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compacflt · 1 year

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Rumors from Pearl Harbor.

When Admiral Kazansky first comes to Pearl, he brings with him about half of his previous staff, all exceptionally-hardworking people hand-picked over years—advisors, flag aides, secretaries, ranks all over the board. But his new hires, upon getting acquainted with the old guard, are shocked to discover that his previous staff still hardly knows him at all.

“He keeps to himself, mostly,” Lieutenant Commander Hartford explains over a pint. “I made the mistake of asking him once what he did for fun. You know, like, hobbies and stuff. He blinked at me for a second, and then said, ‘I read.’ That’s it! I read! My advice to you newcomers would be, don’t ask him questions about his personal life, because it tends to be pretty boring.”

“It sounds to me like he’s a walking, talking Wikipedia page,” says Captain Calvert, who worked for the previous two Pacific Fleet Commanders and thinks she knows how to deal with them by now. “We owe it to ourselves to figure him out. It’ll make our lives easier, anyway. So, let’s put our heads together: what do we know about him?”

What they know are his habits, which they’ll come to learn intimately over the next few years, and which are admittedly pretty boring. Admiral Kazansky is one of the first to show up to work in the morning and one of the last to leave in the evening. He often answers e-mails past 2300 hours, but never later than midnight. Jokes never catch him off-guard; he rarely smiles, and when he does, it has an ulterior motive. When he’s not working, he’s scheming and making plans to go back home to San Diego, and his requests for leave are always granted, because he works like a pack mule from home anyway. He signs off every e-mail with “Sincerely,”…

“Is he sincere, though?” asks Chief Warrant Officer Kent halfway through Admiral Kazansky’s first year. (Admiral Kazansky is surely unaware that his staff now spends the second Friday of every month chit-chatting about him over drinks in downtown Honolulu.) “I can’t ever tell. And he lives in Hawaii. San Diego’s nice, I know, but what’s so different about the beaches there that he can’t get here?”

“I genuinely don’t think he’s human,” confesses Commander Stoddard. “People warned me about that when I came here, and I laughed it off, but… he keeps his desk biologically sterile. Not one fingerprint, but I’ve never seen anyone wipe it down. I’ve looked through his drawers. Don’t judge me, I got curious. Everything squared away, like he’s goddamn Einstein or something. Have any of you ever seen him in his civvies?” No one has. “God damn it, where does he shop for groceries? No one’s seen him at a grocery store? Does he even own a pair of jeans? Does he wear his uniform to bed, too?”

“He probably goes grocery shopping on the whole other side of the island to avoid all the enlisted kids,” laughs Captain Calvert. “Come to think of it…you know how he always eats lunch in the office? It’s always a salad. And always the same kind of salad. This guy survives on one cup of coffee and one spinach salad a day. Maybe he really isn’t human.”

They build out their wealth of knowledge and come to learn that Admiral Kazansky is defined by his extremes, by what he always does and what he never does. Admiral Kazansky gets his uniforms dry-cleaned every week, though he never spills anything on them. No one has ever seen Admiral Kazansky stumble over his words while giving a speech, or trip over a sidewalk curb, or push a “pull” door. He is always polite and never friendly. Sometimes he is cold, and sometimes he is cruel in his patience with you when you’ve fucked up, like a cat toying with a hemorrhaging mouse. But he never raises his voice. He is always immaculately put-together, well-groomed, constructed every day like a product on an assembly line. Nothing is ever out of place. Allegedly his umbrella once turned inside-out during a rainstorm; he disdainfully shook it once, as a hunter might pump a loaded shotgun, and it flipped itself right-side-in again. The laws of physics do not seem to apply to him. Nor do the natural embarrassments that come with being human. Admiral Kazansky is never flustered, never harried, and never falls apart.

“I found this old picture of him shaking hands with another pilot on the Internet,” says Chief Warrant Officer Kent in Admiral Kazansky’s second year. “Smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Never seen him smile like that in all my years working with him. And he had frosted tips, too. Like Guy Fieri on a diet and steroids. It was the eighties, sure, but it’s like he knew how to have fun, once upon a time. Wonder what happened to him.”

“I feel lonely for him sometimes,” says Commander Stoddard. “Strict guy like that, no family, no friends, no wife, nothing to live for but the Navy? He’s like a workhorse with blinders on. Nowhere to go but forward. That’s a lonely existence.”

“Not if you’re a robot,” says Lieutenant Commander Hartford. “I swear, sometimes he breathes and it makes me jump, ‘cause I forgot he was alive!” —What else doesn’t Admiral Kazansky do?

That’s when they realize that none of them, not the old guard nor the new, has ever, not once, ever seen or heard Admiral Kazansky sneeze.

And they all finally give up the game and quit arguing and agree that, no, he really isn’t human after all. He must be some cyborg from the future sent to whip the Pacific Fleet into shape, and you can’t ask for too much humanity from someone who’s doing a pretty damn good job of it.

The rumors start soon after that. Jokes that could get them all tossed out of the Navy, but probably won’t. Jokes that accidentally spread like wildfire.

Yes, Admiral Kazansky could be a cyborg, but he also could be a Mormon fundamentalist, or a Scientologist, or a really weird Catholic. Maybe he goes home to San Diego so often because in his spare time he’s really a mule ferrying cocaine across the Mexi-Cali border. That’s what he does for fun. He eats spinach salads because he’s a reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man, and he needs all the super-strength he can get to deal with the Navy’s modern-day bullshit.

“I don’t know if that story makes sense,” laughs Captain Calvert on the phone with her husband in Washington, “but it makes more sense than the real Admiral Kazansky does!”

So the rumors get spread around.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Maverick comments, watching Ice make their bed from the relative comfort of the bedroom doorway, “or if I should tell you this, because you might crack down on it, which would be a shame, ‘cause it’s funny. But every time you send a mass e-mail to the Pacific Fleet commissioned officer corps, you become the main topic of conversation between all of us officers for a solid day and a half.”

“Oh?” says Ice with a smile, struggling to fit the last corner of the fitted sheet to the mattress. He sighs, tugs on the strings of his old ratty-ass hooded sweatshirt, and looks at Maverick balefully through his glasses. “Help me out over here, would you? —What are people saying? All good things, I hope.”

“Not really,” Maverick says, stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase as he stares out the window into the San Diego sunshine. “Some pretty crazy shit, actually. Hard as hell for me to keep a straight face. I heard this one—you know, people are saying you eat nothing but salads?”

“Oh,” laughs Ice, hospital-cornering the free sheet. “Yeah, that one’s kind of true. I bring salads in to the office sometimes.”

“You hate salads.”

“I know, it’s torture! Move over.” He bumps Maverick out of the way to tuck in the last corner. “But, I figure, if a man torments himself with spinach-and-arugula salads three times a week, you ought to respect his commitment. It’s all an act. You get to a certain Defense Department paygrade, it all starts being storytelling and stagecraft.”

“Or trickery and deception, depending on how you look at it.”

“Sure. But you could say that about everything. —Besides, I’d rather the Navy discuss my salads than discuss… well, this.” He gestures to Maverick, then down to the bed. They start tugging the comforter over it together. “How much slack you got over there?”

“‘Bout a foot.”

Ice pulls his side down a couple more inches to match, then flips the top up. “Is that it? That’s all people are saying about me?”

Maverick grins and bends down to pick up a pillow. “They’re also saying that you’re the reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man. I yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam, and all that. Think fast.”

Ice doesn’t think fast, and the pillow hits him square in the face, and he laughs again as he catches it in his arms. “Shit, that’s good,” he says; “I was just about to call Slider, think I’ll tell him that one. That’ll make him laugh. Popeye Iceman.” He tosses the pillow onto the made-up bed and pulls out his cell phone, but—then he frowns, grimaces, mutters “Ah, no,” and turns away to sneeze.

#these are not real OCs obv #none of my OCs ever are #just names saying things #if a tree (ice) falls in a forest (sneezes in his office) and no one’s around to hear #does it really make a sound?#cyclone hears these rumors and immediately starts slamming salads and dry cleaning his uniforms #what he doesn’t understand is that sometimes overachieving is driven by having something you desperately want to keep hidden #im very interested in an interpretation of TG86 ice that #has constructed a mythos/character around himself #(best of the best & scary frosted tips for example)#to hide the truth of who he actually is.#Popeye iceman #top gun #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #top gun fanfiction #it’s the way he lives. ice-cold; no mistakes.#popeye’s ‘I am what I am and that’s all that I am’ would be good advice for my ice to take #of course around mav tho…

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transingthoseformers · 1 month

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On the whole "failed courtship but it somehow works" front (continuity soup bc it ought to be G1 but then M's alt is wrong; what do guns do to show off anyway? Precision targeting? How do you get your preferred person to hold you for that?):

OP: is practicing those precision manoeuvres that only the very finest of trucks can manage (along the lines of that video of the truck driver making himself a cup of tea...) in a secluded valley somewhere that is definitely-only-coincidentally adjacent to where the Decepticons were most recently detected;

M: barrelling over the adjacent ridge and down into the valley, covered in the local vegetation, with a carefully-arranged collection of beautiful-but fragile treats suspended from the barrel of his tank mode. This is, naturally, just an exercise in using his alt effectively. Nothing whatsoever to do with the last known destination of the Autobot groundbridge;

one inevitable collision later, OP's carefully prepared cube with appropriate additives is spread all over the floor and M's treads, causing devastation to some small part of the local ecosystem. M's delightful selection of treats is smeared along the side of OP's trailer, which stickiness and waste does not help OP's mood as he transforms back to express his annoyance more effectively.

At some point in the ensuing fist-fight - possibly as they roll through the puddle of energon again - it occurs to OP to wonder just what M was doing rushing around with a cake-stand anyway. The sheer degree of embarrassment inherent in answering makes M try to transform back and escape the whole interaction, but of course OP is faster in alt and can force a confrontation. And then, well, something is clearly wrong and the two systems are reasonably parallel and OP is not the one with the emotional intelligence of a teaspoon here. He can, and does un-puzzle this mystery, and M is trapped.

Clearly the only thing left after that is for M to un-sticky OP, by whatever means are left available to him. And if the net effect in terms of cleanliness is not what it might be, neither of them is exactly complaining.

Omg these two have created such a mess yes, they're trying so hard to show off in their own ways

Oh, it's not their fault these ways collide (lying) (lying so much💖💖💖💖)

Makes sense Optimus figures it out first, and oh Megatron what have you started

There's no way they're coming out of this clean, if I'm picking up the vibes at the end correctly.

But:

#maccadam #transformers #Megatron #Optimus prime #megop #I'm imagining a gun's courtship thing would be to Refuse To Work in anyone's hands but their crush's_ perhaps?#i see this as an absolute win #even if the valley may disagree #megs: fucking books it in tank #optimus: can easily out-drive him #there are several ways Megatron can try to clean up Optimus #several #of varying effectiveness

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preseriesdean · 1 year

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DEAN + cleaning weapons

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kurtoutdoorman · 4 months

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Not all cleaning days are created equal!!

#guns #pistols #cleaning #a few of my favorite things

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weidli · 3 months

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but i gave you all

#i like setting myself arbitrary complications when vidding. this one's Hands :)#no coincidence that this means mostly also Guns and Blood and then a little bit of the Tenderness #which means that in being about hands and whose are clean and whose aren't it is also about guilt and blame #tatort stuttgart #wails. screams. throws things. boys give each other a HUG usually people do that BEFORE getting more or less married you know #also i'm a huuuge fan of that one shot from hart an der grenze where thorsten's holding sara and sebastian points his gun from out of frame #so that it covers thorsten's face #what an ANGLE. what a STATEMENT

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gravityflops · 1 year

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some lazy lighting practice on stans screenshots

#yeah it’s terrible it’s been awhile alright fjfbfjfb #i didn’t bother with a lot of things tbh #like the glasses or the buttons #didn’t even fill in the gun that is Pure Screenshot fjfbdjdbnd #gravity falls #my art #(?)#stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls fanart #also didn’t clean it up like. at all. but somehow they still look rad as hell bc that’s how the pines family rolls

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celaenaeiln · 2 years

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Boys!Batfam in a militarized au

Bruce Wayne: Commander

Head of all operations and in charge of taking in and training new recruits. Personality: Serious and authoritative

Dick Grayson: Head of Torture and Investigation

Doesn’t like to kill but an absolute mastermind at breaking people and extracting information from them within minutes. Personality: Smiley and twisted

Jason Todd: Terminator

In charge of killing all spies and threats. Front line fighter due to his wild and reckless nature. Personality: Mocking and unrestrained

Tim Drake: Head of Research and Development

Interacts with different companies to provide funding. Develops new weaponry and analyzes efficiency rate. Personality: Sharp and dismissive

Damian Wayne: New Recruit

Accompanies Wayne on all missions. In charge of scouting. Assassin. Roles to come. Personality: Haughty and soft

#been thinking abt this for a while #dick is back up fighter when things go wrong #Bruce and Damian are frontline fighters but not to jason’s extent #Jason is fighting all the time and when he’s not he’s cleaning his guns lovingly #tim is tired and pissed at his research team’s stupidity #he’s a one man team #damian loves fighting and dick #Tim and dick pair up to develop new automobiles. that’s their way of sibling bonding #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #robin #batfam au

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snowangeldotmp3 · 11 months

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robin's ptsd has been discussed and stuff.... but what hcs do u have relating to nancy and her ptsd? ehehehe

oh boy i've been WAITING for this one!!!

nancy doesn't go swimming for a while. everything just reminds her of barb and steve's pool. so she just, doesn't. not at the hawkins public pool, not at the lake. nowhere.

nancy cuts her hair after the events of s1 and keeps it relatively short/shoulder-length because if it gets any longer she sees That version of herself. the one who left barb to die.

nightmares. every night. nancy doesn't remember the last time she had a good dream. they're all tainted. have been tainted since november 1983. they're all so vivid. so real, that she has a hard time distinguishing what's real and what's not real. especially after that first encounter with the demogorgon. she eventually gets to a point where she can bring herself out of it when she needs too, but when starcourt happens they come back twice as hard and twice as vivid.

we've seen her zone out in canon, and i don't think that ever really stops with her. i think when she's not in Monster Fighting Journalist mode, and she's just nancy, that she's constantly zoning out. ESPECIALLY after vecna messes with her mind.

i hc that nancy's birthday is the day that will came back/barb didn't (we know her bday is in november, just not the exact day lmao) but nancy doesn't celebrate it anymore. not since Then. a few people know it. her family, jonathan, steve, and eventually robin (who found out on accident) but there's no big celebrations or anything. nancy stays home, alone, wrapped in one of barb's old sweaters.

some days, nancy just shuts down. she's had a really bad nightmare or she's just had a bad day with her trauma in general so she just. kinda wanders. both physically and mentally. it's during one of these bad days i think that she takes down the pictures of her and barb that she had in her room.

speaking of that; i think having the pictures in her room was too much for her, reminding her of everything she could've done differently or should've done differently, so she just can't look at them anymore. (she doesn't get rid of them though, she jsut keeps them in a box under her bed. sometimes when she's feeling too lonely she'll pull them out.)

nancy is also one who doesn't like it if someone sneaks up beside her without seeing who it is first. she likes being able to have eyes on everyone, all the time. just in case.

nancy feels like she has to be the one to protect everyone. i think the trauma + guilt of everything leads to that mentality. it's her responsibility.

these are just a few i have at the moment! i probably have more that i've forgotten/overlooked, but!!! hope u enjoy :)

#got mail! 📩#solarsleepless #nancy wheeler #oh! i also think sometimes she cleans her guns in a methodical way. bc there are steps to it and everything ya know?#but i'm always torn between 'nancy doesn't have a problem with her guns. they're an extension of her now.' (like the pen and the sword but #the sword is a shotgun. ya know?)#and 'if nancy doesn't have to pick up her gun she won't.'#much to ponder about actually...#stranger things #i also have a thing about nancy straddling that line between ptsd and ocd #where her brain concludes sometimes that xyz has to happen so the Bad Thing won't. but that's just me :)

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