited from wider trade access through the Coalitions standard market system. Events only began to take a downward spin when Klendari immigrants began spreading further and further into Coalition space.

Their travel permits were entirely legal and they established communities on several dozen worlds within the Coalition; often forming small Klendari quarters of larger cities as they would tend to group together. It was here that the nature of the Klendari began to upset their new world’s hosts.

They would begin fortifying their quarters and neighborhoods and turned them into sudo-military fortresses. Blockhouses became guard towers, avenues blocked off by reinforced gates, windows reduced in size to firing slits, etc. Within a few months of several families of Klendari settling on a world their new homes would be an impregnable bulwark of the Klendari Empire.

Naturally the legitimate rulers of the worlds were concerned by the sudden militarization of portions of their cities. Local law enforcement agencies tried to maintain order within the Klendari quarters but found with more and more Klendari migrating to them they began following the Klendari Empire laws instead. It was not uncommon for law enforcement to eventually refuse to patrol those areas as the Klendari began reacting hostile to them, as if they saw them as invaders.

Tensions reached boiling points on a dozen worlds but only when the Klendari Empire made an official statement declaring all Klendari settlements and enclaves within Coalition territory to be in fact part of the Klendari Empire did conflict erupt.

Coalition planets with Klendari enclaves issued ordinances denouncing the notion that they would relinquish sovereign territory and sent military units to demand the surrender of the enclaves. The enclaves refused, the military attempted to repossess the enclaves, and so the enclaves resisted triggering the Klendari War.

Each enclave took several months to reconquer, which was made worse by the fact the Klendari Empire was sending troops to reinforce each of the enclaves. Multiple convoys of troops were intercepted enroute, but a handful making it and further dragged out the war.  

By the seventh month of the conflict and only a handful of enclaves recaptured Coalition Military Command deemed that a new strategy was needed to bring the Klendari to the negotiating table. The idea was put forward that if the Coalition could capture a single Klendari world it would show them that they were not as invulnerable as they believed. Septimus Prime was deemed the perfect target as it was deep enough in Klendari territory to sends shockwaves when captured, but not too far that supplying it would become untenable.

So the Coalition assembled a massive invasion force, diverted 75% of their naval forces to protect it, and dispatched it for the heart of Klendari space. The moment the fleet exited their jump they found the Klendari resilience was well merited.

The first elements exiting the jump found themselves emerging into an orbiting minefield at the edge of the system. The mines were set to roam randomly throughout the system and only target ships that were not equipped with a Klendari transmitter. The “Righteous Fury” super battleship took the brunt of the damage upon emerging as it was the largest vessel. The shields held out as long as they could but by the time the rest of the fleet emerged it had sustained so much damage it had to be abandoned.

From there the fleet elements pressed forward to Septimus Prime while creating a cordon for the troop transports to move through safely. Though the Klendari had minefields in place they had not expected such a brazen attack into their territory and only a few Klendari fleet elements were present. These few ships hugged the orbit of Septimus Prime and used the orbital and ground based defenses to augment their lethality.

Coalition ships fought hard against the Septimus defense network, losing several more ships to ground based energy cannons. Klendari ships held out as long as they could but were eventually driven off when the final Hydron Cannon platform was knocked out of orbit removing the last of orbital defenses. They reduced themselves do hit and run tactics while they waited for the rest of the Klendari navy to arrive. With them driven off the Coalition could begin ground landings to take the planet itself.

There was a large debate about who would be the spear tip of the assault. Projections listed that whoever it was would take massive casualties. As brave as the various Coalition races had been to join the effort, none now were willing to be the first into the grinder.

Humanity did not share such hesitations.

Through the flak and energy cannon fire their drop ships rained down on Septimus Prime. 30% were lost in the first wave before they had even touched the ground. When they did the humans were met with an intense counter assault by Klendari forces that had been waiting to repel the ground invasion which resulted in a further 45% loss of forces before the Klendari withdrew.  

Despite their losses humanity had secured the beachhead and further reinforced it with additional forces. Soon the beachhead was a military compound with scores of humans marching out in columns.

To watch humans fling themselves at Klendari defenses was something beyond understanding. You would watch dozens of armored tanks charge across no man’s land to be wiped out one by one all for the destruction of one reinforced pillbox, or their soldiers crawl through piles of their dead to sneak up on their enemy unnoticed. Lesser species would have broken from the losses but humans simply put their heads down and continued marching forward. The rest of the Coalition contributed of course, but when faced with the stubbornness of the Klendari fortifications it was more often the humans who were brought in to finally break them open.

Meter by bloody meter the Klendari were driven from their strongholds as the death toll continued to mount. Wrecks of vehicles turned the surrounding landscapes into forests of rusting metal and were filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Some Coalition forces suffered such horrendous casualties that they withdrew from the assault, but humanity was one of the few that continued the fight until finally, after almost a year of intense fighting, Septimus Prime surrendered and the Klendari Empire as a whole opened up negotiations for peace.

[ltwilliammowett]

The First Rate - Ship of the Line

The concept of a classification system for British naval vessels dates back to the accession of James I of England, in the wake of which the fleet was officially divided into "large", "medium" and "smaller" ships. A 1618 Commission of Inquiry added the designation "Ships Royal" for the largest and most prestigious ships in the fleet, each capable of carrying at least 400 men.

HMS Britannia 120-guns (1820). Leaving a Mediterranean Harbour, by Robert Strickland Thomas (1787–1853)

The first Ships Royal - Elizabeth Jonas, Triumph, White Bear, Merhonour, Ark Royal and Victory - were all converted galleons, including three very old ships that had fought the Spanish Armada in 1588. Their condition was generally poor, with Elizabeth Jonas and Triumph already completely unserviceable and White Bear so unseaworthy that she was sold for scrapping in 1627.

Early first rates had only 60 guns, but by the mid-1660s they generally had between 90 and 100 guns. By the early years of the 18th century it had become accepted that 100 guns was the standard criterion for a First Rate in wartime (while 90 guns, later 98 guns, became the standard equipment for a Second Rate in wartime). (Towards the end of the century, ships were built with more than 100 guns, and they too were classified as First Rate.

Second rate ships with 84 to 98 guns and larger third rate ships with 70 to 80 guns. Smaller third-rank ships of about 60 to 64 guns and fourth-rank ships of about 50 guns were once considered suitable but were gradually phased out. The fifth and sixth class ships were frigates that could usually manoeuvre independently of the battle line.

The English first rate of the 1750s onwards was by far the finest and largest the Royal Navy could field. Because of their size, these 100-gun ships had 800-850 men on board to operate the guns and keep these big ladies running. And speaking of size, we arrive at an approximate length of 64m and a displacement of 2000 tons. They served as flagships in every squadron they sailed in and therefore usually had an admiral and his staff to carry. To build such a lady in 1760 cost around £67,000, which by today's standards is about £95 million.

This cost, however, included the supplies needed and the sheer quantity of them made them a rarity in the navies, which is why many did not have so many in service. In the 18th century, for example, the Royal Navy had only 5 in service, which later increased to 11. But they were designed for longevity, so they were often in service for more than 50-70 years and were often adapted and refitted. The famous HMS Victory was over 40 when she sailed into the Battle of Trafalgar and was rebuilt twice.

She is also the only one who has survived to this day. Others even built in the 19th century, some with around 120 guns, were scrapped after serving as floating navy academies or prisons.

[judgemark45]

USS Monterey (CG-61)

The USS Monterey (CG-61) is a Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser in the United States Navy. It has a displacement of approximately 9,600 tons, measures 567 feet (173 meters) in length, 55 feet (16.8 meters) in beam, and has a draft of 34 feet (10.2 meters). Powered by four General Electric LM2500 gas turbine engines, it achieves speeds over 30 knots and has an unlimited range due to its capability for underway replenishment. The crew consists of 33 officers and 327 enlisted personnel. Armament includes two Mk 41 Vertical Launch Systems, two Mk 45 5-inch guns, two Mk 38 25 mm guns, eight Harpoon missile launchers, two Phalanx CIWS, and various machine guns. The ship also supports two SH-60 Seahawk helicopters. Built by Bath Iron Works, it was commissioned on June 16, 1990. The USS Monterey has been involved in numerous deployments and operations, showcasing its versatility and importance in modern naval operations.

[intricatechaosofyou]

ENCHANTED

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Summary: the last thing you wanted was a night out, but a certain WSO might change your mind

Based on Taylor Swift’s “Enchanted”

Part II

Warnings: drinking, alcohol, language

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day!! Here’s a little Bob one shot for everyone wishing he was here today.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

The last thing you wanted to do tonight was go out. It had been a long week and you just wanted to curl up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a sappy rom-com, but your friend had other plans for you.

“Emily, this is ridiculous,” you whined as your best friend coated your lips with a glittery gloss.

“Stop talking, you’ll mess me up. And stop complaining. It’ll be fun. We’re going to the Hard Deck.”

“That makes it worse,” you complained.

“That makes it better! A chance to hook up with a Naval officer.” Emily smiled wickedly and shot you a wink. “Why do you think I dolled you all up?”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. At Emily’s request, you were wearing the sundress that only fell halfway down your thighs and pushed up your cleavage. She had even done your hair and makeup. She really had dolled you all up.

“I still don’t like this idea,” you admitted, toying with the end of your dress.

“You will,” Emily assured with a wink.

—————

It turns out, Emily was very wrong. You didn’t like this idea at all. The night had been horrible so far. Your best friend had disappeared five minutes after you arrived, charmed by a blonde aviator who introduced himself as Jake Seresin, callsign: Hangman.

You were about ready to go home. You had faked enough smiles and forced a few too many laughs for one night. Besides, it was still early enough for that movie you wanted to watch in the first place.

Still, you couldn’t leave without telling Emily. Even if she went home with Hangman, she’d still worry about where you were. So as you looked around the bar trying to spot your friend, you found yourself staring at a beautiful pair of cobalt eyes.

It was like you couldn’t look away once you saw him. You weren’t sure what it was but it seemed like time stopped, like everyone else in the room vanished. You weren’t one to believe in love at first sight, but this certainly seemed like it. With a blush you turned away from him and focused on the drink in front of you, suddenly enamored with swirling the liquid in your glass when you felt a presence to your left.

“The usual, Bob?” Penny asked the figure who was now seated two stools away from you. Turning to look at the customer you found the owner of the beautiful eyes. There he was, a few feet away from you. And he was even more attractive up close. The glasses that adorned his face fit him well and the khaki uniform he wore was oddly doing it for you.

After the man nodded to Penny, you decided to pipe up. It was now or never.

“Bob?” You asked, making the man in question turn to you. “Is that your callsign?”

The man looked bewildered to find you talking to him but nodded nonetheless. “Yes, ma’am. It’s not as interesting as some of the others.”

“I like it. Certainly much better than ‘Hangman,’” you scoffed.

“You know Hangman?” Bob asked, tilting his head.

“He charmed my friend about an hour ago. Haven’t seen her since,” you lamented. “I assume you’re familiar with the walking Ken doll as well.”

With a chuckle, Bob nodded.

“Does that mean you’re a pilot, too?”

“Weapons systems officer, actually. I don’t actually fly the plane. I manage all of our weapons and act like a second pair of eyes for the pilot,” Bob explained, waving his hands in front of him as he talked.

“Sounds important.”

Bob blushed, looking down at the bartop. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You smiled at the man. He seemed less cocky than the rest of the aviators in the Hard Deck. It was like a breath of fresh air. With a smile, you moved to sit in the stool right next to him.

He looked down at you, smiling shyly.

“Tell me more,” you prompted.

Over the next few hours, you and Bob talked about everything from your jobs to your favorite songs to why your friend had dragged you here in the first place. He was endearing, stuttering every once in a while when he stared at you for too long and gesturing with his hands whenever he got excited about a topic. Caught up in the playful banter, you lost track of time and when you checked your phone, you realized it was almost midnight.

“I should be getting home,” you muttered, playing with the hem of your dress.

“Oh, right.” Bob hesitated, running his tongue over his bottom lip before speaking again. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I’ll call an Uber. I don’t want to keep you if you need to get home to a girlfriend or something.”

“No, no girlfriend or anything,” Bob replied with a shake of his head. “It’d be no trouble to take you home.”

“Then, I’d appreciate it,” you admitted.

Bob closed the tab, insisting on paying for your drinks as well, as you texted Emily that you were leaving, having found a ride. When the two of you got to his car, he opened the passenger seat door for you and helped you in before getting into the driver’s seat.

As he drove, the only sounds were the radio playing some song from the 80s in the background and the occasional direction from you. It was comfortable. You felt oddly at ease in the passenger seat of Bob’s car even though you two had been strangers mere hours ago.

When you arrived in front of your house, you turned to the man. “Thanks for the ride, Robby.”

“Robby?” He questioned, small smile gracing his face.

You nodded. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” Bob admitted. “Will…will you be at the Hard Deck next Friday?”

Humming, you shrugged, playful smile on your face. “Maybe. Got this weapons system officer I wanna see again.”

“I think he wants to see you again, too.”

You leaned over the center console and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, giggling as you watched a rosy color spread over his face. “See you next week, Robby.”

With that, you opened the car door and scurried to your front door. After you stepped inside and closed the door, you fell back against the wood, dreamy sigh escaping you.

God, you hoped you’d see Bob Floyd again.

I was enchanted to meet you

—————

The next weekend, when Emily suggested you go to the Hard Deck again, you immediately agreed.

“And here I thought you hated this place just last week,” Emily mused as the two of you walked up the path to the bar.

“I found a new appreciation for it is all,” you replied.

“Because of a certain pilot?” Emily wagged her brows at you, making you roll your eyes. After the previous night out, Emily made you spill everything about the man who drove you home.

“WSO,” you corrected.

Emily stifled a laugh at your response. “Oh, honey you are whipped.”

“Am not.”

“Whatever,” Emily replied, pushing the door to the bar open. Her eyes immediately fell on a tall blonde by the dartboard. “Hangman!”

The blonde’s eyes snapped up and a lazy smirk appeared on his face once he recognized your best friend. In a few short strides, he was in front of the two of you. “Hey, Emily. Good to see you again.”

Your best friend giggled out a reply to the man as your eyes searched the room for a glimpse of those glasses and cobalt eyes.

“Looking for Bob?”

At the mention of the man in question, you turned to face Hangman.

“W- what?” You croaked.

“Are you looking for Bob?” Hangman repeated. “Saw you two talking last time you were here. Figure you’re hoping to see him here tonight.”

Your cheeks heated up. Were you that obvious?

“Is he here?”

Hangman shook his head. “No, not tonight. Him and his pilot had to eject this morning. The hospital is keeping them overnight for observation.”

“What?” Your face paled, breathing becoming slightly labored. “Are they alright?”

Hangman nodded, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey, breathe for me, kid. He and Phoenix are fine. They’re only keeping them as a precaution.”

Nodding helplessly, you placed a hand on your chest, trying to stop the panic bubbling inside you.

“You want some water?” Emily questioned from your side.

You just nodded again and let her pull you towards the bar, leading you to sit down on a stool.

Penny placed a glass in front of you. Muttering a thanks, you brought the glass up to your lips and nearly chugged the liquid.

“Hey, little sips, little sips,” Emily reprimanded, pulling the glass away from you. “You okay, honey?”

“I don’t know, Em. Why am I so concerned about a guy I barely know?”

“I think you like him,” she replied.

You groaned, dropping your head down on the bartop. You knew she was right. But how could you have fallen for a guy you only met once?

—————

The next weekend, you and Emily were at the Hard Deck again. You were determined to see Bob.

As soon as you entered the building, you caught sight of the cobalt eyes you had been thinking about for the last two weeks. It was as if your legs acted of their own accord. You were weaving through the crowd, Emily shouting your name behind you. When you reached Bob, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Woah, hey!” Bob grunted as you collided with his chest, staggering a few steps back at the sudden weight. His arms instinctually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

“I was so worried!” You admitted, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

One of Bob’s hands came up to cradle the back of your head, gently threading his fingers in your hair.

“Hangman told me you ejected and you were in the hospital,” you ranted, pulling back from the man and cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Are you okay?”

Bob nodded, letting you tilt his face back and forth to inspect him for any injuries. “I’m okay, (y/n). I’m okay. Couple of bruises but I’m okay.”

You let out a shaky breath, wiping at some of the tears that had trailed down your cheeks. “Okay.”

Someone clearing their throat to your left caused both of your heads to snap in the direction of a few aviators, no doubt friends of Bob, staring at you.

“You gonna introduce us, Baby on Board?” Hangman asked with a smirk, one arm slung across Emily’s shoulders.

Bob blushed slightly and you stepped away from him, just keeping your hand on his elbow to remind yourself that he was there and he was alright.

“This is (y/n). We met a couple weeks ago,” Bob explained.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” you said with a small smile.

“Is this the one you wouldn’t shut up about?” The man with the mustache asked.

Bob’s blush darkened, free hand rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“Shut up, Rooster,” the only woman aviator of the group piped up, elbowing the man who had just talked. “It’s nice to meet you, (y/n). I’m Phoenix, Bob’s pilot.”

You smiled and shook her hand. Bob had talked about her when you had last seen him. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m glad to see you two safe after the ejection last week.”

“Me too. Million dollar plane taken down by a damn pigeon. Impressive, isn’t it?” Phoenix said with a sarcastic smirk.

The rest of Bob’s coworkers introduced themselves to you, happy to have you joining them for the night. You partnered with Phoenix to destroy Fanboy and Payback at pool, watched Hangman beat Coyote at darts, and sang along with everyone as Rooster played “Great Balls of Fire” on the piano. But throughout the night, you never strayed far from Bob. The two of you were always in reach of each other, sharing shy glances and smiles during the night.

When Rooster had started up his fifth Jerry Lee Lewis song, Bob tilted his head towards the door. You got the hint and followed him out of the bar.

The two of you leaned against the railing of the patio, staring out at the water before you decided to speak up.

“I was glad to see you here tonight.”

“I could tell. That hug caught me off guard,” Bob said with a chuckle.

You blushed, looking away from the man. “I’m sorry. I was just so worried when I heard what happened last week and I was so happy to see you safe. I don’t even know why I was so worried. We barely even know each other. I was just so enchanted by you when we first met–”

“(y/n),” Bob cut you off. “I get it. I felt the same way.”

Relief flooded you as you glanced back at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t get you off my mind the past two weeks. Your name just echoed in my head. I should’ve told you that night, but I didn’t.”

You stared at Bob, slightly overwhelmed by the eloquent admission.

“I’m sorry. That was really forward of me,” he began.

Without a second thought, you grabbed Bob’s collar and pulled his lips to yours before he could retreat in on himself.

It was slow and soft, everything you expected kissing him would be like. His hands moved to grab your waist as his tongue prodded at your bottom lip.

As you opened your mouth, letting his tongue in, you threaded your fingers through his hair, trying to pull him closer to you. It was instinctual, the way you needed him as close to you as possible.

When the two of you parted, you stared at each other, chests heaving as you both tried to catch your breaths.

“You free tomorrow?” Bob questioned, his country drawl a little thicker now.

“Yeah. What’d you have in mind, Robby?”

“Dinner?”

You smiled brightly, trailing your hands down his chest. “Sounds like a date. But for tonight, why don’t you take me home?”

Bob nodded and pressed a fleeting kiss to your lips before digging his keys out of his pocket. And as he drove the two of you to your place, hand grasping yours, you smiled.

Maybe going to the Hard Deck wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

TAGS

@cherrycola27

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Wake Me Up Before You Go Go

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x Reader

Description: Mickey Garcia has always had dance in his soul. It shocked everyone he knew when he didn't follow the music and dance in his soul for a career. Instead he became a Naval Aviator - a Weapons Systems Officer, in fact, and didn't regret that decision even once. Some part of him knew that he would find his dance partner one day. After the Uranium Mission, the restlessness in his soul lead to Mickey going dancing, and that's where he'd found you. At first things between the two of you were just fun. But what happens when Mickey wants more? Can he convince you just how good the two of you could be dancing in step for the rest of your lives? Disclaimer: Female!Reader Word Count: 2947 Author’s Note: Hiya! I wrote this fic as yet another installment for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober Event. This time, it's based on the song Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go) by Wham! This is my first official oneshot for Fanboy and I really love it! I hope you all do too! All of the bold and italicized parts are lyrics from the song! My Masterlist

Miguel Garcia has always had a dancer’s heart. Growing up in Miami, Florida, he’s been surrounded by music since the day he was born in an inner-city hospital to two people with pure music in their souls. If you asked either of his parents, they’d have thought he’d grow up to be a Merengue, Cumbia, or Salsa dancer. Instead, Miguel chose to join the Navy. When he was so serious, so sure of the decision, who were they to stop him? He’d worked incredibly hard to climb the ranks, but he’d never lost the rhythm in his heart. What was harder to find was the girl who dances in a complimentary rhythm to his own. 

It hasn’t helped either that he’s been deployed around the world for most of his career. It has been an incredibly fulfilling life, but a solitary one. Sure he has Reuben, who Mickey can unequivocally class as both a best friend and a brother, but it's not the same. A part of him has always wanted the kind of love his parents share, the kind of love he'd grown up with. The Uranium mission had seemed like the turning point in his career. The admiralty had formed a new squadron, electing to keep the Daggers together, and he was (he is) happy to have a permanent place to call home. It had finally felt like he had a family again. But something was still missing - someone was still missing.

He'd started up his old habits from his youth once more. Weekend after weekend he'd hit the dance clubs of San Diego, dancing with everybody who wanted to, until the nervous thrum in his veins had quieted once more. That was the only way he’d been able to fall asleep with the new monotony his life had taken. It had been one such night after a terribly boring week when he saw you for the first time. You were laughing and carefree, each elegant movement looking like poetry on the dance floor of the small salsa bar. It was the first time all night he’d felt the incessant energy thrumming under his skin grow quiet. 

"Hi, can I cut in?" He'd asked.

"Sure," You'd giggled. The minute you put your hand in his, he'd been lost to the music in your eyes and the rhythm of your soul. You'd felt like sin under his fingertips and your smile had been brighter than the sun. Mickey had not wanted to let go of you all night.

That rhythm had translated into what was the best sex of his life in the months following your serendipitous meeting. But night after night he always woke up in his simple, shitty little base apartment to the sight of you slipping out of the door like you'd never been in his bed to begin with. Just like that, too, he'd stay awake an hour longer to see your posts on social media about dancing in the Gaslamp Quarter. And every night he'd fall back to sleep wishing that one day soon your heart would beat to the same rhythm as his own. He'd known you'd wanted something light, "Just fucking, just for fun", you'd murmured in your musical voice that first night. And just fucking, just for fun was where he'd stayed.

Mickey isn’t sure when it happened, but you've been haunting his every thought. He only needs to blink and he can see your smile, your sparkling eyes, and everything about you in technicolor swimming in front of his eyes. All of a sudden, your arrangement isn’t enough. He wants to dance through life with you, not just waltz you into his bed every few nights. It’s no lie that work keeps you busy, just like the Navy keeps him. He knows you love it, dancing by night and during the day writing reviews of the places you danced at for one of San Diego's travel websites. But Mickey can't help wanting more of you.

Even when he's supposed to be flying, he's only thinking of you. His inattention could cause him to make some serious mistakes, but he can’t stop. The one time he’d mentioned it to Payback, he’d regretted it too. Reuben was no help. His advice had been, "Just tell her how you feel. Then you can woo her!"

Well, Reuben may know exactly what to say to Emily, his wife, but Mickey still has no idea what to say to you. Or when, to be honest. You're barely around for more than a few hours at a time. And when you are, your pretty mouth is too occupied to do much talking.

After months of trying and failing to tell you how he feels, Mickey's decided he has to take matters into his own hands and track you down at one of these clubs. He has to dance with you, take advantage of the close proximity and your body pressed against his to tell you the truth. But he has no idea what your schedule is. So Mickey does what he does best, analyzes all of the facts. If he can do it in the back of a jet, he can track you down, right? The first thing he does is call your best friend.

"Hey, Maria. Do you have any idea what Angel's doing this weekend?" Her response had been vague at best, something about a themed dance night at one of the clubs in the city. Okay, it's a start. But it's October. Nearly every dance club in the city is throwing themed dance nights Friday through Sunday. That's not going to help much. 

You'd mentioned something to him a couple of nights ago, about reviewing the theme night happening at one of the newest clubs in town. It was one of the few words of pillow talk he actually remembered before your mouth was doing wicked things that made his heart rate skyrocket. Now if only he could remember what kind of theme night. Not hip hop, funk, or soul. It could've been a kpop night, but you'd mentioned something about lycra? What the hell does lycra have to do with dance? Before he can update his list, his phone gets snatched right out of his hands. It's Hangman, because of course it is, and the nosey fucker's already looking into Mickey's phone like it's his god-given right to do so.

"Well, well, well, Fanboy. You like going dancing on weekends? Picking up the ladies?" The glare Mickey levels at the obnoxious blond could have been powerful enough to set him up in flames. 

"Can I have my phone back, please, Bagman?" But Hangman just keeps scrolling, quite gleefully ignoring his pleas.

"Nah. This is too interesting." He squints at the screen. "What do dancing and lycra have to do with each other?"

"I wish I knew. My girlfriend, I guess, mentioned going to one of these Halloween theme dance nights this weekend. And she mentioned something about lycra and one of the places she's going this weekend." Mickey should not be grateful to have his phone back, not when Jake just slumps down on the sofa and starts brainstorming out loud. Most of his suggestions are frankly ludicrous and the longer Mickey hears him talk the more his head pounds. 

By the time training is over for the day, every single Dagger knows and has contributed their two cents. Mickey's more than exhausted and all he wants is his Angel, but you're not there. But as it stands, there is a monster in his stomach growling loudly and he’s covered in sweat. So into the locker room he goes, praying that the guys have something, anything to talk about other than his Angel search. 

Of course the minute he walks into the locker room he’s bombarded with even more suggestions. At that moment, Mickey has to remind himself that he likes these people. They may be pains in his ass but he likes them.

"Aww, c'mon Fanboy! This is your girl we're talking about. So what's she like in bed? She has to be a bombshell in and out of bed to keep your attention." Mickey's not quite sure what to say to Jake's comment because you are. He calls you his Angel for a reason after all. But he's never once indulged in locker room shop talk and he isn't going to now. Not when he's not even sure how you feel about him and everything.

So he just shrugs and turns on the shower. With the hot water pounding down around him the tight band of pressure across his temples eases. It helps that Hangman has finally, finally shut up about Angel's weekend plans, too.

But it feels like it's nearly too good to be true. Because the squadron is at the Hard Deck later that night, and Mickey gets cornered by Natasha and Bob.

"So, Fanboy." Bob's smiling good naturedly as he pushes a soda towards Mickey. "What's your girlfriend like? The other guys probably just want the dirty details but you look happy, man. I'd love to know more about her if you'd like to tell me about her? Nix and I both would."

Under their gentle smiles and easy demeanors it's almost too easy to state all of the ways Mickey adores you. He probably sounds like a broken, stuck record, prattling on and on about your soft hair, sweet smile and your big brain. He even pulls up one of your reviews to share and oh. Oh. He's in love with you. But he’s not sure how he’s going to tell you, not at all.

“Okay, you obviously love this girl.” Mickey can only nod at Natasha’s fondly amused tone. “So why aren’t you tracking her down to tell her so?”

For the first time in weeks, an idea starts to crystallize in his mind. “Would you guys be able to help me find her? She’s supposed to be reviewing one of the Halloween theme nights this weekend. But all Angel told me is something involving lycra.”

"Maybe she is going to wear lycra? Like for eighties jazzercise?" Mickey’s so excited he could kiss Bob for that suggestion. Sure enough there is only one place hosting an eighties theme night this weekend. It would be too much to hope that he could manage to go alone. Because the minute Bob’s found the club, Hangman is right there to start planning a night of it. Before too long, Mickey’s quest to tell his Angel how he really feels has turned into a Dagger’s night out and a complete and total mess.

Come Saturday night, Mickey’s one of the first Daggers ready to leave base and head out for the night. He's not wearing anything too out of the ordinary, opting for a wide collared shirt, and trousers. The one difference is how his curls cascade over his forehead and the retro shades covering his eyes. It doesn't surprise Mickey at all to see Natasha appear in the parking lot minutes later dressed in lycra and a leotard, big puffy hair, sweatbands, leg warmers and all. Bob wearing a turtleneck and slacks and Reuben when he finally drives up is dressed like Mickey is. But the true surprises of the Daggers seem to be Rooster and Hangman who walk up side by side in matching leggings, leotards, wristbands and headbands. Javy appears sedately behind the duo, dressed similarly to Bob.

Mickey feels kind of like the Ringmaster of a particularly rowdy circus as he leads the way into the club not longer after. It feels like entering an alternate universe. The music is so loud he feels it in his bones. Everyone’s wearing bright colors and dressed like they stepped right out of the 80s. There are more than a few people wearing lycra like Nat, Hangman and Rooster. Already, Mickey can feel the thrum of the beat in his blood. But as much as he’d like to dance, he’s a man with a mission.

He melts into the crowd before Nat and Hangman are back with the first round. If he knows you correctly, and he thinks he does, you’ll be right in the middle of the dance floor. You’ve said it a hundred times, that the center of the dance floor is where you can get the best idea of what the mood is for a club. Sure enough, he finds you in the center of the dance floor. 

The sight of you, it takes his breath away. Lit up by the glow of the lights, you look ethereal. Your eyes are closed as your body moves to the beat.  Much like Nat, you’re in leggings and a leotard too, your hair a halo of curls around your head. But your leotard is more than a little sexier, only a scrap of fabric covering your breasts. You look like sin, your bare arms sparkling under the neon lights as beads of sweat drip down your neck. It’s obvious all the other men on the dance floor want you for themselves too, because one after the other, they keep trying to grind up on you. 

When your eyes open, they glimmer with rage, rage you rightfully use to push the wandering hands off of your skin. Rage that melts into a sweet O of surprise when you see him standing there.

“Miguel?” Here’s another reason why he loves you. The way you say his name is like music. He takes your hand just as the beats of an all too familiar song pound through the speakers.

Jitterbug

Jitterbug

Jitterbug

Jitterbug

"Hi, Angel." Mickey's voice would be barely audible were it not for the way he murmurs the words right into your ear. "I missed you."

You look flattered at his innocent admission, and Mickey's not sure why. 

"I remember you saying something about an Eighties Dance Night. It didn't take long to find this place."

To your credit, you let Mickey twirl you around the dance floor for a few more seconds before you pretty glistening lips part.

"Why do you miss me, Miguel?" You look like you're almost scared of the answer you're going to get. So instead, Mickey croons the lyrics of the song playing into your ear.

"You take the grey skies outta my way (ooh-ooh)

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day

You turned a bright spark into a flame (yeah-yeah)

My beats per minute never been the same"

Now there's understanding in your beautiful eyes and as much as Mickey wants to turn tail and hide, instead a glorious smile takes over your face. He doesn't object at all as you drag him outside. In the quiet, he finally, finally hears the staccato rush of your frenzied breaths, calming in tune to your own.

“Mickey, I …” You look lost all of a sudden and Mickey can’t stand to see that look on your face. So he steps forward and kisses you, slow and sweet, pouring all of his pent up feelings into the soft, tender kiss.

“Angel, please. This once, can I talk?” At your nod, he continues. “I know you just wanted some fun, and that was what I wanted too. But sweetheart, I can’t do this anymore. Cielito, it hurts too much.”

Your face falls at his words, and he can almost see the walls come up around your heart.

“I’m almost certain I’m in love with you, and I can’t stand that you’ve left me sleepin' in my bed. I was dreamin' but I should've been with you instead. Wake me up before you go-go. Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo.” Your giggle when Mickey starts singing the song is far better than your tears would have been.

“You’re a sap, Miguel Garcia.” But even as you say the words, you’re stepping into his arms. You taste like strawberries as he sucks on your plush lips and it's a taste he's not sure he'll ever get tired of. “I’m pretty sure that I’m falling in love with you too.”

"Come home with me, baby? And stay the night?" Your grin and nod makes his smile feel like a mile wide as he calls an Uber. You’re all over him on the drive to the base gate and all of a sudden it feels like the world is still. Because you’re in his apartment, and then on his bed, the scrap of fabric covering your tits riding up until it’s not covering anything at all. Your moan is musical, too, as he leaves wet kisses over his skin. But Mickey’s sure he likes you best when you’re completely naked and in his arms, a sheen of sweat over your soft skin as you pant against his chest. Your mind looks to be finally, completely silent, and your lips are pillow soft as you press soft kisses over his heart.

“Miguel?” Your voice is a little rough, vocal cords rubbed raw as you snuggle in closer.

“Yeah, Angel?” Mickey’s sure he’ll never get tired of you, not when you’re blinking sleepily at him.

“Take me out for brunch in the morning?” For some reason your sleepy words make him happier than he’s felt in a long time.

“I can do that, beautiful. But you’ll have to wear my clothes. I don’t think that lycra set of yours should be worn in public, ever again.” He has to stifle his chuckles when all he hears is a soft snuffling snore. There’s no way you’re going out dancing without him tonight. You’re too worn out. Is it a crime that he likes you that way?

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 

@mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @cassiemitchell 

@dakotakazansky @roosterforme @cherrycola27 

@thedroneranger @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls 

@sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[deepspaceboytoy]

The Suit

They don’t really tell you just how hot it gets under the armor. That’s what you notice first, the buildup, the whine of the fans, whir of the cooling systems. You tell yourself, before your first drop, that it’ll be the gunfire that gets to you, the booming of naval artillery and the guns of Imperial armor. But it’s the sound of your suit trying to stop you from dying from the heat that stays with you. Reminds you just how human you are. Surrounded by three thousand years of technological advancements, you can still get fucking heatstroke.  

-First Decanus Aksinya Ramirez, 1st Cohort 127 Legio “Ironmongers”, 12th Fleet, on deployment to Operation Sector Ramesses, Eastern Fringes, Provinci Nomitius, January 7th, 2732 

First drop worst drop, that’s what people tell you. Combat nerves and first-time jitters, all that stuff, that’s what’s supposed to get most rookies. Your 47th drop, though? Your hands still shake, teeth still clench, nerves still fray. No conditioning exists that can mentally prepare a human being to drop from low orbit into an ocean of enemy fire at 1400 meters a second, surrounded by less than an inch of armor in any direction. You just point your feet at the ground and hope that when you land you can reach your gun faster than the guy trying to kill you can recover from the shock. Even once you’re on the ground, you’re not much better off. A Legionary is pretty goddamned well equipped all things considered, but combined arms still rules the day. Now, instead of rolling hot with tanks and APCs, you’re on your own in hostile territory, and the other guys don’t play by your rules.  

They call it Ionia. Pretty world, if you ignore the global firestorm we touched off when we dropped the orbital artillery. Global weather patterns have turned these wildfires into a wall of heat and flame a mile high roaring along at well over 50 kph. Perfect environment for a drop assault. Our carrier, the IHNV Long Time Coming, sits in low orbit, drop bays open. Her shields are down, allowing us to take the plunge without being incinerated down to our constituent atoms, and she’s taking a hell of a beating for it. But that’s fine; it takes less than 10 seconds for all 10 cohorts to drop through the bay, and then she’s hightailing it for the protection of 12th Fleet’s Strike Flotilla 34, a shoal of escort frigates and heavy cruisers that envelop her in their shield profiles. They’ll be sitting overwatch for us and the two other legions dropping today, the 546th and 1232nd, waiting until we need them to drop some more kinetic kill vehicles on some poor unsuspecting Aberinian fuckers. Before the end of this, there’ll be a lot of poor unsuspecting Aberinian fuckers who’ve learned to dread the low moaning those cannons make as they breach atmosphere. They’ll dread the sounds we make even more.  

At 1242 hours Terran time, we jump, 15,000 fully armored Legionaries dropping in total synchronicity. 32 seconds later, 14,500 of us land in newly formed craters. The air is on fire. The ground is on fire. If it weren’t for the environmental seals on our armor, we’d be dead in minutes. With the seals, we barely notice it.  

First objective is a local Aberinian firebase coordinating aerial defenses over Ionia’s primary continent. Take it out, and Fleet can drop another couple hundred thousand Legionaries with impunity, shipping down troops and materiel at will. Fail to take it, and any transport ships closing within 2000 kilometers of the continent get turned into aerial fireballs. Simple, you might think. The Aberinian defenders have different ideas. Immediately after I land, I’m under fire, maser beams and plasma rounds turning the alpine undergrowth around me into smoldering, runny mud and patches of fused glass. Abs love their energy weapons, and in those first few seconds after we land, they reap a punishing toll. But it only lasts a few seconds. On solid ground, we thunder into action. The nearest weapons position to me, a dugout full of automatic weapons, is my first target. 1st Squad, with me leading, takes to the charge, armored boots pounding the dirt and fallen trees around us as we rocket up to almost 80 kph, arrowing down on this enemy position like lightning. Two hits, three, four, I stop counting, my shoulder armor not even glowing yet from the dispersed energy, and then we’re on the Aberinians, shouldering into the charge.  

There’s a big burly bastard standing in my way, so I choose to go through him. Impact, and he’s down on the ground, where all that famed Ab muscle mass does him no good. I look him in the eyes as I put six rounds into his brain, hearts, and redundant nerve cluster. Dead in less than half a second. Next one is smaller, smarter. This one has fought Legionaries who were on the bounce before, and they know they can’t absorb the charge. They don’t even try, immediately beating a retreat from the edge of the firing position, trying to steady themselves for a good shot on me or one of my people. A hasty shot cleaves their right arm off at the elbow, and then I steady, putting three more rounds into their chest. They punch out of ragged holes in the Ab’s back, ending up lodged in the rear of the dugout. 

1st Squad is equally clinical. Engagement time in the dugout is sitting at 6 seconds, and there’s probably ten or twelve dead Abs littering the ground. Weapons position silenced, onto the next one. We leap the back wall, throwing ourselves back into the hurricane of defensive fire. My commswoman, Gauria, takes a hit to the head, but she’s back up before we’ve even set off; her combat helm is bubbling but otherwise no worse for wear. The first Legionary mortars land near where the shot that hit her came from, and the Ab who took the shot is definitely worse for wear. We’re through the cloud of dirt and arterial spray before the Ab troops have had a chance to recover, and they’re all dead by the time we reach the back wall of their trench. 15 more dead defenders, no casualties. Engagement time, 17 seconds. We’re slowing down, I realize. The key moments of any drop landing come now, in the first minutes. Either our forces secure enough room to consolidate gains, establish a beachhead, or the entire drop force dies. Imperial Legion timing allows no errors, brooks no mistakes. We take this firebase here and now, in the next 10 minutes, or I watch the troops under my command and three whole elite legions worth of soldiers die. No pressure.  

Resistance is struggling to keep up with the speed of the assault. Elements of my 1st Cohort, along with 2nd, 5th, and 9th, have secured most of the approaches to the base. Now it’s just the bastards inside. Time to crack this thing open. First up is my squad, along with the rest of 1st Cohort. 487 of us left. Far more than enough with three more cohorts backing us up. Marilene places a demolition charge against a central span of the perimeter wall, and I nod to blow it. We’re already thudding inside as the wall is falling, reinforced layers of synthrock and steel showering us as we simply drive over top of the first defenders we encounter.  

The inside of the firebase is divided into quadrants, with barracks closest to us on the eastern side. Reserves are still suiting up outside it as we gun them down, single shots blowing craters in unarmored Aberinian torsos. Some, we don’t even have time to draw down on. Instead, single unarmed strikes pulp limbs and crater skulls. We’re pounding the interior asphalt, well on our way to the command post on the western edge of the base, when defensive fire finally reaches us. Pelted with energy bolts like rain, we gun down anyone who pokes a head up. The sleeting defensive fire slackens as 9th Cohort breaches, taking the hastily repositioned defenders in the rear. Engagement time, 1 minute 20 seconds. Casualties, 22. Dead Aberinians? Hard to count the splotches on the ground where bodies used to stand. We’ve liquified anything in our way.  

We take stock outside the command center. It’s a synthrock blockhouse, windowless, fortified and reinforced entrances. There were guards, but they aren’t combat effective with rounds drilled through their torsos. More Legionaries are streaming inside the compound, following up on breaches set by the other assault teams. Colonel Melody Moriconi, Legion commander, is pounding her way down the central asphalt thoroughfare towards us, armor shedding beam rounds and plasma like rain drops. At the compound's weapons depot, a few Abs have managed to put up a fight with the heavier artillery, but now the Legion breaching teams are inside the firebase, and they use their heavier armor to simply roll over the depot. Fighting inside the base is brief and brutal, Legion speed overwhelming the Abs’ famous resilience and feral aggression.  

Colonel Moriconi comms us halfway to the command center, giving us the go ahead to breach. Marilene places two more det charges, and we’re inside, plowing through guard and command staff alike. Quarles takes three plasma bolts to the chest, stumbling forward a few more steps before the superheated ammunition burns through his chest plate and eats his torso away. He gets two rounds off before his brain reminds him he’s dead, and he crumples. We’re stuck in it now, charging down cramped hallways and bursting into hastily reinforced rooms. Doesn’t matter what they put in front of us, we run over it, daring the Aberinians to try and slow us down. Outside the doors to the central comms room, they give it their best.  

An Ab Headhunter pack is waiting for us, heavy armor laced with trophies and tally marks. These things are Legion-killers through and through, and for the first time since drop, the Abs meet our advance. A fist bigger than my head bats my rifle away, so I lower my shoulder and shove hard, getting some room for myself. Deploying the combat blade from its port in my forearm gauntlet, I thrust with the blade, a glancing hit to the big bastard’s ribs. I can feel the crunching, but he’s barely fazed, swinging another huge paw for my head. Ducking under it, I lever a fist into his knee, hoping to shatter it, but he pivots away at the last damnable second and the best I can manage is some solid contact with his armored thigh.  

The squad is in the thick of it now, combat blades out or sidearms drawn, locked in melee with the Aberinian pack. Marilene takes a huge Ab claw to the thigh, arterial blood spraying from rent armor even as she spears the Ab through the skull, blade punching out of the crown of its head.  

The big bastard in front of me is back on me before I can survey the rest of the squad, his fangs bared and nostrils flaring. Two quick swipes pass by my head and then I’m reeling from a brutal kick to the stomach, his hoof connecting with my amor in a vicious thud. The Ab presses his advantage, trying to skewer my face on his clawed paw, but he can’t leverage the force he needs to get through my armor, and in this tiny moment I seize my chance, pushing upward and bearing him to the ground. My combat blade is buried in his chest.  

Kang, our demo expert, is first out of combat after me, putting a full sidearm mag into the brain of one of the Headhunters. The rest of the squad finishes off their opponents, minus Bannon, who is missing an arm and three quarters of his head, and we line up to breach the comms and control room. Gauria and Vento are first through, soaking up fire as a distraction while Kang chucks an armed fusion device into the room. Device armed and landed among the Abs, we fire off what’s left of our magazines and beat our retreat out of the firebase. Not 30 seconds later, we watch the fusion device make a crater of the firebase sixty feet deep. Time from drop, 6 minutes 48 seconds. It’s an overwhelming Legion victory. It will be repeated across the continent at 16 other points, although none of those strikes will be as singularly fast and brutal as ours. 127 Legio will lose 311 troopers. The Abs, though? 7200 dead and counting.  

[howtofightwrite]

Greek fire was an extraordinary specific weapon found in a particular time and region, naval combat was primarily an afar of rams (in the medaterriaan with its oar powered vessels) and armed roaring ie: getting as close as possible and just swarming onto your opponents boat to fight in melee, with some archery and whatnot. One of the sucesses of the eventual roman navy was perfecting a sort of boarding ramp to quickly put their troops on an enemy ship

Furthermore, in later periods, there are accounts of skirmishes in the atlantic between rival fleets. In which case the fore and aftcastles on the cogs are used as platforms to post archers and men throwing rocks and iron bars down on opponents ships while others boarded (hence why their called castles and elevated). Theres at least one account (I forgot of which battle) in which an English king boarded an enemy ship then abandoned his own as it sunk.

So, free advice, if you want to remain anonymous, you probably should make sure that both asks go through as anon. Though, I'm pretty sure Tumblr's extended ask length would have let you drop both paragraphs into it. Worst case (and I do realize I'm a poster child for looking like I ignore this advice), but when you run into a word (or character) limit, it's usually a good idea to start editing and trimming down the length until the system accepts it in a single pass. Splitting an ask into multiple parts is an excellent way to lose part of a question, or just make sure it never gets answered in the first place. Cut everything you don't absolutely need.

Either way, I'll err on the side of caution and answer the anon response to preserve your privacy.

I thought I made it clear that Greek fire was a much later invention. It's actually a little frustrating, because you'll see poorly researched history articles which will straight up make it sound like Greek fire was used during the Peloponnesian War. Which, yeah, no. A lot of the major Hellenic wars we think of today were around the 5th century BCE, while the invention of Greek Fire was over a thousand years later.

While you were talking about Greek fire in particular, what you said applies to a lotof weapons throughout history. When we're talking about something like the rapier or the claymore, those are weapons from very specific points in time. It's something to think about when you're mixing and matching technologies to create a fantasy world. No weapon exists in a vacuum, and they all develop as responses to the state of warfare around them. This doesn't mean you can't mix and match pieces you like, but it is something to be conscious of.

While it is outside the scope of the original question (because it's a firearm), one of the more amusing weapons from the age of sail were actual gun blades. These would be musket (usually a pistol), with a cutlass blade mounted under the barrel. (There were also examples that mounted an axe head under the barrel.) The intention was to be able to use the firearm during boarding actions and then switch over to using it as a melee weapon rather than reloading. The design was fundamentally flawed, the weight distribution was poor for a blade, and the (relative) mechanical complexity of the early firearms meant those components were too fragile for serious use. But for a couple decades in the 17th century these things saw limited use.

Now, I do need to give serious credit to A Number of Hobbies, who came back with a trio of fantastic reference articles. Naval Combat Strategies from Shadyislepirates.com, Choosing Naval Tactics for Your Pre-Gunpowder World from Mythcreants.com, and The First Punic War: Audacity and Hubris from the U.S. Naval Institute. So, if you're still wanting more information, those are all excellent resources to check.

-Starke

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[uss-edsall]

Why did the British and Americans followed the Washington treaty for so long despite the fact the Japanese gave up on it and Germans or Italians barely adhered to it in the first place?

It’s a combination of the Great Depression, the treaty having given them the largest ratio of allowed forces, in some cases the treaties actually allowing more than they actually had, and a truly desperate desire to believe WWI really had been the war to end all wars.

With reduced budgets from the Great Depression laying waste to swathes of naval plans, adhering to the treaty was seen as a good compromise with the bean counters. The London Naval Treaties that followed added additional stipulations or raised the capacity allowed - the 1930 treaty, for example, had a higher capacity than the US actually had for cruisers, and the US immediately started building some to make up the difference (and add some jobs to offset the depression).

There are additional factors like the American Nye Committee, which investigated whether or not war profiteering from arms manufacturers helped the US enter World War I - Congress finding little evidence didn’t assuage American public fears. The idea of the US expanding its military in the 1930s had very little domestic support. This being said, the US didn’t entirely stay with it either, in 1938, seeing as how everyone had ditched the conference, Congress agreed to building another Yorktown-class carrier - USS Hornet - and the Navy began designing the Essex-class. In the 1935 London treaty the US pushed for an ‘escalator clause’ on the limitation to 14-inch guns on battleships, allowing 16-inch guns if a Washington Treaty signatory refused to sign by 1937, which happened, and is why the Iowa-class was built with 16-inch guns instead of the 14-inch guns originally envisioned.

So, long story short: both the UK and the US saw the treaty to their benefit. It assuaged fears of warmongering at home, kept the budget down, gave them the highest allocation of forces, and then they gamed the system anyway. Adhering to the treaty was better for the domestic view and re-election then abandoning it, a sort of ‘we’re honourable, we don’t abandon treaties we sign’ deal. But by the late 30s both nations were aware it wasn’t going to last, both started to breach the 1935 conference years before its expiration date of 1942 - and Germany’s invasion of Poland in 1939 effectively made the treaties and their limitations cease to exist.

[yuri-is-online]

My brain is whirring in the blender right now so here are the things I think twst characters would find interesting/horrifying

Atom bombs. Why would they need atom bombs? Wars were either fought with magic or swords if lilias backstory is standard war procedure. And in endless halloween, leona tells a (fake) story about a terrorist group on a yaht party or something that attacked with a magic cube. Also that whole moment with Oppenheimer where he didn't know if igniting that bomb would set off a chain reaction that would ignite all the other bombs and basically destroy the world. AND HE STILL FUCKING DID IT.

Gun. Same reasons as the atom bombs.

French revolution and the reign of terror. What do you mean 40,000 were executed and over 300,000 locked up in the time span if a few years? Why did the "french" switch between so many governments so fast? Who the hell is napoleon?

Russian revolution and Anastasia. that revolution was MESSY. But imagine telling leona or someone about how everyone thought that princess Anastasia and her brother escaped execution cause they couldn't find their bodies with the rest of the royal family. So all these middle aged women just started coming out being like "I am Anastasia", and one of these women was eventually accepted as Anastasia. Until they found out that thr royal family were submerge in vats of acid after they were killed, and because children's bones aren't quite solid, the just. Melted in the acid.

The whole mystery of those villages getting up one day and dancing themselves to death and we still don't know why.

Medieval torture devices. Like the crowd cage or when you get covered in honey and sent away on a boat to be eaten alive by bugs (jamil throws up)

The black plauge. Just. The black plauge.

Early Industrial revolution working conditions. I think even azul would get uncomfortable with those.

Mansu Musa going on tour and giving away so much gold that he collapsed entire economies.

The cold War. "Yeah so the US and the USSR were in a war-not-war because of paranoia of nuclear atom bombs but they couldn't actually go to war because if they actually went to war that would just be the end of the world so they just had a massive dick messering contest. Oh yeah! That's actually why we got the space race!"

The space race. ("The fucking moon in the sky!" "Yes azul, the moon in the sky. And Mars. And there are satellites that literally went to the cold cold edge of our solar system" "...why are you guys insane?")

American prohibition laws and the outlawing of alcohol that everyone hated so much that the government legalized alcohol again and now we have this thing called moonshine.

Mexican revolution and the solid century where their presidents just kept getting assassinated.

The greatest night in pop "we are the world". Just as a treat for the pop music club.

The entire age of exploration honestly. "What do you mean half your world didn't know the other half of the world was there until a few centuries ago?" "Oh you're gonna shit yourself when you find out what Europeans did next"

What the Europeans did next.

The world wars. Lilia has a fucking stroke while listening to it. But some of it was funny! Not really but yk! A polish bear loading an artillery Canon, an unsinkable cat, that British guy that carried a bow and arrow and played bag pipes when the nazis found him only to be the most unkillable yet unserious guy ever, a US naval captain that literally FLOODED HALF HIS SHIP on D-Day just to tilt that bitch back so they could hit the Germans better, and the US just converting a spare ship into a massive ice cream machine is pretty fucking hilarious.

The coups of the ancient past. I don't really remember who but I think this Indian (?) Prince literally threw his brother out a window, dragged him back upstairs, only to throw him out again for good measure is fucking hilarious.

The mono Lisa wasn't famous until this Guy™ stole it from a museum. The museum employs didn't even realize it was gone until someone asked where it went 💀

The way we name our countries tbh. Most of them translate to some ancient language (Spain translates to "rabbits" and Columbia is "dove"), but twst really has countries like. "Scolding Sands ✨️ and Queendom of Roses ✨️. So our country names are probably really weird to them. Especially the full country names. Do you know Hong Kongs official name? It's long as shit.

The first chainsaw was invented by two socttish doctors in the early 1800s to help with childbirth

I have many more historically rambling I could go on but this shit is getting long.

If anyone at any point wants to ramble about history they are very welcome to do so in my literal dms and not just my ask box. I love history and I love talking about it!!!

I think out of all of the things you listed the atom bomb, the space race, and the Cold War would probably be the what I think the various twst boys would find most interesting. Even in the history of our own world those things were extremely unusual, the sheer scale of something like a world war is really hard to grasp and I doubt Twisted Wonderland has had a similar event. I think the concept of such a thing would really scare the cast, though I imagine Idia, Leona, and Lilia would be grimly impressed at just how creative people can be when it comes to destroying each other. Magic isn't required to make a mess of things, sure they already knew that but oh wow. Now they're really thinking about it.

Now you know who would want to talk about all of these things? Professor Trein! He'd be really interested in learning anything and everything Yuu can remember about the history of their world. As an educator it allows him better insight into his student, and as a lover of history he gets to learn a lot of new things no one else knows.