#medal of honor profiles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

compacflt · 1 year ago

Note

if you're open to angsty prompts - tgm mission goes bad and Ice gets to accept Bradley and Mav's flags at their funerals? (but only if you're feeling angsty. if not, feel free to ignore!)

San Diego, California. November 2016.

It should not be surprising that the complicated politics of a funeral like Mitchell’s supersede even the national grief of losing him, but of course it is. The Defense Department and the new administration (loudly Tweeting out of their asses because the President-Elect hasn’t yet been sworn in) want to hold it in Arlington. Do it in D.C., show American unity, show how proud we are of our fallen aviator, who sacrificed himself for America’s national interests, bury him in Virginian soil next to Kennedy’s eternal flame… It’s not a terrible idea, geopolitically speaking. But the Republican leadership of the state of Texas wants a piece of him, too. Why not bury him in the National Cemetery in Dallas? That’s where he’s from. Lay him to rest in the soil of his forefathers, as all good men should be. But the entire Pacific Fleet of the United States Navy, it is argued by people who aren’t Kazansky, also has a stake in this. Bury him at sea. He gave his life for the Navy. This is how it ought to be. Bury both Mitchell and Bradshaw at sea the way we buried other American Navy heroes like John Paul Jones. (When he hears this argument, Kazansky also remembers that we buried Osama bin Laden at sea, too.)

The whole political clusterfuck is put to rest at last in mid-November, when someone bothers to ask Kazansky what he thinks, and Kazansky says, “I’ll remind you that there’s absolutely nothing left of him to bury. But Mitchell lived in California for the last thirty years of his life. He told me he’d want to be buried in San Diego. I don’t really care where you put him. But that’s what he said he wanted.” And after Pacific Command leadership hears this and communicates it to the White House, everyone all of a sudden bends over backwards to organize a joint funeral in San Diego, where Bradshaw’s parents are buried, anyway. Maybe it really is fitting. Okay.

It’s a funny thing, ritual. The military’s full of it. A funeral: that’s a ritual. So, too, is promotion, retirement, commissioning in the first place. So, too, is the everyday ritual of getting dressed, donning battle gear, which today is dress blues, the way it was the day Mitchell died. Medals instead of ribbons. The President posthumously gave Bradshaw and Mitchell Medals of Honor. Their bodies would be wearing them, if there were bodies to bury. The President prehumously gave Kazansky and Seresin Medals of Honor as well. Kazansky’s is sitting around his throat like a noose. He feels like nothing but a body himself, no soul, already passed-on. They’ll lower Mitchell’s empty casket into the ground this afternoon and Kazansky’s already thinking about climbing inside it before they do. He’s not so un-self-aware that he can’t see the absurdity in that thought. But he’s also not so self-aware that he isn’t having that thought.

It’s the highest-profile funeral Kazansky’s attended in a few years. The Secretary of State is here. The Secretary of Defense is here. The Secretary of the Navy is here. The Vice President is here. He, too, has only recently lost a son; he, too, has already lost someone he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. They don’t talk, but when they shake hands, it feels like stronger solidarity than all the Sorry for your losses Kazansky’s received over the past couple weeks. Everyone here knows about him and Mitchell, in a way that had once been Kazansky’s worst nightmare; now, his actual worst nightmare having been realized, he can’t bring himself to care, and no one’s making a big deal out of it. When they say, Sorry for your loss, they don’t mean in the “loss of two highly strategic assets for the U.S. Pacific Fleet” sense, they mean in the “loss of the only two people you cared about more than your career” sense. Sorry for your loss. It’s not so bad. And because everyone knows, in a way that had once been Kazansky’s worst nightmare, no one bats an eye when Kazansky realizes his actual worst nightmare and accepts Mitchell’s folded flag. No, they weren’t legal family. But everyone knows they were close enough.

He tacks his own Naval aviator wings onto Mitchell’s empty casket. Twenty-one guns fire. He salutes. They lower two empty caskets into the ground and he’s still standing. It doesn’t really mean anything. It’s not really a goodbye, because neither Mitchell nor Bradshaw are actually inside. He watches Seresin struggle not to cry. He stands before a few hundred people and makes a short boring speech about service and sacrifice that he did not write. This is all political. This is all just for show. Most ritual usually is. So who gives a fuck.

He disappears before anyone can pin him down to apologize again and again, but finds that his intended hideout location has already been claimed: by the time he makes it to Goose’s grave, Seresin’s already standing there alone, his hands in his blues pockets, his cap tucked under his arm.

“I just,” says Seresin stupidly. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face is sallow. They’ve never really spoken, the two of them, but Kazansky’s heard the rumors about him and Bradshaw. And he’s sure Seresin’s heard the rumors about him and Mitchell. They’re in the same leaking boat, here. “Bradley talked about him all the time.” Gestures down to the grave. “And about you. And about Maverick.”

Kazansky says, “Would you want to have lunch with me? I’m not very hungry. But maybe we can talk.” He’s trying. Too little too late, but he’s trying.

He exchanges his jingling blues coat for a regular suit jacket in the armored Suburban. Takes the Medal of Honor off as he does. Seresin, still only a lieutenant, doesn’t have the luxury of a general staff who will carry around a wardrobe change on his behalf. He’s gonna have to make do with his dress blues. He’s nervously fingering the Medal of Honor around his neck, and will continue to do so long after they’ve taken their seats in a restaurant downtown where Kazansky used to take Mitchell out for dinner, not so long ago. He can hear his chief flag aide kindly whispering to their waiter: Somewhere in the back. Where they won’t be bothered. Everyone’s being so kind.

“I could kill him,” Seresin says after a few minutes.

“Who?” says Kazansky incuriously. He’s been running his fingers over the condensation on his water glass. Now his fingertips are wet. Actions and consequences.

“Cyclone. He’s the one who refused to send me. And he didn’t launch search-and-rescue, either.”

Kazansky blinks, then looks down at his menu. “No, son, that was me.”

Seresin’s Then I could kill you goes unsaid. It’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Kazansky’s read through the menu—every word—twice. Then Seresin says, “Why?”

“You would’ve searched for the rest of your life and rescued nothing, and blamed yourself.”

“I blame myself for not going anyway. For not disobeying orders. —Maverick would’ve gone.”

Yeah, he probably would have. Kazansky remembers, in a split second, a story Mitchell had only told him a few years ago, lying next to him in the dark, a little tipsy after dinner and touchy-feely as he always was lying next to Kazansky in the dark: I don’t think I ever told you the story of how I saved Cougar’s life. His warm hands, gentle and unhurried, sliding up and down Kazansky’s abdomen: it’s so funny the details you choose to overlook at the time, and only remember when you lose them. / Well, I never wanted to ask. You hate telling those stories, I thought, Kazansky had said. Because it was true. At any party, Mitchell could tell the stories of how he saved Cougar’s life and how he ejected out of a flat spin at TOPGUN and how he shot down three MiGs not two weeks later—but he’d always have nightmares about all of it the night after. He hated telling those stories. He’d only do it if people asked, so Kazansky never asked. / You’re here in bed next to me, Mitchell said, so I’ll sleep just fine. Let me be a hero for you for once. —It was the day I saw that first Soviet MiG up close. Remember that? Negative four-G inverted dive? That was real, baby. Scared the shit outta Cougar. Messed him up bad. I mean, he thought we were all cooked. He wasn’t gonna land, I mean. Or if he tried, he was gonna plow right into the side of the boat. Couldn’t see straight. You ever been so scared you couldn’t see straight? He was dipping his wings, power too low, basically drunk-driving his Tomcat, I mean, it was freaky. So I touch-and-goed my F-14. / Against orders, surely, Kazansky’d said. / Oh, of course. You’ve met me, haven’t you? Of course, against orders. We were both outta gas. But I took off again and circled around to find him, and guided him in, you know, level off, call the ball, there you go, Coug, you got it, you got it. Don’t know if he ever told you this—he probably did ten million dollars of damage to that plane. Fucked up the landing gear and snapped off his tailhook and ground up into the fuselage. / But he lived. / But he lived, Mitchell said, and that’s how I got sent to TOPGUN. And that’s—with a soft sweet kiss—how I met you. / My hero, Kazansky’d said.

“Yeah,” he says noncommittally. “Maverick would’ve gone. —But he’d have searched for the rest of his life and rescued nothing, and blamed himself.”

Seresin says, “Is that what happened with him and Bradley’s dad? Is that what happened with Goose?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for another while. The waiter comes by to take their orders. Kazansky’s not hungry and orders a beer. Seresin’s starving and orders a burger and a side of onion rings and a glass of wine.

“Can I ask you a question?” Seresin says after another few minutes. “Are you, like, a coward, or something? —That speech you gave was pretty neutered, sir. You loved him and you can’t even say it at his funeral?”

It’s a stupid, immature question. The Navy doesn’t deserve to hear that out loud. Nor does Mitchell’s empty casket. Only Mitchell did, and too late now. Kazansky shrugs. “If I were a brave man,” he says, “do you think I would have let him go?”

“I’d like to think I’m a brave man,” says Seresin. “I let Bradley go because I trusted him to come back. —Honestly, I’m kind of fucking pissed about it, to be honest. Sorry for the language. But it’s the truth. The night after he died, I mean, I went apeshit. Tore up our photos, punched the wall, cried myself fucking dry, that kind of stupid shit. I was so mad. I trusted him to come back, and he didn’t. Thought he was a good pilot. —Sorry. Is that sacrilegious to say? We aren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead, are we? I don’t care. I’m still mad about it. I know I shouldn’t be. But it’s the only thing I know how to be, is angry. Does that make sense?”

“It makes sense.”

“Are you angry?”

“Yes, but not at Mitchell. You know that saying, we have old pilots and bold pilots, but never old, bold pilots? Maverick was an old, bold pilot. We both knew he was living on borrowed time. That’s how he lived.”

“Pretty fucking defeatist.”

Kazansky shrugs again. He is a man defeated.

Seresin says, “Are you gonna be okay?” Then, in the resulting silence, he says, “Sorry, stupid question. Sorry. It’s just—“ He hesitates. It’s only now that Kazansky sees the dark circles under his eyes, the tremor in his hands, the desperation in the stiffness of his shoulders. “Look, it’s just that I don’t think I’m going to be okay, and you’re a lot older than me, and I keep thinking you have, like, the answer. Some wisdom, you know what I mean? How am I gonna be okay? You’re the Commander of the Pacific Fleet of the United States Navy. Aren’t you supposed to know what to do? Aren’t you supposed to give me orders? What do I do?”

“If I were a wise man,” Kazansky says, “do you think I would have let him go?”

Seresin is quiet. His food comes. He immediately launches into it, eats ravenously and silently for a few minutes.

Then he says, around a bite of his burger, “You know, I was gonna ask him to marry me.”

“Bradshaw?”

“Who else?”

Kazansky blinks. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah,” says Seresin. “You know, fucking everyone is.”

“Lunch is on me,” Kazansky says.

Home, afterwards, is silent and lonely. Of course it is: Mitchell’s not here. Of course. Kazansky’s settling into it. Life so rarely gives you a choice, when assigning you ritual, routine. There’s still legal paperwork to fill out. That he can do. And there are still letters of condolences to respond to: Thank you for your kind words. Maverick was… figuring out how to end that sentence will give Kazansky a way to occupy his time for a while. And there are flowers to throw out—no one wants flowers after someone they care about has died. They stink up the house and permeate everything with their reminder of grief and mourning, and you’ll find the dried petals even months later and grieve and mourn all over again. Kazansky throws them all out before they can start shedding. There are friends to call and thank for coming. “I don’t know what to say,” Slider says over the phone. / “Yeah, neither do I,” says Kazansky, so they sit in silence on the line together for a while, and that’s pretty nice. / “He was the best of us,” says Sundown, and Kazansky thinks about what Seresin had said a few hours ago: Thought he was a good pilot. It’s a cruel thought, but sometimes the only thing you can be is angry: if Maverick really was the best of us, he should’ve come home. / “You know, I’m still in his debt,” says Cougar. “He saved my life thirty years ago. It’s so fucking stupid, you know what I mean, this idea that I should’ve saved his in return? Feels like it’s my fault that he died. Maybe I’m too superstitious. I’m indebted to a fucking dead man. I’ll never be able to pay him back. —Sorry, Ice. Sorry. I don’t mean to make it all about me. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay,” says Kazansky. “Don’t, um—look, I’m just curious. How did he save your life? Would you mind telling me?”

“I don’t remember too much of it, to be honest,” says Cougar. “That’s why I quit, isn’t it? Something wrong with me. I was so scared I couldn’t see straight. You ever been so scared you couldn’t see straight? I wouldn’t have landed if it weren’t for Maverick. Or, if I had tried, I think I would’ve plowed into the side of the boat. Dipping my wings, power too low, basically drunk-driving my Tomcat. There was something wrong with me. You know, they could’ve kicked him out for that stunt, touch-and-going his F-14 like that. We were both outta gas. It could’ve killed him, too. But he guided me in. Saved my life. —I don’t think I ever told you this. I probably did about ten million dollars of damage to that plane. Fucked up my landing gear, snapped off my tailhook, ground up into the fuselage.”

“But you lived.”

“But I lived,” says Cougar. “And I came home to my family. Only ‘cause of him.”

“He was a hero.”

“He was a fucking hero,” says Cougar. “To the very fucking last. Sorry you had to go and fall in love with him. They advise against that, don’t they?”

“What, falling in love with heroes?”

“Yeah. —Sorry. Not funny.”

“A little funny. In a cosmic sense. Means it’s my own fault.”

Cougar pauses. “It wasn’t your fault, Ice.”

There’s still a Fleet to be run. Still work to be done. Kazansky can do that. People will laud him for the rest of his life for his professionalism under duress. He works when he should be grieving. Work is a ritual, too. Take some time off, sir, one of the Chief of Naval Operations’ aides had begged him. You need time. But he can’t. Only thing to do is keep working until all the work is done. The geopolitical situation after the mission, which was still classified as a success, is quite bad. They knew it would be. A bombing mission on Russian territory right near the American general election? Yeah, that’s bad. Russia’s Foreign Ministry has openly stated that if they find any remains of Mitchell and Bradshaw’s bodies, they will not extradite them home to the United States. I’m sorry you had to hear that, the President e-mailed him personally. But it’s fine. Kazansky likes the chaos. Means there’s work to do. He works.

When he can’t work anymore, because he’s done all the work that needs to be done, he takes care of another ritual. Life assigned him this one without giving him a choice, too. It’s past 2200. He turns no light on. He’s not sleeping in their bed, which is pretty cliché, and maybe he should be stronger than that, but you do have to make some concessions to your own grief when something like this happens. But he’s strong enough to sit on the side of it that had been his and open his phone and dial the number of his only favorited contact and hold the phone to his ear. It gives the dial tone five times, as is routine, and then Mitchell picks up the phone, as is routine. Hi! Captain Pete Mitchell here! Unfortunately I’m not able to come to the phone right now. Leave a message, or if it’s Navy business, you can shoot me an e-mail at C. A. P. T. dot P. dot Mitchell at navy dot mil. Thanks! Bye. Maybe Mitchell’s just busy. Maybe Mitchell’s somewhere without cell service. Maybe Mitchell’s just out flying.

Kazansky considers leaving a message, as is routine; realizes he doesn’t know what to say, as is routine; and hangs up, as is routine.

He takes all his medals off the rack of his double-breasted blues coat, packs them back into their clear-plastic-velvet boxes. He considers, momentarily, throwing out the Medal of Honor with the flowers. But he’s too self-aware to do that. He hangs up his coat on its felt-lined hanger, steams it straight, does the same to his slacks, slips the ensemble back into its garment bag, hangs it up next to Mitchell’s in their closet. This is a ritual, too. He takes a shower. He eats something. He answers a couple e-mails. He climbs into a bed that is not his own. He holds one of Mitchell’s college sweatshirts over his face and breathes in. He takes stock. His fuel gauge is reading pretty low. He knows his wings are dipping. If he really thought about it, he’d say he’s so scared he can’t see straight. And the truth is—he’s not so un-self-aware that he can’t recognize this, however numbly—Maverick’s not coming home to guide him in to land. Maverick’s never coming home again. Thought you were a good pilot. He closes his eyes. He tries to sleep.

#major character death #death #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun maverick #top gun #icemav #top gun fanfiction #asks #sorry to start out my prompt fills with maybe the most soulcrushing thing ive ever written #ngl writing this yesterday fucked me up hard #sorry to sneak more pro-brandon propaganda in here but the parallel was too good to pass up #rip beau biden i guess #forgot to tag:#bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #hangster #soundtrack for this one is Judy collins’ send in the clowns

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hananoami · 3 months ago

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Celebrating an in game milestone!! I know this feature has been around for a while now, but I really appreciate that they added this Honor Level badge to showcase on our player profiles, highlighting a Hunter's accomplishments in the Hunter Contests.

Like I still remember the first time I cleared Senior Hunter Contest with 36/36 medals back in April (as noted here). I'm kinda proud that I was able to continue with that streak for 10 seasons since then. Hopefully I can keep that momentum going.

I couldn't have done this all by myself. Special shout out to my friends for watching me suffer ahahaha for hours when they don't even know what the game is about, and offering me suggestions on how to improve my game play. I really couldn't have done it without them and their guidance. They really are the best! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#love and deepspace #senior hunter contest #;sakura snapshots #;not me rambling into the void

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theworldisyonces · 3 months ago

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Beyoncé just launched her own brand of whiskey called SirDavis. The name is in honor of Davis Hogue, Beyoncé’s paternal great-grandfather, who was a farmer and a moonshiner in the American South during Prohibition. He stashed whisky bottles in the empty knots of cedar trees for friends and kin to find and enjoy. And I’m sure “Sir” is also in honor of her son Sir. ⁣

⁣Beyoncé partnered with Moët Hennessy and five time International Whisky Competition Master Distiller of the Year, Dr. Bill Lumsden for the brand. Master Distiller Dr. Lumsden on SIRDAVIS, Beyoncé's new whisky brand: "I think whisky drinkers are going to be blown away because it's really quite different from anything I've tasted before." Beyoncé, a Japanese whisky enthusiast, sought out Moët Hennessy to help craft a one-of-a-kind flavor profile that reflected her whisky ideal. Meanwhile, Moët Hennessy had been exploring ways to deepen its presence in the American whisky market, making the timing kismet for a partnership between the world-leading luxury group and Knowles-Carter.⁣

⁣"I've always been drawn to the power and confidence I feel when drinking quality whisky and wanted to invite more people to experience that feeling," says SirDavis Founder Beyoncé Knowles-Carter. "When I discovered that my great-grandfather had been a moonshine man, it felt like my love for whisky was fated. SirDavis is a way for me to pay homage to him, uniting us through a new shared legacy. In partnering with Moët Hennessy, we have crafted a delicious American whisky that respects tradition but also empowers people to experience something new and unique in the category. You can taste it better than I could ever tell you — welcome, SirDavis."⁣

⁣Beyoncé secretly submitted SirDavis to prestigious whisky contests in 2023 under the pseudonym “Davis Hogue Distilling Company” and won several awards:⁣

🏅 Best of Class at SIP Awards⁣

🏅 Gold Medal at NY Intl Spirits Competition⁣

🏅 Highly Recommended at Ultimate Spirits Challenge⁣

⁣SirDavis already has signature cocktail drinks. SIRDAVIS' signature cocktail recipes include the "Honey Bee" and the "Texas Buckin”. 🥃🍸🍹

The whiskey costs $89.99, and will be available on Bey’s birthday September 4th. But, you can preorder on SirDavis.com right now.

#beyoncé #beyonce #beyonce giselle knowles #beyhive #queen bey #whiskey #whisky review #sirdavis #liquor #cowboy carter #moonshine

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shadecrux · 1 year ago

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On The Wing - Chapter 2

https://open.spotify.com/track/0RLwgks1gHQzXeIkaJIpHr

Previous Chapter ┃Next Chapter

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°•★Pairing: Bucky Barnes x femaleartist!reader

°•★Rating: NSFW

°•★Tags: strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, romantic AND sexual tension, flirting, pet names (doll, sweetheart), a little bit of steve!, k.i.s.s.i.n.g., metal arm (i consider that a warning), grumpy!bucky if you squint, bucky being a dork, promises of more lewdness

°•★ Words: 2275

°•★ Notes: Chapter two!! Uhh uhh only thing I can really think to note here is that while I will be writing a bit about Bucky being a soldier any resemblance to real world wars or history is accidental, as I intentionally left it vague to keep the story from veering in a different direction. I know we haven’t reached smut yet but it is coming I promise!!

~All writing unless otherwise noted is my own. Please do not post or reupload my work to other websites without my express consent. I do not consent for my fics to be used in AI creations. I do not own any of the characters featured in my works unless they are stated to be OCs.~

All of my fanworks are intended for adults aged 18 and up only! Minors please DNI. ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48744160/chapters/123378907

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I wish the rocket stayed

Over the promenade

Cus I would make a hook and eye

And fish them from the sky

My darling she and i

We’re hangin' on to take us high

And sing the world goodbye

It had been almost a year since Bucky had returned to civilian life. He had joined the army, looking to serve his country, to make the world a better place and in doing so secure for himself a better future in a life that had fallen stagnant. He was sent home halfway through his first tour of duty with an honorable discharge, several medals and awards for his acts of heroism, and one less arm for the troubles. Bucky sometimes wondered still if some of those rewards weren’t just “We’re sorry we blew your arm off” flattery, but he shrugged it off. They were gonna keep taking care of him, getting him into the best hospitals they could for treatment and rehabilitation from his injuries. The blast that took his arm would have killed his entire squadron if not for his fast actions - after saving a dozen lives it was the least they could do for him. Eventually, that meant getting him into a clinical trial for a new kind of prosthetic on the utmost cutting edge of technology. One that could fully articulate and respond to electrical impulses that controlled one’s nervous system, that could even simulate something resembling a sense of touch. It wasn’t difficult to sell the story of the war hero to get him into the clinical trials, and due to his excellent health, he was a perfect candidate for the experimental procedure. And though the surgeries left him with deep, jagged scars surrounding the connection where metal met flesh - it worked. It was celebrated as a second chance for a deserving man and as hope for a future where more people might be given their lives back after grievous injury. Despite his unique circumstances that could have easily landed him in the public eye, Bucky kept a low profile. He had insisted on a certain degree of anonymity when partaking in the trial, avoided press and requests for interviews, and even took to wearing a tight-fitted pair of leather gloves and long-sleeved shirts to hide his arm from prying eyes. He moved back to New York to try to reintegrate himself back into civilian life. Physical therapy and therapy therapy once a week, job training, cheap studio apartment in Brooklyn… His time in the army had changed him, leaving him with scars, and nightmares, jumping at loud noises and punching at shadows. He could likely have used his connections to find some more gainful sort of employment, discharge or not, but… after the things he had seen, Bucky just couldn’t stomach the idea. Not so soon, at the very least.

Still, the soldier worked on and off, odd jobs mostly, nothing with any sort of regularity. His mind and body were still healing, and the military pension he was on was enough to keep him comfortable, even if it was just making ends meet. He was just sort of… drifting, without any real cause or purpose.

It didn’t seem as though anyone could reach him to pull him out of that darkness, though that didn’t stop his childhood best friend from trying, every chance he got.

“Come on, Buck. It’s been ages since you’ve gone out - just this once, humor me?” Steve asked, giving Bucky his best sad puppy dog face. “M’ just tired, Stevie…” he muttered, unconvincingly, scrubbing a hand through his hair that was starting to grow out again. “You’re a terrible liar.” “Am not.” “You’re thinking about her again… aren’t you?” Bucky said nothing for a long moment before grunting in frustration and tossing a couch cushion at his slightly too persistent friend. “Where’d ya get so damn insightful anyway?” “Buck, it might surprise you to learn, but… you’re not a great liar. And you’re not the best at hiding your emotions, either. You know I’m always here if you need a shoulder to lean on, right?” “I know Steve. I know.” “So, should I tell the guys you won’t be making it this time?” Bucky nodded, giving Steve an apologetic half-smile. “Next time. I promise I’ll come out next time.” ——————

He’d hardly believed that you had accepted his request to join you, that you seemed to be expressing interest in a guy like him. You were different, he could tell just by looking at you - the way you dressed, the way you moved through the crowds, the way you seemed to observe the world around you with a more dedicated eye than most. You stood out in a subtle sort of way that intrigued him immediately. It had been fortunate, in a strange way that he had been gawking at you when he had been - it’s the only reason you didn’t end up squished between the roof and the side of the building.

Now that he had your company, he would do anything he could to keep it.

Bucky had taken it upon himself to act as your tour guide since you had never been to Coney Island before. He talked up the history of the park, gave his suggestions for what rides were best, and in general went above and beyond to make sure you were enjoying your time there. Coasters were your favorites, and Bucky, always fond of the more thrilling rides himself was all too happy to show them all to you. As time went on, he found himself taking your hand in his more often, under the guise of guiding you from place to place. He knew he was lying to himself, that in truth he just wanted to touch you, to feel that electric tingle each time your skin brushed his… but based on the way you clutched his hand in his, the way you sometimes chased his touch when he moved away from you, it seemed that you and he were on the same page. Conversations flowed easily, he talked about his life, and you talked about yours. He was truly blown away, hearing about all the places you had been, all the things you had done, and listened raptly to you every time you spoke. You left out the heavy stuff, of course, your history, your family… and while Bucky noticed, he wasn’t about to bring it up. It wasn’t his place to pry. He talked about his own life, his family, the interesting things he’d seen or done in all his years in the city. Sharing his love of literature and fiction, talking about his favorite sports teams or the swing dancing classes he had taken. He didn’t consider his life, or himself very interesting compared to you, all the things you’d done and exotic places you had been. Still, you gave him just as much focus as he gave you, and Bucky wondered once again just what you saw in him… but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Bucky remembered trying to convince you to ride the water rides - and you refusing as you hadn’t brought anything to change into. Eventually, though, the heat of the day had gotten to you, and with a boyish grin, he had dragged you to wait in line for their flume ride. The entire time it wound its way up the hill you were cursing silently under your breath, and he just laughed at the way your face scrunched up in annoyance. “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are when you’re annoyed?” “Fuck you.”

Your profanities only made him laugh harder - he swore he could hear an undertone of affection there, his chest swelling with warmth. You really were just too damn cute. As it made its final descent you grabbed him and tried to hide behind him looking to avoid being hit by the splash. “Oh no you don’t!” he laughed, easily grappling you and wrestling you back in front of him just as the white spray flew up around you, drenching you both in cold, chlorinated water. “Ahhh, you bastard!” You had sputtered, frantically brushing the water out of your face. “Oh come on sweetheart… you didn’t think I was gonna let you miss out on the fun, didja?” He smirked. “Mmm… you’re lucky you’re cute.” You dared to say, muttering it in frustration. You couldn’t help but laugh, though as he helped you up to your feet and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the two of you giggling all the way to the exit gates and beyond. He spent the next hour preening from your praise, and the next time he took your hand you held his tightly, stepping in closer to his side as you walked. For the rest of the day, any chance he could find your hand was in his, or his arm was slung lazily around your shoulders. The sky was beginning to fade into twilight, the lights of the midway all coming on, the park a bright glowing presence to contrast with the darkening skyline when you, at last, found your way back to the games, having ridden everything at least once. He had insisted on trying to win one of the giant animal toys for you at the games - you explained to him how most of them were rigged to be deceptively difficult, but that didn’t dissuade him. In the end, he didn’t manage to win the giant dragon plush he was aiming for - but instead, you walked away with a surprisingly soft unicorn plush, all blues and purples and little spots of silver making its fur look like a sky just filling with stars.

You had tried to play it cool when he was selecting a prize for you, but Bucky was observant enough to see your eyes continually flicking toward it, and he had the worker reaching out to grab one before you could muster a word of protest. Your singular muttered comment as you walked away about it being “too girly” made him smirk. He could bring up how he saw you hug it the moment he looked down to put his wallet away… but he decided to keep that piece of information to himself, for now.

Not one to be outdone, you insisted on staying there on the midway until you had matched or bested him - and while in the end you did no better, by the time you were walking away, arm in arm he had a prize of his own clutched to his chest - a floppy white wolf plush made in the same style of yours. Was it stereotypical to cap off the day with a big, romantic Ferris wheel ride? Maybe a little - but Bucky always had been a little traditional, at least when it came to romance. Sometimes cliches are cliche for a reason. And as you rode the bucket up to the top to take in the surrounding view, you could see why he had insisted. You could see the whole park, the white sand beaches trailing off into the distance on either side of you. On one side was the darkness of the sea, and on the other the twinkling lights of Brooklyn in the distance. It was beautiful… but not nearly as beautiful as you, he thought, watching your eyes light up with wonder at the scene. A burst of color from down the beach startled you both, and the two of you looked up in unison to see fireworks bursting in the night sky, high overhead. It wasn’t a holiday, as far as he knew - but he wasn’t about to complain, seeing your eyes light up at the colorful display overhead. He slid an arm around you, and you nestled into his side, wrapping both arms around his waist while Bucky willed his heart to stop beating so loudly in his chest. You were somewhere near the top when the ride came to a stop, just in time for the finale of the show, a final bright series of bursting golds and pinks and greens that lit the entire night sky. He looked over at you to find your eyes already on him. You looked so beautiful, and he had been holding himself back all day long… Bucky slid a hand up to your face to cup your cheek, gently lifting your head towards his. He felt his heart all but stop as you leaned into the touch, your eyes trailing back and forth between his eyes and his lips. He had to go for it - but he had to do it right.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered, and you responded with a small nod, already leaning in, as was he, pulled by a magnetism that neither of you could deny any longer. It was explosive, that first kiss, bursting in his brain just as the rockets burst in the sky above you. Your lips felt so soft against his, your grip around his waist tightening. His head was spinning when he broke away from you, far too soon for his liking as you were brought back down to the ground to disembark. He held you clutched tightly to his side as you wound your way back to the exit through a throng of people leaving as the voice over the loudspeaker announced that the park was closed. Outside of the gates, you surprised him again, throwing your arms around his neck and leaning up for another kiss which he eagerly returned. “Come home with me…” you murmured against his lips, and his hands tightened on you in response, a heated sensation tugging at his stomach. “You sure, doll?” Your next kiss, hungry and full of promise was all the answer Bucky needed. He called for a cab and off the two of you went into the night.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #james bucnahan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader smut #eventually #there will be smut #modern au #soldier bucky #artist reader #sebastian stan #shades fics

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beardedmrbean · 4 months ago

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The Bulgarian mathematics team returned with 5 medals and one certificate of honor from the International Olympiad in Great Britain. This year's competition takes place between July 11 and 22 in Bath.

609 students from 108 countries participated in the competition. The competition days were July 16 and 17, with the students solving 3 tasks within 4 and a half hours.

The Bulgarian team, which managed to win 3 silver and 2 bronze medals, was represented by:

1. Marin Hristov - 12th grade, Sofia Mathematical High School "Paisiy Hilendarski" with teacher Ivan Simeonov;

2. Angel Hristov - 11th grade, Profiled Science and Mathematics High School "Acad. Nikola Obreshkov" in Burgas with teacher Ganka Vateva;

3. Bilyana Dimitrova - 12th grade, Sofia Mathematical High School "Paisiy Hilendarski" with teacher Linka Mincheva;

4. Veselin Markovich - 11th grade, Mathematical High School "Dr. Petar Beron" in Sofia with teacher Veselin Todoroska;

5. Boris Gachevsky - 12th grade, Sofia Mathematical High School "Paisiy Hilendarski" with teacher Linka Mincheva;

6. Viktor Kostadinov - 12th grade, First Private Mathematical High School in Sofia with teacher Dobri Dankov.

The team leaders were Prof. Dr. Stanislav Harizanov from the Institute of Information and Communication Technologies and the Institute of Mathematics and Informatics at the Bulgarian Academy of Science, and Ch. Dr. Stoyan Boev from the American University in Blagoevgrad.

In the individual ranking, Bilyana Dimitrova has the fourth result among the 81 participating girls. In the team ranking, Bulgaria took the worthy 27th place in the world (and 11th in Europe) with 126 points.

The training for the team takes place at the National Center for Improving the Qualification of Pedagogical Specialists. The classes are implemented under the National Program "Student Olympiads and Competitions" of the Ministry of Education and Science. _________________________

Congratulations to the Bulgarian nerd squad!!!!

#nunyas news

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batmanschmatman · 10 months ago

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John Basilone - German Shepherd

John is another NCO who is basically a working dog pretending to be a human being. Unlike a lot of the other dog or dog adjacent people I’ve profiled here, I feel like we get to see John at play a lot throughout The Pacific, and he’s got all the typical dog traits: friendly, social, a little goofy, presumably great with kids or younger members of the family, extremely loyal and devoted to his loved ones, and just generally a really good dude to know and have as a friend.

But of course, that’s all tempered with a pretty intense work ethic. German shepherds are favorite dogs for bomb and drug detection, search and rescue, police dogs, tracking, etc. etc. because they’re intensely hard workers who take well to training and thrive in environments where they are actively doing something. John has a strong work ethic and needs to have something to do that gives him deeper fulfillment than just busywork. We watch him turn down multiple opportunities to essentially retire from the Marines and go back to living his life because the war bond tour is unfulfilling and the idea of walking away from the war and getting a normal job is equally troubling.

German shepherds are also a good fit because while they can be playful, loving family pets, they’re quite reserved and private with strangers or while on the job. John is warm and friendly with his friends, but can be tough and bossy with the men under him, and businesslike with his superiors rather than overly familiar. They’re quite loyal to their people and love very hard. German shepherds are also altruistic, protective souls who will put themselves in harms way to protect their loved ones.

Blunt and assertive, they aren’t shy about letting you know how they’re feeling or if you’ve done something wrong. They’re self confident souls who take well to leadership roles, and can be quite tolerant acting as a role model for younger or less experienced coworkers.

As I said with Ron, I try not to pick daemons based solely on physical appearance, animal symbolism, etc., but I also do think this is a fun choice for John because after becoming one of the first Medal of Honor recipients of WWII, John became something of a symbol to the American public that their Italian American neighbors were Americans, not people to be distrustful of even if we were also at war with Italy. His daemon being a German shepherd adds something to that narrative.

( HBO War Daemon AU Masterlist )

#hbowar #hbo war #daemon au #the pacific #john basilone #john badassilone

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glagger-true · 2 years ago

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Introduction:

Howdy, dear reader! I'm your host, Glagger, and today I'm here to present you the master post containing all installments of my medal analysis series for Password the Visual Novel.

This is a long running passion project that has been in the works since after path P dropped to the public in full. The prime (ha) goal of it, is to discuss and analyze in-depth the astrological theme used in Password.

Each of its parts contains a full analysis dedicated to each medal and its associated character, where I attempt to show how the astrological meanings and connections enrich the writing of the game. There's also a few intermissions where I discuss interesting parallels between certain medals and their characters.

Thank you for your help:

Despite starting out solely as my own, this idea became a shared project between me and Xernok down the line. His work as an editor and artist, alongside all the encouragement, has made this evolve far beyond what I could have imagined. And for that, I'm very grateful to him. Our project, is only what it is now thanks to him.

I'm also grateful to Arran, Boigers and Gyrack to reviewing the original document that spawned this project. Your suggestions, advice, and in Arran's case, proof-reading, were of immense help, thank you. I'd also like to add Endersvoid as an honorable mention to this list. Even though you weren't able to review the original doc, the fact you accepted to read through it meant the world to me, thank you very much as well.

I'm also thankful to every artist that allowed me to use their wonderful pieces of fanart in this project. You're all talented and amazing, and your contribution to this has made it look even better than I could have dreamed. Each post that contains a piece done by you has your profiles linked, but I can't help but make a list here as well.

https://twitter.com/mrjosh47

https://twitter.com/terrantitanium

https://twitter.com/harushipanda

https://twitter.com/mikeowolee

https://twitter.com/butchii123

https://twitter.com/orbitpaws

Ghostlink on Discord

https://twitter.com/_Gabu4Play_

https://twitter.com/CaitNyz

https://twitter.com/hhsyan

https://twitter.com/PantsOnRams

https://twitter.com/UnsafeScapewolf

https://twitter.com/fxw93907805

And of course, Xernok on Discord.

Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart 💙.

The metaphorical wheel:

Before delving into the main content, in order to help those with zero knowledge of astrology not to feel lost or confused, we'd like to provide you with a simple reference sheet that was created to aid the reader in understanding the basic concepts of this pseudo science as they read:

Credits to Xernok for being its creator.

With these concepts in mind, let's delve into Password's zodiac wheel! (For those who never used Tumblr, the underlined sentences are hyperlinks, just tap or click on them).

1- The revolutionary noble Aquarius.

2- The patient and indulgent Taurus.

3- The devoted sensitive Cancer.

4- The solid and resilient Capricorn.

5- The forgiving dreamer Pisces.

Intermission one - The sinners.

6- The harmonious and honest Libra.

7- The passionate and determined Leo.

8- The stubborn and driven Aries.

9- The empathetic and manipulative Scorpio.

10- The unified and mutable Gemini.

Intermission two - The victims.

11- The wise and hopeful Sagittarius.

12- The rational and kind Virgo.

The final intermission - The villainous hero and The heroic villain.

13- The mysterious and ambitious Ophiuchus.

Conclusion:

We hope that this was as much of a fun read to you as it was to us to write and edit it. And that by the end of it, you feel like you learned something new about this wonderful cast and story.

I love Password, and want to share as much of that love as I can through my writing with anyone who's willing to listen. I hope that you were able to feel that love through this project, and that it has multiplied whatever fondness you had for the game tenfold.

Lastly, I'd like to thank you for your attention and time. After all, this project is only relevant because you're on the other side of the screen to read it. I shall see you again soon, dear reader. In whatever project my obsession with this story will spawn next. Buh bye! 👋💙.

#password visual novel #password vn #astrology #mythology #dave halloway #roswell sinclair #dean orson #orlando noble #sal warden #hoss warner #tyson grey #oswin hammond #florencia hammond #flora sinclair #reginald hammond #theodore benson #thanatos #furry

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wordborne · 2 years ago

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How to Cure a Ghost

Ghost was honorably discharged after an accident that took two of his limbs.

It’s up to you, a veteran support worker, to take care of the mysterious man in the white skull mask.

TAGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, Veteran Ghost, Disability, Ghost is bad at feelings, Bisexual Ghost, medical inaccuracies (probably) WORD COUNT: 1.8K

This was, by far, the strangest job interview you’ve had in years. It wasn’t at a high-profile office or a fancy café, but rather at a shady pub with sticky floors. Your potential employer, John MacTavish, wasn’t an ordinary man either. His eyes were too expressive, his smile genuine, the mohawk on his head adding a youthful air to him. He explained everything with a precision only a military member could have over a glass of scotch or two while you politely sipped on a pale ale.

“He doesn’t need much help, but some company would do the ol’ boy good.” John said and, without thinking much about it, you were shaking hands to seal the deal.

The pay was good. Way too good for just company and some mental health support, which could only mean one thing:

It would be hard.

His name was Simon. Simon Riley. 48. Lost his right arm and leg during an explosion. Riley was honorably discharged six months ago and given top-notch prosthetics. Still, the bomb hit his dominant side and he couldn’t serve when the nanosecond delay between his brain and his limbs could jeopardize entire missions and he couldn’t hear well due to the tinnitus in his right ear.

That was a long way of saying he was a bitter, angry man.

You dressed to impress as you knocked on his door, not quite prepared, but not willing to back down either. A tall man opened the door. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. A skull mask covering the bottom part of his face. You were halfway through your usual introduction when he sighed.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

And, just like that, the door was shut in your face.

Simon didn’t know what he’d done.

You were outside his door at 8 a.m. sharp for the next two weeks. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t answering.

He opened the door on the 15th day.

“Johnny sent you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“No doubt you’re so annoying. Get in.”

His place was dutifully clean. No medals decorating the place. No pictures. Absolutely nothing that wasn’t the bare minimum. Still, it seemed Simon didn’t need any help with daily chores. He made tea and sat down by the table, ignoring you until the clock struck five and you had to leave after a light dusting and a small questioning he refused to answer.

“See you tomorrow, Simon.”

It took him a month to warm up to you. A whole month of silent visits and him giving you the cold shoulder to understand you weren’t there to coddle him or feel sorry for him. You were there to work. Help him clean and oil his prosthetics. Make meals and do chores when the phantom pain became too much to bear. It took him another two weeks to ask for help. “I can’t tie my bloody shoes.” His flesh hand was shaking with anger, the mechanic one’s fingers twitching every now and then. You’ve seen these things before. How a little action could snowball into a full-blown anger-panic-anger loop. You kneeled down to tie the laces like bunny ears. “Not like that,” He said, and you merely watched with a smile as he undid them and redid them just like he did in the army: pulling them tight, wrapping the laces around the ankle, and tucking them in.

“Good job, Lieutenant.” He realized it a little too late, tossing a glare your way, brows knitting. You held his stare, smiling in a way that reached all the way to the corners of your eyes. The frown stayed on his face the entire day.

Simon hated hospitals. In fact, he’d missed all of his appointments for the last three months. It was always the same, he’d say. And you had to drag his ass out of the house and bring him into your tiny sedan so he could get everything sorted out. His limbs. His ear. His disability checks.

He hated those last ones with a burning passion.

“I’m not fuckin’ disabled just because I have a metal arm.”

And a leg. And a fucked-up ear. And nightmares that still haunted him at night. Sometimes, John would call on your day off at three in the morning, telling you to please drive over. He’d pay you extra. Hell, double if you could just show up and crack some shitty jokes or have a couple of glasses of bourbon with Simon.

He had PTSD. Neither of them mentioned it before. You added it to his personal file. He refused to see a therapist, so a psychiatrist was out of the question but, sometimes, after he’d had a few, he’d tell you about his childhood. About his father and the dead animals and all the blood.

About the bomb.

About Johnny.

Everything about his life was bitter. Doused in gasoline and set on fire. Still, he indulged you with jokes that made you groan. Bough coffee because you were, in his words, uncultured by not drinking tea.

Simon Riley was many things. A good man was one of them.

He had friends over on your day off. His old team. The ashtray was full but he’d cleaned most of the place until he was bone tired. John was the one who opened the door the morning after, smiling and moving aside to let you in. Offering you a cup of Joe.

“You were together once, weren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” He replied. “We broke up after the bomb. It was supposed to hit me, but he pushed me out of the way. I think that, somewhere deep inside, he wished he wouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Lad was fuckin’ miserable when he was recovering. Wouldn’t look me in the eye.”

“Maybe he felt guilty.”

John hummed. “He was always on about things happening on his watch. Maybe this is his way of protecting me.” He said and, after a small pause and a smile, he added: “Wouldn’t mind if he found anyone else, though.”

You took a sip of scalding coffee.

Simon made you cry once. “People like me aren’t meant to retire. We are meant to die out in the field or bleedin’ out in a hospital bed. Johnny only sent you here to make sure I don’t kill myself one of these days.” The outburst seemingly came out of nowhere after you found his purple heart hidden while cleaning and tried to place it around somewhere. It was something to be proud of, you’d said. A reminder of who he was. What he was made of. He didn’t like it. “Simon-“ “Don’t fuckin' ‘Simon’ me. You are a veteran worker, aren’t you? You know how we live. This is fuckin’ hell.” And oh, how you wished the tears didn’t prick your eyes. That they wouldn’t form until they blurred your vision and spilled out because you knew exactly what he was talking about. How many vets had you seen living in the streets? How many more had, after a good day, purchased a gun to end it all? How many times had you come to their homes only to frantically call 911 and sit in the back of an ambulance, wondering if this was all worth it? “M’ sorry.” He said an hour later as you sat on the porch, handing you a glass of smooth bourbon that still burned your throat. And you told him it was okay. It was fine. Those things happened.

And Simon was worth it. He was worth every second. Every inhale. Every space and every meal and your whole damn life, if he so desired. Of course you didn’t say that.

Simon was a very expressive person. Not by conventional means, no, but with his eyes. One look could mean a thousand things, such as don’t touch that, I’m hungry, I need a smoke, I need a drink, Johnny called again and I need you to tell him to stop, I’m in pain and need you six feet away.

But your favorite one was the soft look he threw your way sometimes. Eyebrows relaxed. Jaw a bit slacked. He watched you oil and clean his prosthetics almost with reverence every third day. It didn’t matter if he’d snapped at you. Didn’t matter if you had a rough day and he could tell. You’d treat him just the same. Just as kind. And you had the fleeting thought that, maybe, he didn’t know exactly what kindness was. At least not like this. Not the type you did out of joy and not just because for, in the months you’d spent with Simon, you learned to like him and his odd ways. How he never showed his face. How his hair looked in the morning, all roughed up, eyes squinting at the light and a string of cusses leaving his lips after realizing he’d barely slept again. How he took his tea with no sugar but could eat half a box of pastries in one sitting.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, no.

You liked all your clients, sure. But you weren’t supposed to feel this way about them. Feel attraction. The type of affection that made your heart skip a beat and hold his hand just a little too long, knowing he wouldn’t feel it until he looked down and saw you drawing soothing circles on the back of it.

And today, he had enough.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, swiftly pushing his mask up before his chapped lips crashed against yours in a kiss that you wish you could be stuck in forever. He tasted like bourbon. Like tea and sugar.

You didn’t stop him when he began to pull up your shirt.

Was it wrong to stop going home and opting to stay at Simon’s?

Maybe.

Perhaps there was something among those lines in your code of ethics, but you could throw it out the window for him, and him only. Simon was different. He was rough around the edges but deep, deep down, he was soft. He wanted this. Yearned it. And you craved to give him everything he wanted and then some.

The days were easy, the nights were hard but, with time, he’d just stare at you after a particularly nasty nightmare. Watch you sleep. Feel you breathe. His hand would find the skin showing from between your shirt and pajama pants to ground him. To know this was real. Wasn’t a dream. He was there. You were there. And you weren’t going anywhere. Not until the world fell apart or he wanted you out of his life.

You loved him. Deeply. Passionately. Endlessly. And you knew he felt the same, even if he didn’t show it in conventional ways. It was there in early-morning breakfasts. In lingering touches. In stolen kisses. In the way he laughed at your shitty jokes. In how he’d opened up more and more as time went by. As the months passed and the days seemed all like a content blur.

Simon Riley was in love with you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#Call of Duty #COD #Ghost #Simon Ghost Riley #Ghost/Reader #Fanfiction #my stuff

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sfc-paulchambers · 2 years ago

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UNIT PROFILE– 761ST TANK BATTALION (COLORED) BLACK HISTORY MONTH Of the three armor battalions composed of Black soldiers in the segregated U.S. Army of World War II, the 761st "Black Panther" Tank Battalion is arguably the best known. Constituted on 15 March 1942 in the Army of the United States and activated on 1 April 1942 at Camp Claiborne, Louisiana, it was initially equipped with the M5 Stuart tank but transitioned to the M4 Sherman when the Army began fielding that system to the non-divisional armor units. After the battalion completed training in the United States - which included serving as the "aggressor" force against the student units of the tank destroyer school and participation in a phase of the Louisiana Maneuvers, the 761st was deemed "combat ready" and shipped overseas to the European Theater of Operations. Following a short stay in England, the battalion arrived in France on 10 October 1944, and was assigned to the Third Army commanded by the legendary proponent of armored warfare, Lieutenant General George S. Patton Jr. As a separate tank battalion, the 761st was attached to Infantry divisions - which had no organic armor units - for combat operations. As such, the "Black Panthers" entered combat for the first time on 7 November 1944. In 183 days of combat operations while attached to the all-white 26th, 71st, 79th, 87th, 95th and 103d Infantry Divisions, the 761st participated in the Allied drive through France, Patton’s relief of Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge, and the breaching of the Siegfried Line. By the end of the war the Black Panthers had made it all the way to Austria (where they liberated the Gunskirchen concentration camp); the 761st was inactivated on 1 June 1946 in Germany. During WWII, the Black Panthers earned a Medal of Honor, a Presidential Unit Citation, 11 Silver Stars, 69 Bronze Stars, 296 Purple Hearts, and four campaign streamers (Northern France, Rhineland, Ardennes-Alsace, Central Europe). #Armyhistory #USArmy #TRADOC #WWII #WW2 #WW2History #Patton #Bastogne #BlackPanther #ShermanTank #BlackHistoryMonth #ArmyHeritage U.S. Army U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command. #repostedfrom @armyhistory (at Columbia, Tennessee) https://www.instagram.com/p/CohszLPuF7Z/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#armyhistory #usarmy #tradoc #wwii #ww2 #ww2history #patton #bastogne #blackpanther #shermantank #blackhistorymonth #armyheritage #repostedfrom

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mylifeincinema · 2 years ago

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My Week(s) in Reviews: April 16, 2023

Keeping these short because I honestly don’t have much to say about any of these.

John Wick: Chapter 4 (Chad Stahelski, 2023)

An overwhelming display of beautiful violence. The choreography and cinematography here are just stunning... absolutely stunning. Probably not actually the best of the series, but maybe? - 9/10

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (Jonathan Goldstein & John Francis Daley, 2023)

A lot of fun. It doesn’t take itself seriously, and therefore the more ridiculous stuff actually works. - 8.5/10

Broker (Kore-eda Hirokazu, 2022)

I don’t know what to say about this one. The performances are rich and affecting, and the direction gives them the space to evolve naturally. But the overall product left me a bit cold. I’ll blame the ending, but I think it was more that in addition to the roles of the police in pursuit in general. I don’t know, though. - 6.5/10

Decision to Leave (Park Chan-wook, 2022)

Park Chan-wook’s direction is breathtaking. It builds the mystery and suspense throughout in a manner that keeps your eyes glued to the screen. And the editing throughout only intensifies this. So good. The actual plotting left a bit to be desired, for me, though. The character motivations didn’t always work for me. And while that may have been something getting lost in translation, it was still something that lessened the overall experience. - 8/10

Devotion (J.D. Dillard, 2022)

Likable. I’ve spent my whole life a stone’s throw from Fall River and have barely heard anything about Tom Hudner until now. Dude was a Medal of Honor Recipient yet still all Fall River wants to focus on is Lizzie Borden, the axe-murderer who was absolutely not an axe-murderer. Anyway, Glen Powell is fantastic as always. I love that he’s getting higher profile work. Dude’s a bona fide movie star, and likable as hell, and now I really want to watch Everybody Wants Some!! again. Jonathan Majors is also great; he’s consistently putting out intense, dedicated performances and I really hope his real-life issues don’t completely derail what could be a very interesting career. At the end of the day, though, this one falls a little bit flat by dragging out the climax and draining it of a fair amount of its emotional heft. - 7/10

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

#film #movies #john wick: chapter 4 #movie reviews #dungeons & Dragons: honor among thieves #decision to leave #broker #devotion #my week in reviews #film review #cinema #movie #new movies

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nwbeerguide · 2 years ago

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Payette Brewing Company responds after being recognized during SIP Magazine's "Best of the Northwest Beer Awards".

image courtesy Payette Brewing Company

Press Release

Sip Magazine announced the 11th annual Best of the Northwest Beer Awards in October and Payette Brewing Company, in Boise, Idaho, is proud to have won many. The awards include:

North Fork Lager: Awarded Double Gold in the Lager category.

Urban Surfer Citrus Wheat: Tied for Gold in the Session Ale category.

Recoil India-Pale Ale: Awarded Silver in the American-Style India Pale Ale category.

Sofa King Sunny: Won Judges’ Pick in the Hazy or Juicy Pale Ale category.

Sip Magazine focuses on the Northwest beverage scene and highlights different products or businesses in each issue. They provide quality resources to the beverage industry. The Best of the Northwest beer competition brings hundreds of brews together in order to highlight and showcase the efforts and people behind those beers.

Submissions are sampled blind and judged by beverage industry experts, cicerones, beverage directors/buyers, beer writers, producers and bottle shop owners. Judges then determine the top four medals, as well as Judges’ Picks in each beverage category.

As it is an open call across the Pacific Northwest, there were over an astounding 500 beer submissions, taking the competition up a notch. Results include tasting notes for platinum winners, a full list of Judges’ Picks, and winners are announced in the annual Collector’s Print Issue released in early 2023. The Collectors Print Issue showcases the winners of the competition, including wine, beer, spirits, cider, local restaurants, beverage trends, drink destinations and so on. It is an honor for Payette Brewing Company to once again be featured in the Issue.

Sip Magazine is an award-winning magazine published in the Pacific Northwest. Focusing on the many delightful wines, hand-crafted brews, spirits, roasted coffees, ciders and other products created in the region, along with in-depth profiles of the fascinating people who make them, is creating a buzz in the industry. Don’t miss our travel stories in each issue that detail where readers can go to enjoy a wine getaway or “brew-cation”. www.sipmagazine.com

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Payette Brewing Company, founded in Boise, Idaho by Michael Francis in 2011, proudly brews a wide-variety of beers on tap and in cans, as well as AnyTimers Ready-to-Drink cocktails. Voted “Best Brewery” in the Boise Weekly poll each year since 2012, Payette Brewing Company is a must for beer lovers. Located along the Boise River in Downtown Boise, the expansive Tap Room is open seven days a week and welcomes people from the community and raises funds for non-profit organizations through their Payette Forward Program. www.PayetteBrewing.com.

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/3YUgKup

#Craft Beer #Beer #News

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ejesgistnews · 24 days ago

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Major General Olufemi Olatubosun Oluyede has been appointed as the Acting Chief of Army Staff (COAS) by President Bola Tinubu on October 30, 2024. Major General Olufemi Oluyede biography and Profile. Major General Olufemi Olatubosun Oluyede was born in Ekiti, South Western Nigeria in 1968. He attended military training at the Nigerian Defence Academy, Kaduna, where he embarked on a rigorous course to build a solid foundation in military leadership and strategy. He was part of the 39th Regular Course at the Nigerian Defence Academy, where he was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in 1992, with the commission effective from 1987. Major General Olufemi Oluyede Biography Early Life and Education Birth Year: 1968, making him 56 years old as of 2024 Military Family: Born into a military-oriented family, which influenced his early interest in a military career. Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA): Member of the 39th Regular Course, alongside Lt. General Taoreed Abiodun Lagbaja. Key Command Roles Commander, Infantry Corps: Served as the 56th Commander of the elite Infantry Corps in Jaji, Kaduna. Platoon Commander, 65 Battalion: Early career role where he led tactical operations. Company Commander, 177 Guards Battalion: Led internal security operations. Commandant, Amphibious Training School: Oversaw specialized training programs in amphibious warfare. Operations and Achievements International Missions: Participated in the Economic Community of West African States Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) mission in Liberia. Domestic Operations: Commanded the 27 Task Force Brigade in Operation HADIN KAI in the North East. Awards: Received numerous accolades, including the Corps Medal of Honour, the Grand Service Star, the Field Command Medal, and the Chief of Army Staff Commendation Award. Major General Olufemi Oluyede Biography: Personal Life Family: Married with three children. Education: Completed the prestigious Staff Course and is a member of the National Institute for Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS). Major General Oluyede’s extensive experience and leadership roles have prepared him well for his new position as the Acting Chief of Army Staff. If you have any specific questions or need more details, feel free to ask Major General Olufemi Oluyede Biography: Military Career Commissioning: Officially commissioned as a second lieutenant in 1992, with service retroactively recognized from 1987. Promotion: Promoted to Major General in September 2020. Over the years, Major General Oluyede has climbed the ranks within the Nigerian Army, displaying strong leadership and tactical skills in various roles. His military journey is marked by key appointments, honors, and active participation in some of the nation's major military operations. Key Positions Held Prior to his appointment as the Acting Chief of Army Staff, Oluyede held several notable positions: Commander, Infantry Corps: Major General Oluyede served as the 56th Commander of the Nigerian Army's elite Infantry Corps, based in Jaji, Kaduna State. This position, one of the highest in the Nigerian Army Infantry Corps, equipped him with a wealth of experience in training, strategy, and leadership. Commanding Officer, 65 Battalion: Oluyede began his leadership journey as a Platoon Commander and adjutant within the 65 Battalion, later advancing to Company Commander of the 177 Guards Battalion. Staff Officer, Guards Brigade: In this role, he contributed to the strategic security of Nigeria’s seat of power, given the Guards Brigade’s responsibility to secure the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja. Commandant, Amphibious Training School: Oluyede oversaw the training of troops in amphibious and special operations, a position that expanded his expertise in unconventional warfare and rapid deployment. Commander, 27 Task Force Brigade: Major General Oluyede led the 27 Task Force Brigade in the North East as part of Operation HADIN KAI, a mission critical in Nigeria’s fight against insurgency.

He directed counter-insurgency operations, focused on combatting Boko Haram in the region. International and National Operations Oluyede has represented Nigeria in various peacekeeping and conflict resolution missions. Among these: ECOMOG Mission in Liberia: He served in the West African peacekeeping mission to stabilize Liberia during its civil war, gaining experience in international military collaboration. Operation HARMONY IV: Involved in Bakassi Peninsula, this assignment focused on securing Nigeria’s interests in the region during border conflicts with Cameroon. Operation HADIN KAI: In this operation, based in northeastern Nigeria, Oluyede played a prominent role in Nigeria’s ongoing fight against Boko Haram, a key operation in national security. Recent Appointment as Acting Chief of Army Staff President Bola Tinubu appointed Major General Olufemi Oluyede as the Acting Chief of Army Staff on October 30, 2024. This appointment came following the medical leave of Lieutenant General Taoreed Abiodun Lagbaja. Oluyede’s new role places him at the top of the Nigerian Army hierarchy, where he is responsible for overseeing army operations, training, and administration, as well as implementing policies that impact national security. Major General Olufemi Oluyede Biography: Awards and Recognitions Over his military career, Oluyede has received multiple awards and honors, recognizing his dedication and service to the nation: Corps Medal of Honour: Awarded for exemplary service within the Infantry Corps. Grand Service Star: This is a distinguished honor granted to high-ranking officers who have shown exceptional commitment. Passing the Staff Course: A notable achievement within the Nigerian Army, indicating completion of the army’s advanced leadership training. Membership of the National Institute: Recognizing his strategic insight and contribution to national defense, Oluyede’s membership at this institute highlights his capabilities in defense and security policy. Major General Olufemi Oluyede Biography: Personal Life Details about Oluyede’s family and personal life remain largely private, as he has maintained a focus on his military responsibilities and service to the nation. His extensive background in command roles has made him well-regarded among his colleagues and subordinates, known for his commitment, professionalism, and leadership skills. Appointment as Acting Chief of Army Staff. Major General Olufemi Oluyede’s appointment reflects the depth of his experience and commitment to Nigeria’s national security. His role as Acting Chief of Army Staff places him in a position to address current security challenges, especially with ongoing anti-insurgency operations and stability efforts in various regions. His leadership is expected to guide the Nigerian Army during a period of transition, particularly as he awaits the possible return of Lt. General Lagbaja. General olufemi olatubosun oluyede state of origin. Major General Olufemi Olatubosun Oluyede is from Ekiti State, South Western Nigeria. Major General Olufemi Oluyede Biography: Awards and Honors Oluyede has received many awards for his service to the nation, including the Corps Medal of Honour, the Grand Service Star, and the Chief of Army Staff Commendation Award. Conclusion on Major General Olufemi Oluyede biography With a career spanning over three decades, Major General Olufemi Olatubosun Oluyede’s expertise and leadership have earned him a reputation as a dedicated and strategic military officer. His appointment as Acting Chief of Army Staff underscores his commitment to maintaining Nigeria’s defense capabilities and supporting President Bola Tinubu’s administration in navigating the country’s complex security landscape. Frequently Asked Questions on Major General Olufemi Oluyede Biography, Family, Career, State of Origin. 1. Who is Major General Olufemi Oluyede? Major General Olufemi Olatubosun Oluyede is a senior officer in the Nigerian Army, currently serving as the Acting Chief of Army Staff. He was appointed on October 30, 2024.

2. General olufemi olatubosun oluyede state of origin He hails from Ekiti State, Nigeria. 3. When was he born? He was born in 1968, making him 56 years old as of 2024. 4. What is his educational background? Oluyede attended the Nigerian Defence Academy. He was part of the 39th Regular Course. He completed the prestigious Staff Course and is a member of the National Institute for Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS). 5. When did he join the Nigerian Army? Major General Olufemi Olatubosun Oluyede joined the Nigerian Army in 1987, where he was enrolled as part of the 39th Regular Course at the Nigerian Defence Academy. He was later commissioned as a second lieutenant in 1992. 6. What are some of his notable military roles? He has held various significant positions, including Platoon Commander, Company Commander, and Staff Officer at the Guards Brigade. He also commanded the Amphibious Training School and the 27 Task Force Brigade in the North East. 7. What operations has he participated in? Major General Oluyede has participated in several notable military operations, including the ECOMOG Mission in Liberia, Operation HARMONY IV in Bakassi, and Operation HADIN KAI in Nigeria's Northeast. 8. What awards has he received? He has been honored with multiple awards, such as the Corps Medal of Honour, the Grand Service Star, the Field Command Medal, and the Chief of Army Staff Commendation Award. 9. Is he married? Yes, Major General Oluyede is married and the marriage has produced three children. 10. What is his current role? As of October 30, 2024, he holds the position of Acting Chief of Army Staff, awaiting the return of Lt. General Taoreed Abiodun Lagbaja.

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