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#i want to hear ALL the good things

astudyinpanda · 10 months

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rules — shuffle your “on repeat playlist” and list the first ten songs, then tag ten people

Thank you for the tag, @mystical-salamander ! Have some synthwave, TV soundtracks, and trailer music. Sorry about the SPN jumpscare. It's in a playlist for XCOM 2's Avenger mobile base, and I'll have you know it's a perfect fit, tonally.

Reframed Future - Schlepp Geist [genuinely good stuff]

Planet F - Moritz Hofbaur

Beacon (feat. Dimi Kaye) - Volkor X [sampled quote is from the radio drama Earth Abides]

Scrap Metal - Dominic Lewis [drastic tone shift time!]

Cherry Blossoms - Dominic Lewis [I am obsessed with 2:30 to 3:15]

Signals - Timecop1983 [back to synthwave]

Exoplanet (Alex Stein Remix) Intara, Alex Stein, & Third Person

Luna (Extended Mix) - Ann Clue

The Grateful Undead - Christopher Lennertz

Life on the Frontlines - Epic Score

No-pressure tagging: @theres-whump-in-that-nebula @befuddled-calico-whump @gettiregretti @allroseshave-their-thorns @samati @suchanadorer @usedkarma @boxoftheskyking @mossywriting @nonhumanhottie and you if you wanna play

#tag game #text #music #ah gods this makes me feel so boring #i will be tracking down all related posts #i want to hear ALL the good things

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canisalbus · 5 months

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sorry im emotonal and going off of the other asks sent about machete and just i need to stress how beautiful it is to me that machete sees himself so undeserving of love and affection and feeling as if vasco's too good for him but despite all that he is so incredibly devoted to vasco and loving towards him (in his own way) but is so incredibly clear to anyone with eyes that just how in love he is with vasco. like it's not done out of a "oh god please never realize that you're too good for me here here let me overdo it with the affection" its done with the "i love you, and will always love you, no matter what happens to us or separates us, and i will give it to you as long as i am able, and if you ever leave, i won't be okay, but will still love you, and want you happy". like he doesn't use his own feelings of being undeserving taint his love or the way he loves for vasco, and it's so, so beautiful

#;M;#oauhh #that's so sweet I'm in shambles and so glad to hear all of that #sometimes I worry about whether I'm communicating their chemistry correctly #it would be so easy for this sort of relationship to gain suffocating and possessive and overall just abusive tones #and even though you could argue it would be a source for juicy drama I just don't want that #Machete could selfishly exploit Vasco's care and altruism without giving anything in return #or worse let his paranoia and jealousy get the better of him and end up destroying them both because if he can't have Vasco no one can #and Vasco could leverage his influence over Machete to manipulate and use him because out of them two he's the more mentally stable one #and it would be easy to take advantage of Machete's vulnerability obedience and his trust that Vasco would never harm him #but I don't know maybe it's a bit tropey and idealistic but I really just want these dogs to be genuinely good for each other #they have so many things working against them already I don't wish to see them backstab each other as well #they have a bit of a 'us against the world' thing going on which I really like #they're not perfect there's issues they're trying to work on but the will to get through it together is there #and I want to make it seem like they wouldn't hesitate to prioritize the other one's happiness and wellbeing at their own expense #if it came to that #anwered #anonymous

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spookygibberish · 2 months

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Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.

The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.

A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.

#haven't posted them much (all wips) but been thinking about the sphinxish people in my setting. same world as thrones #different part of the continent like 2 whole seas away #this is inspired by a shitty comic a friend is reading and also thinking some of the writing in the long way to a small angry planet re #hostile aliens really really sucked.#i want to talk abt this more so im posting it if you have thoughts i would like to hear themmmmm #i'm very cynical about this kind of stuff lmao #dogstock #im also reading tollkien rn so im thinking about ORCS #i dont actually like the lotr trilogy all that much but not even bc i think the writing is bad i just think its kinda boring. sorry.#thats not a very interesting reason to not like something i dont even think its not good im just not super entertained. rip #like not saying there is no issue with it at all writing wise there is very much to say abt how it is utterly and uncritically #white good black bad fair elves and dark orcs and shit like that #but i've liked things more that have bigger issues. hi pern. maybe i just like shlock! idk!#rambling. im keyed up hi #the gibberish in spookygibberish

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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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