#Naval review

[lonestarbattleship]

USS OREGON (BB-3) in New York Harbor during the Spanish-American War victory naval review.

Note: the side-wheel steamer in the right background, belonging to the Iron Steamboat Co.

Date: August 20-21, 1898

U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command: NH 105572

[clove-pinks]

Another Midshipman Monday and I feel like I am approaching the end of the anglophone world's collection of midshipman pictures. I am on national archives, libraries, and museum pages from the US, UK, and Canada (sometimes Australia), various auction sites, and I've already searched the Rijksmuseum for adelborsten.

So I thought I would give the Bibliothèque nationale de France a try and search for aspirants de marine and find—USS CONSTITUTION???!

About 30 seconds after the shock wore off I started wanting to read this BD series, and the more I look into it the more I seriously want to get my hands on Franck Bonnet's USS Constitution comic series, which is meticulously researched and starts in 1803 with the Barbary Wars.

I'm not sure if they even get to the War of 1812 at this point, but with multiple volumes and a focus on USS Constitution the outlook is promising! Besides, how else is typical American midshipman Pierre-Mary Corbières supposed to advance in his career? (Yes that's really the main character's name).

The books have a nautical glossary and diagrams too! Finally I will learn the French Boat Words, once I get around to reading these.

[jamesfitzjamesdotcom]

My thoughts on Matthew Betts' 'HMS Terror', which book contains some questionable statements about Fitzjames and Admiralty orders:

[roncy89]

3 Books Every Twenty-Something Should Read (By a Twenty-Something)

(In no particular order)

The Defining Decade by Dr. Meg Jay

This book has been my go-to for various points of my college (and now post-grad) career. Whenever I felt that I was "lost" or had a "mid-life crisis", this book always came to the rescue.

In this book, Meg Jay goes through how to best use your 20s. Whether that be through relationships, hobbies, education and career choices. She also expands on the concept of developing identity capital which is a collection of things that make you, you. One of my favourite quotes by Meg is, "“Twentysomething is like airplanes, planes just leaving New York City-bound somewhere west. Right after takeoff, a slight course change is a difference between landing in either Seattle or San Diego. But once a plane is nearly in San Diego, only a big detour will redirect it to the northwest.”

2. Quit Like a Millionaire by Bryce Leung and Kristy Shen

This is a personal finance book that details how a Canadian couple, Bryce and Kristy, retired in their thirties. Both working as software engineers, they sought to buy a home in Toronto but found that getting into the housing market was out of reach. Instead, they opted to use the money that could have gone towards a house into the stock market where they were both able to retire and travel the world.

Reading this opened my eyes to the various possibilities and routes to financial independence. One that isn't defeatist about the current housing market, but rather optimistic about other possibilities!

3. The Almanack of Naval Ravikant

The writer, Naval Ravikant, is the founder of various companies in Silicon Valley and wrote a guide to building wealth and emotional well-being unlike anything else I've seen. Most books I read surrounding generating wealth are pretty redundant, but what I found by reading this book was that everything written was unique yet so simple.

[like-a-best-friend-but-more]

Corsairs Legacy Review

Os criadores levaram os comentários a sério e se concentraram no motivo pelo qual esse mecanismo e os jogos eram famosos. Temos um mundo aberto (pequeno, mas lembre-se que é acesso antecipado). Tem missões paralelas, embarques, lutas marítimas (Finalmente sentindo o que gostei até vi uma ideia para imóveis). Se os desenvolvedores lançassem o jogo neste estado, eu perdoaria qualquer erro e a reação dos jogadores seria muito melhor. Se eu recomendo? Se você está pronto para bugs, mau desempenho do título, mas ainda assim um jogo que finalmente começa a oferecer o que Piratas do Caribe de 2003, Sea Dogs, Age of Pirates eram famosos, provavelmente significa alguma coisa. Os criadores poderão continuar? Veremos.

[ranger-chris61]

Have not be able to get around to posting this as I have alot on plate the last 2 months. Doing a naval kit for the first time in a while, with Hasegawa's 1/700th scale IJN Furutaka Heavy Cruiser kit

[feddy-34]

this is actually what writing fanfic is all about. btw.

[trickphotography2]

The Perfect Match

Every third week in March, fourth year medical students find out where they'll be going for their residency. A quick 2.2K word one-shot of Jake's girlfriend going through that process.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The nervous energy in the auditorium was almost overwhelming as the clock ticked closer to 11:50AM. All across the US, fourth-year medical students gathered in ceremonies like this, ready to find out where they would be headed in just a few months to begin their residency. It had been a long week - on Monday, everyone received an email letting them know if a residency program had selected them. For those who got one, it was a waiting game to see where they would be moving. Those who hadn't been selected went through the nerve-wracking SOAP process, hoping to secure a job after graduation. With the number of medical graduates increasing faster than residency positions, it wasn't always a guarantee. 

You, however, already knew where you were going and what specialty you would be practicing. For months last year, you'd flown across the country, interviewing with residency programs at different installations and civilian hospitals—backups in case you didn’t match with a base hospital and had to compete for a civilian spot. And a perk of matching through the military was getting notified of your posting in mid-December, while civilians had to wait until the third week of March. 

On December 15th, you received that wonderful email alerting you that you had matched into Emergency Medicine at Naval Medical Center San Diego. Not only was Emergency Medicine a competitive specialty, but the location meant that you would finally be able to be close to your long-distance boyfriend, Jake, after seven long years.

A chance encounter over Spring Break freshman year led to late-night calls when he returned to Annapolis and you to College Park. For four years, you lived 35 minutes apart in Maryland, stealing as much time as possible together over the weekends. And after graduation, you had a long conversation about your future.

Jake had been clear from the beginning that he wanted to be a pilot, just as you had been firm about attending medical school. He supported you as you struggled through Organic and Biochemistry and tutored you in Physics. He would try not to laugh as you traced his skin, naming the muscles, bones, and systems as you reviewed for anatomy. Care packages showed up at your apartment when you spent as much time as you could getting clinical hours, volunteering in a research lab, and studying for the MCAT. Jake knew how important getting your CV ready was and tried not to complain too much when your weekends spent together were mainly catching up on chores or sleep.

Senior year, you were offered a spot at Florida State University College of Medicine. Jake had been notified in his junior year that he had been accepted into the flight program.

After graduation, you and Jake packed up your things and drove to Florida together. He had a few weeks until he had to report to Pensacola, just a 3-hour drive down I-10 from where you would be in Tallahassee. The apartment you got was right across the street from the med school, a small one-bedroom, but you knew you wouldn’t spend much time there anyway. It would be a place to eat and sleep, but most of your time would be spent on campus or driving to Jake’s in Pensacola. He would only be there for a few months until transitioning to the next base, and you wanted to spend as much time together as possible. 

Unlike other medical schools, FSU required students to start in the summer to complete the Anatomy course. Over the short term, students would complete a full-body dissection. The smell of formaldehyde became commonplace, and the TAs warned you to wear shoes and scrubs you wouldn’t hate to throw away in August. 

They were right. 

It was a rough transition to med school, but it was manageable. And you loved it. Your professors ensured you treated the cadavers with the utmost respect while gently encouraging competition by announcing a dissection team winning each week. The faculty brought you to a rural community to learn about rural medicine, sharing food and stories with those less fortunate. The physician assistant students joined on the trip, and you learned about an inter-professional day that you’d be expected to participate in later - role-playing a case with MD, PA, pharmacy, and social work students. 

And while you were working toward your dream, Jake was getting closer to his. Nights were spent catching up, and he was so excited to tell you about his flight training. He promised to get his civilian pilot license as soon as possible and rent a plane to take you up in the air. On the rare weekend you didn’t need to spend in the anatomy lab cramming for an exam, you drove to his place late Friday night and headed back to Tally on Sunday morning. 

In August, Jake requested time off to come and see you celebrate finishing your first semester. Seated in the audience, he watched as your faculty member helped you don your first white coat, and you recited the Hippocratic oath. The one-week vacation before Fall term started wasn’t long enough, but you enjoyed waking up in Jake’s bed and going to the beach.  

Joining the military had never been in your future, but the longer you spent around Jake and his friends, the more commissioning in the Navy seemed attractive. A medical officer recruiter spoke at the college, and you signed your paperwork. After spending a few weeks working in a clinic during the summer after the first year, you headed to Rhode Island to complete Officer Training. Jake called you as soon as you graduated, welcoming you into the service with only some light teasing about outranking you. As an Ensign, you would be forced to salute your Lieutenant boyfriend when you saw him. 

It was harder to see each other when he graduated from flight school and was stationed in California, but you managed to get by with phone calls and vacations. Toward the end of your second year, Jake was sent on deployment as you studied for the Step 1 exam - testing your foundational knowledge and one of the most intimidating exams you faced. The school gave you dedicated study time, and you took advantage of his offer to study at his apartment in Lemoore. His buddy, Coyote, met you at the airport and drove you to Jake’s apartment. A bouquet of flowers was sitting on the counter, and you stared at them as you mentally ran through Anki decks to quiz yourself.  

Jake came home the last week you were there. Fully recovered from the 8-hour exam, you greeted him with all the other family members on the flight line. It was the first time you saw him in his jet, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated the sight. But too soon, you had to return to Florida and pack up your apartment in Tally to move to Pensacola for your last two years of medical school. On your last night in Lemoore, Jake took you out dancing and promised he would request leave to visit soon. 

Between your rotations and his shitty schedule as a junior officer, it was hard to see one another. At the end of your third year, you hit a rocky spot and talked about breaking up. But cooler heads prevailed, and you promised to do your best to match into a residency near him. He agreed to try and get orders to be closer to you once you graduated. 

Jake had been your first call on December 15th. Sobbing, you told him you’d join him in San Diego, where he’d been stationed for the last four months. 

The last-minute plane tickets had been expensive, but it had been so worth it to spend Christmas with him, making plans to move your stuff across the country, and finally be together. He’d held your hand as you pulled your name from the NBME Match Database, officially alerting the civilian hospitals you’d interviewed at that you were no longer hoping to match with them. 

So, while your friends waited anxiously to open their envelopes, you felt a sense of calm. In nine short weeks, you would be back in this auditorium wearing your dress whites under your cap and gown. After getting your diploma, your new orders would be published, and you would be promoted to Lieutenant. And after? Jake was scheduled to return from a deployment in a month and requested leave to help you pack up your apartment and start the cross-country road trip. 

Eight years of hard work would culminate in moving in with the man you loved. Who could support you in person as you went through the hell of residency and got used to being a full-time Naval officer. 

The Dean crossed the stage and welcomed everyone. As the clock struck noon, she encouraged everyone to open their envelopes.

Tearing it open, you stared at the words confirming your future - Emergency Medicine, Naval Medical Center San Diego. 

Jake.

Cheers broke out, and you turned to hug your friends as they screamed with happiness or smiled to hide disappointment on not getting their top choice. 

The ceremony began with each regional campus called up to allow the students to announce their match.

You hadn’t planned on going on stage. The trip back to Tally had only been to see your favorite staff members and to support your friends as they found out where they would be moving. They had brought their family members, partners, and kids to share in the moment. You had come alone, preferring your family to go to graduation instead. But your friends dragged you into the line and handed your name card to the smiling staff. 

“Hi,” you said, leaning into the microphone after the Regional Campus Dean introduced you. “I just wanted to say thank you to all of my friends and family. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it through all of this. I matched in Emergency Medicine and will be moving across country to be with my boyfriend, who kept me sane throughout all of this. And I’ll be at Naval Medical Center San Diego

The crowd cheered louder than they had for any of your classmates. Blushing, you lifted your hand and waved, stepping back and quickly walking toward the Campus Dean to shake his hand. But as you neared, he smiled and took a step back.

You froze.

Jake grinned. 

Wearing his dress whites, he quickly strode toward you, pulling you into his arms. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, blinking away tears. 

“Wasn’t gonna miss your Match Day, darlin’,” he replied.

“You’re supposed to be on the carrier!” 

“Might have lied about that.” There wasn’t a trace of regret on his face. “You worked so hard for this, and I wanted to surprise you. My beautiful, smart, adrenaline junky doctor girlfriend.”

“Not yet - won’t be a doctor for another few weeks.” 

“You’ve got it in the bag. But I figured since you’re already trading in a couple of ranks - med student and Ensign…” Taking your left hand, he reached into his pocket and lowered himself to one knee. 

Vaguely, you heard the crowd get louder, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from Jake as he held out a diamond ring. 

“I thought maybe we could change girlfriend to wife. Will you marry me?” 

Unable to speak, you nodded quickly. Jake leapt to his feet and kissed you, smiling against your mouth. 

The next few minutes were a blur. You hugged the Deans while Jake shook their hands, and your parents met you off stage - Jake had called to let them in on his plan. His parents texted him after watching the proposal on the school’s livestream. After promising to meet up after the ceremony, Jake joined you in the student section while your parents returned to their seats. Your friends hugged you, whispering excitedly as you showed them your engagement ring. 

And later, after a celebratory dinner with your family and drinks at the beer garden with your classmates, you tumbled into bed with Jake. You could taste the beer on his tongue as he licked into your mouth, and you grinned when your ring caught the light and shimmered.

“Lieutenant and Lieutenant Seresin,” Jake chuckled, catching your hand and kissing your ring. “Sounds kinda nice.” 

“Mmmm,” you hummed. “My diploma will be issued in two months, Seresin. Then I’m applying for my medical license and getting all my onboarding paperwork done for NMCSD. I might have to go by my last name for a bit… but I kinda like how it sounds with Lieutenant…”

 “It does sound nice,” he agreed. “You sayin’ I’ve got 2 months to get it official, or are you telling me you wanna keep your last name?” 

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “I’ve spent the last four years thinking I’d practice under my own name.”

“How do you feel about hyphenating?” 

Your eyebrows shot up, “You’d be okay with that?” 

“Darlin', you did the hard work, and it’s your name. As long as I can call you Doctor Seresin at home, I don’t care.”

In the middle of May, you stood at attention on stage in your whites, having quickly changed out of your cap and gown. The medical recruiter, a local chief petty officer, had been called onto the stage to publish your orders. Forcing yourself not to smile, you pressed your lips together as he read out your name — your new, hyphenated last name and all. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

Notes: I used to work in a medical school, and went through three years of working on Match Day. It was one of my favorite events because of the level of excitement. (And yes, we did have a proposal one year.) But it can also be a really hard day - as state above, the number of residency spots is lower than the number of people who graduate. Every year, people go through the SOAP process and don't match. Which means they have to find something to do for a year, and then start the process over again.

Definitely didn't plan on writing this - I think in about an hour? - but I watched a class I worked with Match today and it kicked up a lot of feelings. I had the pleasure of watching young students grow into doctors, and play some small part in that.

As always, thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for encouraging me to write this, and for giving feedback.

[lonestarbattleship]

Aircraft prepare to take off from USS SARATOGA (CV-3) during a Presidential Review by President Roosevelt, off New York City.

Note: one of SARATOGA´s two flush-deck destroyer plane guards in the upper left corner.

Date: May 31, 1934

NARA: 80-G-462893

[ncis-yp]

Ugh (Tony DiNozzo x reader) [SMUT]

Background: you and Tony had been working in different part of the NCIS you were working on a naval base but were called on in missions to help Abby or Ducky with pharmaceutical intelligence. You and Tony have been dating a few months and wanted to try sexting. You do it out of no where to surprise the other.

This morning you decided to stay home from work. After all, the pharmacy could live without you for a day, if any thing they’d call you. In the meantime, you decided you’d relax at home and get into one of the case study’s that Dr. Mallard asked you to review. Apparently there’s a combination of pills in there that Abby nor Dr. Mallard himself didn’t understand.

Tony was at already at work, you knew. But you decided you wouldn’t tell him you weren’t going. Before you had a chance to sit in your breakfast loft with your cats, Dre and Pac, your phone was buzzing. Two texts from Tony.

Tony: good morning! I passed by the Pharmacy to say good morning and offer to get you coffee. Where are you?

Tony: are you okay?

You smirked and sent back a spicy text… if you were gonna be home, you were gonna do things he couldn’t do.

You: aww that’s sweet :)

You: yeah, decided not to go work.

You: *sent photo*

Tony sat at his desk staring at a photo of you. You’re (e/c) eyes catching the early morning light, your hair pulled back haphazardly, or how you were only in your panties and an over the shoulder band tee.

Tony: wow… you’ve got me excited.

You: excited for what? Not like I did anything special

Tony: to see you. Looking like that in the morning

You: 🥰 aw so sweet! You should come over and see me

Tony: pretty girl… you know I’m at work

You: aww but can’t you take an early lunch to come see me sooner? You know I’d love to see you.

You: *sent photo*

You were playing hard ball. Teasing innocently, but God, that picture of you was so close to the opposite but Tony couldn’t say it was naughty or nice.

His open phone held a picture of you sitting with your legs crisscrossed and you hand between you thighs. He saved it and sent it to his album of pictures of you.

Tony: god you’re gorgeous. I’d love to see you too… trust me

You: thank you handsome

You: really though … come see me

Tony: I want to

You: then do it

You: *sent photo*

Tony’s heart jumped into throat. His stomach was twisting as his dick hardens in his pants. He takes a quick picture.

Tony: (y/n)…

Tony: *sent photo*

You couldn’t lie. Right now you were extremely horny. You don’t like how you teasing Tony turns into you getting needy and he won’t stop teasing.

You: I want that. Right now.

You: *sent photo*

Tony had sent himself to the bathroom to calm down. He was at work. He needed to focus. Maybe he could ask Gibbs to be on call since his apartment is being renovated. No. Work. ..Work. …Work. He managed to get somewhat of a grip. He opened his phone.

You. Legs open. Panties off and to the side. Shirt in your mouth. You were sitting in your bedroom, floor by the mirror. Your hand was between your legs, fingers in your pussy.

His mouth dropped and his dick was rock solid again. Fuck… fuck (y/n) fuck. He thought as his cock raged for her insides. He snapped a picture of himself in the mirror his dick print obvious.

Tony: look what you do to me

Tony: *sent photo*

Tony: do you see how hard my cock is for you right now?

You smiled. You were close to getting Tony. You were actively playing with your pussy, it wasn’t just for show.

You: *sent video*

Tony stood in shock. He heard your quiet moans and whimpering in the background as you slowly pleased yourself.

Tony: (y/n) wait until I get there to finish

You: oh, so you’re coming now?

Tony: no I’ll be there after work

You: sooo then I’m not waiting

You propped the phone up and set the three second timer. Making sure he saw you in action from the beginning. You laid on your back, unaware to any of the texts coming in.

Tony: (y/n) please wait.

Tony: I swear (y/n) if you cum without me your punishment will be so bad that the pleasure you’ll experience wouldn’t have been worth it

You: *sent video*

**”fuck… fuckkk” you fingered yourself at a medium pace. Racing for that orgasm. Your little whimpers began growing into deep moans. “Mmmmhmmm Tony” you groaned as you sped up pace. Roughly fucking yourself. You began tightening, body stiffening as you neared an orgasm. “Tony” you breathe as you begin to orgasm. You sped up. Almost at a feral speed to squirt. You sprayed the phone. Crying out Tony’s name and arching your back as you did.**

Tony: I’m on my way.

Tony rushed out of the bathroom to his desk. Fanning for his keys. Rushing out of the bullpen he brushed past Gibbs.

“Where you headed?”

“(L/n) isnt feeling well, her stomach hurts a lot and she can’t remember what she ate, but she’s really aching. She asked me to pick up some bread, some medicine, and Gatorade.”

“Okay”

“Can be on call today? So I can stay with her?”

“Sure. If you miss one call DiNozzo” Gibbs standing close to Tony. “I won’t let you miss work to play bookie with (y/n) anymore”

“Yeah boss”

“Good try tho. Rule #7” he acknowledged.

He ran out the building and sped to your apartment, parking his yellow ‘66 Mustang next to your black ‘78 challenger. He knocked on your door. Your tiny figure appeared in the door way. Wrapped comfortably in a blanket. He pushed you inside, picking you up as he closed the door. He kicked off his shoes as he kissed you all the way to kitchen, he set you on the bar. The two of you rushed to get most of his clothes off. You held his head as you continuously smashed your lips on his.

He set you down on floor. Pulling off his pants and boxers. He layes himself between your thighs.

“Fuck you, (y/n)” he whispered in your ear.

“Do it then, Anthony” you whisper in his. He rammed into you. You pulled his hair as he roughly fucked you on the floor.

“Do you know, how hard I tried to keep myself together (y/n)?” He bit your neck. Your nails scratching down his biceps as he fucked you relentlessly.

“No” you moan.

“No?” He growls. “Being here, dogging you before 12:00, on a Wednesday, isn’t a clue?” He said working on leaving hickeys in your neck and chest. You were leaving bite marks on his shoulders and you tightened around him. Moans of pleasure getting louder as you neared your climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkk. You’re close aren’t you?” You nodded. “Tell me when you’re about to. I want to hear you say it.”

Your moans turned him on so much more.

“I’m coming” you say breathing heavily.

“What?”

“Fuck, Tony, I’m coming”

“One more time.” His grunted as he gave three rough pounds in between each word.

“Fuckkk Anthony! I’m coming, I’m coming” you began to tear up. He pulled out and flipped you you you were face down, ass up.

“No you’re not” he growls as he hammers your pussy. The sound of balls slapping skin, and moans and grunts fillling the room.

“I’m sorry” you cry. “Daddy please let me come.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes” you scream.

“Then show me” he says letting go of your hips. “Fuck me like this to show me you’re sorry” you o eyed. Throwing your body back on his roughly but at a staggered pace. He could see your body spending and he decided to finish you off. Just the way you liked it.

“I’m sorry I fucked up my rhythm” he says in your ear. “I just want you to see how gorgeous you look” he grabs your hair and pulls your head up. Your back arched, eyes red, and tears streaming down your face. You screamed as he roughly pounded you.

“Look at you” he said sweetly. “So pretty for daddy ” your faced moved as he dogged your clenching pussy hole. “Sooo fucking beautiful”

He slapped your ass. Three painfully enjoyable slaps. He began to make some marks in your hips.

“Fuck fuck fuck (y/n). Can I bust in there?” He groans as you begin to pull him to the edge. You nodded. “Can I cum in that tight pussy?” He asks again.

“Yes please, Tony, please” you cry your core burned. You began to orgasm. He pulled your head up again. “Let’s cum together” he says as he began orgasming, filling you up, you were soaking his dick with your juices, squirting around his dick.

“Good girl” he says as he fucked you till the end of his climax. Thrusts getting sloppy as he pulled out. He collapsed next to you on the floor, pulling you close to him.

“I hope I didn’t go to rough on you” he said apologetically. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“I’m a little sore.” You admit. “But it was definitely worth the punishment” you giggle kissing his chest.

“(Y/n) I don’t want to have hurt you… you know that right?” Tony speaks.

“Good… please (y/n) let me know if it too rough…” your kiss cuts him off. He smiles dazily.

“I’ll text if you hurt me. I’ll make sure I’m honest about things I do and don’t want, I will punch you if you ever do some thing I don’t like that you keep doing.” You propped yourself up on your elbow, admiring the hickeys you left all over him. And your bite marks on his shoulder.

“Yes, exactly “ he chuckles. Your neck and chest were covered with marks. Your hips had light purple bruises already forming and you wondered what your back looked like.

“I love you” you say to Tony.

“I love you too, (y/n)” he replies kissing you deeply. “I’m going to run you a shower. And I’ll order Thai?” You nodded. He stands and helps you up. Starting your bath for you. Slapping your ass as he walks away.

“Mmm” you smile.

“Sexy” he remarks with a wink. Once he turned his back looked absolutely destroyed. Crazy marks lined his back, blood bubbling towards the top.

[gunsandspaceships]

Recruiting Peter in Civil War: a War Crime?

Today we are going to review this statement:

Tony “blackmailed a teenager to help fight his battles for him (Civil War) (which for the record, constitutes as a fucking war crime)”.

Part 1. Not a war crime: check my post about war crimes here. War crime is a crime committed during a war, by a party of the conflict.

MCU's “Civil War” was not a war. It was a conflict between a few people, that included one fight and a chase. The fight at the end of the movie between Tony and Steve with Bucky was not a part of this particular conflict, but a conflict on its own. From the government’s side, this situation was a law enforcement operation to capture a group of fugitives, where Tony’s side represented the law enforcement group under U.N. authority, not a nation’s armed forces.

The definition of Armed Forces: “the combined military, naval, and air forces of a nation��.

Source

In comics (Earth 616) it was indeed a war, but not in the MCU. That’s first.

Second, “Under the Statute of the International Criminal Court, conscripting or enlisting children into armed forces or groups constitutes a war crime in both international and non-international armed conflicts (ICC Statute, Article 8(2)(b)(xxvi) and (e)(vii)).”

Tony did not enlist Peter in the armed forces or the Avengers.

And third, “The bans on recruitment of children below the age of 15 enshrined in Article 77 of  Additional Protocol I, and in Article 4 of Additional Protocol II are also considered to prohibit accepting voluntary enlistment (P I, Art. 77 (2); P II, Art. 4(3)(c)).”

“2. The Parties to the conflict shall take all feasible measures in order that children who have not attained the age of fifteen years do not take a direct part in hostilities and, in particular, they shall refrain from recruiting them into their armed forces. In recruiting among those persons who have attained the age of fifteen years but who have not attained the age of eighteen years, the Parties to the conflict shall endeavour to give priority to those who are oldest.” (Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, Art. 77 (2)).

Here we got to an actual error from the SMFFH filmmakers’ side. Before SMFFH Peter’s age at the time of Civil War was planned to be 15 (see directors’ and screenwriters’ commentaries). In SMFFH Peter’s birthday was set to Aug 10, 2001, making him 14 years old at the time of Civil War. We cannot use random date placements made by SMFFH creators to define serious stuff, and also use another movie’s filmmakers’ decisions that were made after Civil War. So we must go with the fact that at the time of Civil War Peter was 15 years old, as was stated by the creators of CA:CW.

Conclusion: Peter was 15 years old, and if he were recruited to participate in a war, it would not be a war crime. But, he also was not enlisted in the armed forces. And Civil War was not an actual war, but a law enforcement operation under UN jurisdiction. So, yes, Tony is not a war criminal. Again. Very disappointing.

If you guys have any other ideas of how to accuse him of war crimes – go ahead. I’ll check them all.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Steven Monacelli and Tristan Lee at Texas Observer:

Under owner Elon Musk, the social media site X, formerly known as Twitter, has become a hotbed of white supremacist and neo-Nazi content. A recent headline in the Atlantic doesn’t mince words: “X is a white supremacist site.” Musk has allowed formerly banned far-right and neo-Nazi accounts back on the platform, and, in some instances, he’s directly responded to accounts that traffic in white supremacist and neo-Nazi rhetoric. Meanwhile, anonymous accounts that regularly promote racial hate on the platform have seen their follower counts grow substantially as Musk has taken a more hands-off approach to moderation compared to the social media network’s prior owners.  Anonymity has long been a tactic used by extremists to spread their ideology while avoiding consequences, from Klansmen hoods to online pseudonyms. With such ideas spreading rapidly on X, the Texas Observer has identified the operators of four anonymous accounts that regularly share racist, antisemitic, and neo-Nazi content on the platform. Three of the operators appear to live or have claimed to own property in Texas, where X moderation operations are based and Musk resides.

Through reviewing posts on X, web archives, leak databases, and other social media profiles, the Observer identified the following individuals as the anonymous operators of neo-Nazi X accounts, which had a collective 500,000 followers at their peak: Cyan Cruz, a 40-year-old marketing professional who appears to have lived in Austin and Amarillo and operates the X account TheOfficial1984; Michael Gramer, a 42-year-old retired mechanical engineer who has lived in New Hampshire, operates the X account 9mm_SMG, and has claimed to have a house in Galveston and to be spending time in Dallas; Robert “Bobby” Thorne, a 35-year-old vice president at JP Morgan Chase in Plano, who operates the account Noble1945 and previously operated the account Noble_x_x_; and John Anthony Provenzano, a 30-year-old who appears to live in Virginia, operates the account utism_ (formerly known as JohnnyBullzeye), and, according to a tip and a records request response from the U.S. Navy, works at the Naval Surface Warfare Center in Indian Head, Maryland—where the Navy manufactures explosive ordnance.

These individuals are part of a broader ecosystem of far-right accounts that have rapidly expanded their reach in recent months. They are among the most popular white nationalist and neo-Nazi accounts on X whose operators have not yet been publicly identified. (While this article was in production, the Anti-Defamation League also identified Cruz as the operator of TheOfficial1984.) Their rise to prominence tracks with a dramatic decrease in moderation of hateful content on the platform, which dropped from 1 million moderated accounts in 2021 to only 2,361 accounts in the most recent 2024 X transparency report. Posts from these individuals have received tens of millions of views over the last year and a half. The accounts have also attracted the attention of major public figures. Two of the accounts have received replies from the X account of Elon Musk, who has said he writes all of his own X posts and who, as reported by Mother Jones, has amplified users who promote pseudoscientific arguments that those of European descent are biologically superior. Three of the accounts are followed by a sitting congressman, and many other right-wing media figures and outlets follow at least one of the four accounts.

All four accounts follow the other three, and all four have interacted with at least two of the other three in posts, replies, and spaces on X. The host of a June 2024 X space, an online voice chat room on the X platform, focused on “JQ 101”—“JQ” being an abbreviation used by anti-semitic extremists for the “Jewish Question”—tagged all four of the accounts in a post promoting the gathering, in which three of the four accounts participated. Nearly 17,000 listeners tuned into the conversation. On July 9, Musk posted two replies to Cruz’s account TheOfficial1984, which Cruz has used to post pro-Hitler, Holocaust denial, and other antisemitic content. Musk’s posts were in response to TheOfficial1984’s call to reinstate a prominent neo-Nazi account, Lucas Gage, who had been banned for six months. In the replies, Musk explained that Gage had been temporarily banned for “repeated and clear calls for violence” and identified one of Gage’s many antisemitic posts as the specific reason. While Gage cannot currently post, his virulently antisemitic posts from prior to the ban remain visible on X, with many having hundreds of thousands of views. On July 23, Musk replied to Gramer’s account 9mm_smg, which Gramer has used to make posts referring to neo-Nazi tropes such as the “14 Words” and “blood and soil” and identifying himself as a white nationalist. Musk’s reply was a laughing emoji in response to a post about a community note—a feature that allows users to add context under a post if enough users vote on it—that described Vice President Kamala Harris as former TV host Montel Williams’ “main hoe,” which 9mm_smg described as “the greatest community note of all time.”  Musk’s engagement with these accounts may fit a pattern of the mogul amplifying far-right views on X, including promoting Tucker Carlson’s interview with a Nazi apologist, in a since-deleted post, and explicitly agreeing with an antisemitic conspiracy theory, for which he later apologized. 

Texas Observer doing the Lord’s work in exposing the people behind the four Neo-Nazi accounts that have major followings on X.

[like-a-best-friend-but-more]

Tempest Review

No geral o jogo não é ruim: Gráficos 4 de 5- apesar de este jogo também ser para dispositivos móveis. Gostaria que o detalhamento dos navios fosse melhorado. O enredo é um disparate e não tem um papel especial no jogo. A jogabilidade não é ruim. As pequenas coisas parecem boas. São muitos navios, diversas munições, artefatos, melhoria e customização de navios... tudo está presente. Como o jogo é barato, aconselho você a assistir e jogar por pelo menos 2 a 3 horas.

[ranger-chris61]

Changing things up and going big this week with a look at Takom's 1/72nd scale HMS Hood turret kit.

[sky-kiss]

Raphael x Tav: Coffee Shop AU Pt. 2

A/N: Continuing from this, because someone wanted Raphael's POV and I wanted to goof off instead of writing serious things.

______

She’s a Barista. How Did it Come to This?

______

As a professor of the English language and literature on the whole, Raphael has no small amount of experience when it comes to divining an author’s intent and reading subtext. Years of honing these talents allow him to translate Haarlep’s intended message: ask the barista out. 

What he actually says is, “It’s been seven months, old man, is this a joke? Skip dinner and fuck the poor thing sideways.” Which is uncouth, uncivil, and utterly par for the course for the younger man. 

“Why are you here?”

Haarlep shrugs. He’s currently sprawled out across the only sofa in the teacher’s lounge, both monopolizing the space and looking too cramped on the loveseat. Korilla rolls her eyes, leaning over his feet to pluck another paper from the pile. The University has afforded him two assistants this semester. Only one is pulling their weight. But Haarlep’s is not without use. Between himself and his assistant, he has never seen: 

Such positive class reviews. 

So many female students with a vested interest in classical literature. 

It’s frankly uncanny. 

“You’d be happier for taking my advice.” 

“Not everyone is playing ‘catch the venereal' disease, Haarlep,” Korilla mutters. Haarlep shoots her a look. Something unspoken passes between them. In the absence of words (and Korilla’s repentance), Haarlep digs their heel into her thigh before sitting up. 

“Oh, take me with you. One evening, Raphael. That's all I need. And you and your sweet barista will be happy little lambs.” 

“Aren’t you busy?” Raphael eyes the essays. 

Haarlep waves him off. “Unimportant. I hate to see you so solemn, dear. Please.” 

And unfortunately, there’s no denying Haarlep anything once they’re in full flow. Gods save them all. 

_________

Fifteen minutes into the drive, he insists on silence. Raphael is always one for a good discussion, but Haarlep is a peculiar breed. He whiplashes from topic to topic with an alacrity most find disorienting and asserts opinions so occasionally outlandish that Raphael wonders if he believes them. The smirk says he doesn’t; half of what they do is for their amusement, the little shit. 

“You must like her,” Haarlep mutters. “The cafe might as well be in a different city.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’re half an hour from campus.” 

“Mmm.” 

He doesn’t like that sound one bit. Or the look his assistant is giving him. Raphael grumbles, motioning for the younger man to go ahead of him. The bell on the door chimes when they step inside, and he’s overcome with that feeling of peace.

Tav’s shop smells equal parts coffee shop and bookstore, the slightly spicy scent of old paper lingering on the air. He associates the smell with snowy mornings spent indoors, curled beneath his covers, safe and comfortable. There are seating areas and tables, yes, indicative of any metropolitan cafe. It’s the books he fell in love with. Shelves and shelves of books, of all genres and ages. You were as likely to find a history of naval battles as you were an airport bestseller or romance. 

Haarlep pulls a face. “It smells like a library.” 

“That will be the books, you troglodyte.” 

They accept the gibe gamely enough, stuffing their hands in their pockets. Haarlep scans the place with their frankly unsettling, at times preternatural, gaze, weighing every barista. They linger on Tav. “That one?” 

“How…” 

“Raphael, you are aware of what attraction looks like, yes? Do you have some cursory awareness? That girl looked at you with the stupidest doe-eyes when you walked in. It made me a little upset. Or nauseous.” He waved a hand. “Hard to say which.” 

“Your dramatics are noted, Haarlep. Find a book. I’ll order for us.” 

“Oh, good. More reading.” 

He is very aware of Haarlep’s eyes on him as he approaches the counter. It pales in comparison to the roiling feeling in his gut. The voice in his head (sounding too much like his father) screams every time he gets close. She’s too young; they’re from different worlds. She won’t look at him. If she’s polite, it’s because she’s paid to be polite, Raphael. Tav smiles at him; the expression lights up the entirety of her face. He thinks, in that moment, that she is one of the most singularly lovely creatures he’s seen. 

“Raphael!” She uses his name. Tav leans forward on the counter, beckoning him nearer. Her little friends behind the counter share a look among themselves, snickering. “I took your advice.” She points to a shelf on the left side of the store. He recognizes the book: one of his recommendations. “You were right. I couldn’t put it down. I figured others might enjoy it too. If you have any more suggestions…” 

“Of course. Of course! It’s…very nearly my profession!” 

“Isn’t that your profession?” 

He smirks, dipping into a half bow. “Among other things. You’ll find me a font of philosophy and tired rhetoric. Should it ever strike your fancy.” 

“Mmm. You do know how to sweet talk a girl.”

He thinks he hears Haarlep groan from across the cafe. Tav is looking at him, and the weight of that stare leaves him parched or hungry. Raphael clears his throat. “May I ask how you found the ending?” 

“Why doesn’t she explain it to you,” Shadowheart says, sliding a coffee to him. “Over dinner? Say six?” 

Haarlep winds an arm around his waist, resting their chin on his shoulder. “Six is perfect, my beauty. He can’t wait. Italian?” 

“Her absolute favorite. Passatempo?” 

Haarlep reaches out to shake the she-elf’s hand. “He’s never been. But he’s so eager to try.” 

It is, perhaps, the most surreal way he’s ever gotten a date. Tav stares at him in sputtering horror, her face a vibrant red. Raphael saves her, writing his number on one of the cafe’s business cards. He hands it to her. “My number. I look forward to our…” 

“...date.” She finishes, so conclusively, so resolutely, that he laughs. 

“Yes. Of course.” 

[judgemark45]

(July 1986) A silhouetted view of the battleship USS IOWA (BB 61) arriving near the city of New York for the international naval review. Camera Operator: PH2 Chuck Mussi