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slackerlifewhere · 7 months ago

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Cale Henituse and Kim Rok Soo

After I posted yesterday, I saw an opinion that I kind of agree with about the difference between Cale Henituse and Kim Rok Soo.

I'm gonna say my opinion without trying to offend the whole fandom. Again, you can read fics about OG Cale as MC. I will not stop you just because I have my own opinion. You are free to read whatever you want. If you don't agree with this, it's fine and if you do, don't antagonize or attack the fanfiction authors who made these fics. Let them do their own thing, okay?

This post is not a rant but me sharing my own thoughts and opinions about this topic.

To make this easier, I'll call OG Cale as Cale and OG KRS as KRS.

[✋SPOILERS for the first part of the novel✋]

Some say that Cale Henituse and Kim Rok Soo are the same person. While I don't know if this is true because I haven't read the second part of the novel yet, in my opinion, they are not the same.

Again, I repeat, I like Cale Henituse. He's very intelligent and kind to Basen to the point of destroying his own reputation, he targets thugs and scammers whenever he's "drunk", he's willing to sacrifice his whole identity in order to save his world after surviving for twenty years by himself. He's a complex character and in another world, if given the chance, he would've been a great MC.

But that's the thing, he is not the MC of TCF, Kim Rok Soo is. And I think some fans forget the reason why Kim Rok Soo became the MC and not Cale Henituse. Because in some fics that I see whenever I scroll down to look for something to read, Cale completely replaces KRS' presence in the story, to the point that he doesn't exist anymore.

Let me explain.

Kim Rok Soo

Kim Rok Soo is a very integral part of the story. You can't easily replace him with another person, normal or otherwise, and expect the story to go the same way it did in the novel. He did things his way because he's a chaotic little shit. He's a different person from Cale, no matter how many or few similarities they both have.

It's not because he's simply smart or OP (as some would say) that he won a war that ended in only two years, but it's also because of his past and the bonds he made as himself.

He's a person full of empathy for these people that he meets wherever he goes, regardless whether he knows them from a book or not, because he understands them and their pain. He does not hide his personality and in a way, his charisma attracts these people who see him for who he is, a kind person.

Kim Rok Soo is different because he survived in an apocalypse by himself until he meets Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo. Plus, he did not have a great childhood. He was abused and lived by himself for the rest of his childhood and teenage years because of a curse (or maybe because his uncle is just a shitty person, who knows).

The opinions he has and the way he thinks are shaped by his own experiences. He is the Kim Rok Soo we see in the novel because he grew up under these circumstances.

To say that he's easily replaceable would be too disrespectful to the sacrifices he made as both Kim Rok Soo and Cale Henituse.

Cale Henituse

Cale, on the other hand, is different. He lived alone for how many years because he deliberately pushed everyone away because of his grief and after what Jour told him. It's not because of a curse that he became this way but because he chose to.

Yes, everyone he knows should've tried to make an effort by comforting him or talking with him (his family, the nobles he's close to, Ron and Beacrox) but that did not happen because he's the one who chose to live like this. I've mentioned it in my post about Deruth but if a person doesn't want comfort or doesn't want to talk, they will not talk, especially someone as stubborn as Cale. To blame all these people (including the kids) and the rest of the world because of his own choice is simply not right or fair since the only one responsible to actually help him is Deruth. Violan is not given this chance nor did she try as his stepmother but it all comes down to Deruth. But of course, he did not get any help nor did he seek any.

He lived his years shrouded in grief until the very end. He's a kind person but unfortunately, life is not kind to him.

Later, he survives in the war until the White Star kills him. What did he choose to do in the end when he made that deal with the God of Death? To return to the past so he can save everyone? No. Instead, he chose to go to KRS' world to find his mother. If CJS were given the chance to decline a proposal, why didn't Cale? He could've said he'll do it himself but instead, he left it to KRS. We all know he's stubborn enough to ruin his reputation, is he not stubborn enough to make a deal to save his world as himself?

You can argue it's maybe because the God of Death didn't give him the chance to argue with it but there are other ways the god could've sent KRS to this world. Like Choi Han or Choi Jung Soo.

Choi Jung Soo

Choi Jung Soo is a prime example of what could've and couldn't have happened if he agreed with the God of Death's proposal. He is not KRS. He has his own opinions and experiences that make him unique. He is not like Choi Han who drowned in his despair in TBoaH but instead, is a man who wants to survive with his friends (brothers) and smile with them despite the pain he suffers in.

If he were to replace KRS, the story would've gone differently. He might find Choi Han and they would do their best to survive in this new world together. He may or may not find Raon and the kittens, depending on the time and location when he arrives in this world. Alberu may or may not completely trust him like how he didn't completely trust Choi Han in TBoaH because unlike KRS who is too similar with Alberu, CJS is different. He might not look for the ancient powers since he has his own ability, leaving some that the White Star could've taken like the Sky Eating Water and Super Rock. In fact, the shield could've been left at the tree unless CJS knows about it and takes it. (Let me remind you that no one in this world knows there's an ancient power in that tree in the Henituse territory.)

I can list down things he could've or couldn't have done but it might be too long.

But my point is, it could've been Cale, Alberu, or Choi Han who were sent to the past but the story would've gone differently because these people are all different in their own ways. Heck, if the God of Death truly wants to save this world, he could've sent back Choi Han or Alberu instead of Cale. Because these two are also powerful in their own ways that do not need the help of ancient powers. Just give them enough information and they could've ended the war faster than twenty years.

Conclusion

So, yeah. Kim Rok Soo became the main character for several reasons. He was an ability user and team leader back in his world, he has the curse attached to him because of the White Star, he was an abused kid who had a sad childhood.

And I think there are other reasons why, if KRS is not the MC, that the story could've ended differently. Put aside Raon who is powerful and has a connection to Sheritt and the Dragon Slayers and would be integral to the story, On and Hong could've died with no one knowing about them because they were barely mentioned in the books. Mary could've stayed in the City of Life because no one would need her to help Ron. Hannah and Jack could've died because no one would've known that they were killed. Paseton has a chance to live but no one knows where he is.

Some characters would live and some would die if Kim Rok Soo is not the main character. That's basically what I think about all of this.

The reason why they survived, aside from the books, is because Kim Rok Soo's heart is so big that he wants to help people or give them the chance to survive. Some people would ignore or not notice these people because they have their own problems to deal with.

But Kim Rok Soo just wants to live. And I think that's why the story went the way it did.

Kim Rok Soo, the man who became Cale. His life motto was pretty simple.

Living long without pain. Enjoying the small joys of life.

Living a peaceful life.

- Chapter 2: When I Opened My Eyes

Again, I'm not stopping you from reading these fics nor am I telling you to attack fanfic authors because of what they write. This whole post is just me sharing my opinion.

You don't have to agree with anything I said. You can ignore this and read whatever you want to read.

This is not a post undermining or disrespecting what Cale sacrificed and felt as a person. This is a post to share my opinion that Cale and Kim Rok Soo both deserve the respect that they should get for everything they did and to not completely erase a character for the other. But if someone does it, then I can't do anything about it.

As a Mob Psycho 100 fan, I will end this with one line that perfectly summarizes what I think about this topic.

Your life is your own.

#tcf #tcf cale #tcf manhwa #tcf novel #cale henituse #lcf cale #tcf cale henituse #lcf #lcf manhwa #lout of the count’s family #trash of the count's family #kim roksu #kim rok soo #choi jung soo #tcf spoilers

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karlachismylife · 19 days ago

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The Slopes of Mountain Aragats

#PriceGhostWeek

Day One: Confession/Kneel (@gomzdrawfr)

I hate this work with a passion, especially because I loved the place I'm describing here and I feel like I fucked up the chance to share this love with ghostprice and readers. But I spent too much time on it, so I'm just throwing it there, and if some other time you see me writing about mountain Aragats again, you pretend this shit never existed.

“Do you believe in God, Simon?”

A more or less expected question in a church, where sunbeams hang down from the light wells in the ceiling like see-through gauze fabric stripes, completely still in the air filled with thick smell of burning beeswax candles.

Not so expected when you’re stuck at a narrow window with a sniper rifle pointing outside, ancient walls of an Armenian church serving as basic cover for a slow-paced op. Nothing holy in this house of God, pigeon feathers left at the front steps sickly grey instead of pristine white. A few miles ahead an enormous bowl of an abandoned radio-optic telescope shined like a giant mirror on the slope of mount Aragats, blinding Ghost’s concentrated eyes with an annoying silver glint. Somewhere in the blocky constructivist building of the observatory on that same slope, among decades-old equipment and journals left open on a page with a 1990 date in the corner, were hidden remains of an abandoned space project certain Russians were suddenly interested in.

Ghost’s job was to quietly prevent them from leaving with the project in hands.

There lied a deep picturesque ravine separating God’s and scientists’ territories – a blooming rocky metaphor a little too on the nose for Simon’s liking. Clear sky above was the same for both, equally indifferent to the prayers and radio waves sent up by people desperate for answers.

He wouldn’t remember a single time his Captain didn’t answer a call through the comms.

“Unless old man in the skies sends me a cloud to get rid o’ the fuckin’ reflection, no, sir, I don’t.”

Price’s distinct chuckle bounced off dark stone walls, gruff and muffled by a cigar caught between his lips. Its smoke was one of the few things still moving in this place, barely able to push through the thick candle smell – they’d spent here so much time already that Simon had trouble remembering what did those bloody cigars smell like on their own. That meant some imaginary old man in the sky was trying to replace Price’s smell with his own in Simon’s memory, forcing him to inhale sweet, greasy air that coats the roof of your mouth with a thin layer of soft polish – more the reason to despise the guy.

There was no God waiting for Simon outside his grave when he died, only Captain Price, and as long as Ghost still roamed this Earth, it would stay that way.

“Jus’ thought he’d love ya for being able to kneel for so long.”

If the words rung in his ears like church bells, Ghost didn’t show, still a frozen picture of a perfect sniper – kneeling was the only option to fit himself at the right level to look through the narrow window. He could think of a few other things this was the right level for, but decided against it, and if the cool of the stone interior got suddenly washed away by heat raining down his scruff, that was between him and God.

There was no God here, though, only John Price.

“Let’s switch. Can’t ‘ave ya dropping yer legs like a bloody lizard tail ‘cause you sat on them for too long.”

Ghost didn’t move, acknowledging the offer with an unimpressed grunt, and blinked, fighting against his own body: as soon as Price mentioned it, his knees filled with tiny needles pressed into the squeaky joints and begged for mercy.

It was his Captain who decided whether Simon needed a break or not.

Something let out a short, sharp hiss behind him, and Ghost allowed his eyes to slide away from the target to see Price putting the butt of his cigar out in one of the water-filled trays for candles. With the myriad little flames eating away at the thin columns reflected in his sky-blue eyes, Price looked like God gazing over his land of ash-contaminated sea washing onto honey yellow shores of melted wax islands.

“Come on, boy, up. Can’t switch if yer fat arse takes up all the space.”

“Rich coming from you, sir.”

He finally moved, reluctantly, a gargoyle, foreign in the country of stone khachkar crosses, coming to live, uncoiling its creaking spine – a rod in the wide wingless back – and getting up from its aching knees. Price was already there, a firm pat on the back of his neck from a heavy hand and a smile of approval crinkling the corners of his eyes.

When Simon looked to the altar, what was left of an old Mary stared back with cracks of paint mimicking same expression around her single eye.

Price lowered himself into same position with a grunt, thick thighs bulging with the strain of his weight as he adjusted the rifle to his height – a few inches of difference that made Simon’s blood run hotter than the melted beeswax. He was hulking over his knelt Captain, shamelessly staring at that very ass, defined in the shitty lighting weaved from freshly pressed sunlight and stretched out candle flames – same lighting people are used to stare into big symmetrical eyes of holy icons.

There wasn’t enough air up here, what little oxygen left at the mountain top burnt out with those flames; Simon tilted his head back, rolling up his bally soaked with sweat gathered on his mangled upper lip, and tried inhaling with his full chest. It felt like breathing through a clogged-up cheesecloth, molecules coagulating in a hard to distribute blobs, sticking to the waxed walls of his throat. Breathing poor air made him lightheaded, uneven, hand-cut stone floor unsteady under his feet enough to force him to back away, leaning onto the altar to stay upright.

There was no God to unleash wrath on him for gripping onto the cold, rough edge of the stone table. Tuff, darkened with centuries of life Tegher Monastery led – its still light wild rock brethren scattered all around the ravine separating them and the target – tried to close onto Simon, suffocating him in a tiny crypt.

A single shot rolled down the slope, quaking ready to crumble rocks and rattling an echo. Simon’s eyes shot open – when did he even close them? – just in time to see Price lean back with a quiet, satisfied smirk. That meant target was eliminated.

Simon’s vision went black.

When the light came back, first thing he saw was a misty halo around John’s head, bright Armenian sun leaking down the light well and pooling on the brim of that bloody hat.

“Focus on me, Simon. S’alright, just breathe, aye? Gotta take ya outside, can you walk?”

He took one breath and stood up, knees buckling immediately – if not for Price’s arms catching him under his armpits, he would’ve fallen, forced to kneel at the altar of a God he didn’t believe in.

Instead, he turned his back to the one-eyed Madonna with a faceless child on the cold stone wall and leaned into the warmth of his Captain’s thigh. His cheek pressed into Price’s garter belt, eyes and mouth wide open in a suffocated awe.

“Simon? Simon, you hear me? Bloody hell…”

A handler’s hand found its way into his hair – he didn’t even realize Price had taken off his mask as soon as he started choking on thin air – and pulled, forcing Simon to look up.

He saw blue sky in a round light well, dusted over with sunlight. And then, he saw God.

Simon didn’t hear his own voice, his dry, uneven lips moving on their own, croaking out his only prayer on the last drops of oxygen in his constricted lungs. He could only see – two piercing blue light wells, widening for a second before slowly retracting back.

God smiled, running his calloused fingers through his lamb’s blonde curls.

“I know, Simon. S’alright. I know. Been waitin’ for some time t’ hear ya say that.”

A rough thumb stroked over a scar that ran a little too close to the desperate brown eye, staring up in search of a sacrificial knife and finding nothing. Simon breathed in – and felt his mind clear up with familiar musk and tobacco smell flooding his insides, gruff notes scraping the wax off, leaving him raw, unprotected and breathing.

“Better now?” Price’s smile grew brighter at the sound of a grumbling agreement. With a grunt, he gripped Simon’s arms and lifted him up, patting him over and resting his palms on the back of his boy’s neck. Guided, Simon leaned forward to rest his forehead against John’s. “Yeah, that’s it. I’ll always be there, a’right? You just follow and listen to me. ‘M gonna take care of you.”

Something forced the sunlight away from the light well – a cloud passed over the church, moving along to kill off reflection in the telescope bowl a few minutes too late.

“Do you trust me, Simon?”

“Yes, sir.”

#priceghostweek #ghostpriceweek #ghostprice #priceghost #ghost x price #price x ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #captain john price #price cod

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

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absolution - to be alone

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x wife!reader

-warnings: mdni (18+) angst, canon typical violence, death, kidnapping, mentions of blood

-word count: 3.5k

-summary: the secret of your marriage gets out and you and Ghost have to deal with the consequences

prev chapter masterlist

a/n: fair bit of violence this chapter, apologies that it took so long to write I’m having insane writers block, not proofread

“What do you mean Price knows” His voice was calm, he never yelled at you but for some reason you wished he was. His stoic state making you even more nervous,

“I had to tell him Simon he knew something was up”

“He didn’t know shit”

“Whatever he did, or didn’t know, or thought he knew, it doesn’t matter. He knows now, he understands why we didn’t tell him but atleast that weights of our chest”

“It’s not off our chest, what happens when he had to put it in our files? When he accidentally let’s slip that we’re married?”

“He wouldn’t do that”

“And you know that how?”

“Because you trust him, you’ve trusted him for years”

“Yea well the people you trust can hurt you the most” He says, standing to leave the room,

“Simon please, I’m sorry”

“It doesn’t matter now”

He closes the door and your emotions hit you, you regret everything about your decision to go to Price, but the sinking feeling in your chest wouldn’t let up until you told him. He had been surprised at first, he just assumed that the two of you were hooking up, he had no idea that you were married let alone knew each other prior to the mission, your file had pages about your previous ops but none mentioned the Lieutenant. Price was understanding in your secrecy, a little offended that Simon didn’t trust him with the knowledge but understanding none the less, he promised to keep it from the team no matter what and that was good enough for you.

Simon on the other hand wanted to wring the Captains neck, he could try to threaten him into sworn secrecy but he knew it wouldn’t work, he was furious. His only rule for your relationship being that it stayed between the two of you, and now it was compromised, yes he trusted Price with his life, but not with yours.

Simon marched his way to Prices office, his hands clenched at him sides as he knocked on the door, opening it once he heard the Captains voice.

“Simon”

“Sir”

“I understand congratulations are in order”

“Don’t”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You know why”

“I’ve read everything in your file, i know about your past, your family”

Simon winces at the mention

“You can trust me with this son”

“You need to take her off the op”

“You know you can’t make that request”

“I’m not asking as her Lieutenant”

“She’s an imperative part to this op”

“Find another sniper”

Before Price can respond Simon breezes out of the room, a cloud of fury following behind him as he storms through the halls to his shacks. He releases a deep breath, pulling his mask from his head once he’s inside. He felt betrayed, a vow as sacred as the ones you made the day you got married and you had broken it, technically he understood why, you were never great under pressure from higher ranks, he knew you couldn’t keep a lot of things to yourself given all the gossip you had told him over the years, but he trusted you with this.

He feared for you mostly, he knew he was in danger everyday, he had enemies across the globe and if word got out that you were married, a big red target would paint itself on your back. He didn’t want to think of the things his enemies would do to you in order to get to him, it made his stomach churn.

You stand in your quarters, thinking of all the things you could say, how you could apologize, and nothing comes to mind. You understand the weight of your decision but you’ve had people trying to kill your for years, you’ve made enemies of your own, you huff a breath holding yourself high.

You walk down the halls to Simons quarters before Price calls you into his office,

“Yes sir?”

“I have a favour to ask”

“Sir if it’s anything about my private life I ask that you keep it to yourself”

“It’s nothing about that Strider, trust I’ll keep that information confidential”

You nod “What do you need”

“I need recon on the building, you’re the only one with training that suits the op”

“Are you sure”

“I need the others here, you’re my only option Sargent”

“When do you need me”

“You have 3 hours to prep, a car will drop you at your view point and you’re alone from there, it’s a 3 day op but you’ll have comms”

“You need me to watch for three days?”

“There’s intel stating a transfer will occur within the week, I need your eyes to track movement”

“So no engagement”

“You do not have execute authority”

You nod, “Okay”

You leave his office, your argument with Simon gone from your mind, replaced with the anxiety of your mission. You approach his door and knock, you hear shuffling in the room before he opens it.

“Hi”

He opens the door to let you in, his head leaking out to make sure the hallways were clear. You glance around the room, his desk is a mess with open pages,

“You’re writing again?”

“Just, had some stuff I needed to get out”

“Si”

“I don’t want to fight about it, what’s done is done”

“Okay.. I’m leaving for a few days”

“What do you mean? You’re going home?”

“No”

He raises an eyebrow in question,

“Solo recon”

“Absolutely not”

“Simon please”

“Is he trying to punish me for not telling him about us?”

“What are you talking about”

“He’s sending you out alone, to punish me”

“Simon no one’s punishing you, this is the reason Price asked for me”

“I don’t want you out there with no backup”

“I’ll have comms to the base, I won’t be close enough for them to get anywhere near me”

Simon’s skin heats with anger, you move toward him, hands holding his at his side as you try to calm him.

“I’ll do this, then i’ll go home” You say with a heavy breath. You feel his muscles loosen slightly, his head moving down so his eyes can stare into yours, those dark orbs so full of emotion.

“Three days” He says and you nod, bringing your cheek to rest against his chest, his hands moving to roam your back.

“Three days and i’m back home”

“Safe” He mutters, his arms holding you against him.

You leave Simons room a few minutes later, bidding your goodbyes before moving to your quarters to pack your gear. You have 20 minutes before you have to meet your car, you’re breathing deeply, the mission wasn’t rare to you, spending time alone peering from rooftops was practically half your job in your last team, but being there, knowing Simon was only so far away. You knew he risked his life every time he left, you never asked the details, you didn’t want to stress about every little thing, this felt different, you were so close yet so far apart, you throw your bag over your shoulder and walk towards the outer doors.

Ghost is standing beside the car, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing here”

“I’m driving you, Captain owed me a favour”

You scoff at him jokingly before loading into the vehicle, as the two of you drive off. Your position wasn’t that far, about a 40 minute drive till you got dropped off and had to walk the rest of the way.

“Keep channel 4 open, that’s where you’ll contact me”

“I’m only supposed to talk to Price”

“Keep it open” He says with a glare, his gloved hand moving to rest on your thigh. You watch the terrain pass you by as you keep driving, dry mountains breezing past your eyesight. You arrive at an dirt road and Ghost turns the engine off, he sits silently for a few minutes, his free hand roaming across the wheel before you turn your body, taking his hand in yours.

“It’ll be okay”

“I know”

“I’m very good at what I do”

“I know that too”

“I’ll see you in three days”

He huffs a breath and nods, hands moving to pull his mask up slightly before leaning in to kiss you, he holds your cheek deepening the kiss before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“Just be careful”

You squeeze his hand tenderly before stepping out of the car and grabbing your gear.

“I love you” You say

“I love you too doll”

You begin walking away, while Ghosts sits in the car until your figure fades from view, there was nothing he could do now but leave, he had to trust you.

Your walk was harsh, the dry terrain mixed with the beaming sun doing damage to your lungs, huffing your way across the ground before you made it to the small city, navigating around back alleys. You locate your view point, climbing an outer ladder to reach the top, sneaking into an open window where you position yourself, your scope settling on the target building in the distance.

“Alpha leader this is Strider how copy?”

“Good copy Strider, are you in position”

“Affirm”

“Alright, keep eyes, take note of any movement in or out, I want a head count”

“Copy, out”

You settle in to your position, eyes locked onto the building for signs of movement. Hours pass without anyone going in or out, you’ve traded your scope for spotting binoculars as the sun went down slowly, the warm air encompassing you in the abandoned building. No movement anywhere that you could see, no cars, no people, you had no idea what you were looking for.

Night falls and you have to toss your visionary aids aside, relying on trying to spot lights from the building, there’s a single room illuminated, you can see through the window but you can’t make out any bodies. You return to your scope in hopes of recognizing someone in the room, watching but you see no shadows or movement.

“Strider how copy?” Ghosts voice rings through your comms.

“Hey babe”

“Keep it professional, may have prying ears”

“Copy”

“You alright”

“No movement, getting bored”

“Bored is better than dead”

You huff a laugh, “That’s true”

“How are things on base?”

“Price wants us shipping out in the morning”

“So you’ll be gone when I get back”

“Most likely”

“Alright” You try to hide the sadness in your voice

“He thinks the mission should be finished within the the next weeks”

“Oh”

“I’ll be home with you before you know it”

“I’ll be waiting”

“I have to go, be safe”

“I love you Simon”

“I’ll see you at home”

You smile, only a handful of days and you’d be back home, safe with your husband, not worrying about the state of his life, just enjoying being with eachother.

“Strider this is Price”

“Sir”

“Reports of a convoy moving near your position, do you have eyes”

You take a minute too look around, your scope landing on a group of trucks passing by a road.

“Copy, count 5 vehicles”

“Are they carrying anything”

“Negative, doesn’t look to be any cargo”

“What about people”

“Count maybe 17 men, all armed”

“Do you see our hostage”

“Sir I thought this was recon”

“Do you have eyes Strider”

You look around, “Sir is that?”

“Affirm, you see her?”

“Affirm Sir, I have eyes on the hostage, she’s bound, they’re moving her into the house”

“Copy, keep watch, do not engage under any circumstances”

“Copy Sir”

Your comms go silent as you watch the scene in front of you, a middle aged woman with blonde hair has her arms bound behind her, a cloth mask over her eyes as the group of men force her towards the building before disappearing inside. You aim your scope at the windows, trying to get a view but all the curtains are drawn, you can vaguely make out shadows passing by.

You watch as the figures look by the windows, they sit the women down in a chair, 3 men gathered around her. You can’t make anything out, adjusting your scope to get a closer look before your eyes sting from the light, one of the men had opened the curtains to look outside, leaving them that way, enough space for you to get a clear view.

They’re yelling something, speaking to each other, you watch the woman tremble and flinch every time one of them shouts. You know your orders but every bone in your body is urging you to help.

“Sir permission to assist”

“Negative, do not interfere”

“Captain they’re going to kill her”

“Your orders are to watch Sargent”

“Sir”

“Do not engage”

You think over your options, your instincts taking over, fuck it I’m off the team either way.

You race down the side of the building, disassembling your rifle for close range shots, your legs are moving faster than your mind as you sprint towards the building, you find a high point and settle into the grass. There’s atleast 15 hostiles in the building, you scope around, 7 outside scattered, you can pick them off.

“Strider, report”

“Sorry Sir”

You take your ear piece out, with a deep breath you push yourself from the ground, hastily moving through the darkness, advancing towards the house. You make your way around the back, pulling out your knife, one man turns the corner and you grab him, digging your knife into the side of his neck as his body drops.

You make your way around the perimeter, killing them one by one, your breath heavy for the exertion. You find the last man, your hand moving to cover his mouth as you slice his throat, the blood pouring from his wound coating your skin seven down, eight to go. Your whole body feels sticky, covered in a layer of blood, sweat and dirt as you wipe off your knife, putting it away in favour of your sidearm.

You attach the silencer and open the front doors, immediately firing off two rounds into the heads of the men.

six

You turn your body, peering around corners, there’s one in the kitchen.

five

You clear the bottom floor, slowly inching up the stairs, one at the top and you shoot him, his body falls down the steps, landing with a thud, you pray it wasn’t loud enough to alert anyone. You start upstairs, clearing the rooms, two are arguing in the office.

two left.

You clear the rest of the area, making your way to the large bedroom at the end of the hall, even through the men arguing you can hear Prices yells through your comms.

You take a breath, counting your bullets, you had three left. You open the door firing one off into the head of the man in front of you, the woman in the chair screaming as the shot rings through the air.

You move to fire at the other man but he grabs your hand, you miss. He pushes you to the ground, your bodies fighting for control as his weight pins you, your arms reach for your gun as his hands grasp around your throat. You’re thrashing under him trying to throw him off, choking for air as he tightens his grip.

Your vision spotty as you lose strength,

“Strider! Get out now!” Ghosts voice comes through your comms, enough to bring you back as your fingers feel for your weapon, grabbing it and hitting it against the man’s temple. He releases you, stumbling over your body as you brave yourself and shoot, his body falls onto you with a thud, his blood pooling around your head as you gasp for air.

You use all your strength to push him off, steadying yourself before stepping towards the woman, she’s writhing against her constraints.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, i’m gonna get you out”

You slowly pull the mask from her eyes, they’re bloodshot and pooled with tears.

“I’m with Captain Price, I’m gonna get you home”

She’s a wreck of choked sobs as you cut her constraints, her body falls against you as you hold her up, walking her out. She’s looking around as the mess of bodies, clinging to you as you descent the stairs.

You exit the building, walking slowly in tandem with her as you reach a patch of grass tall enough for cover.

“Here, sit down” You hand her a small bottle of water and she takes it with shaky hands, gulping down the liquid before settling.

“Thank you”

“Does she know you’re here” You ask

The woman nods, “She watched them take me”

Your hand moves to slowly caress her arm, a small attempt to comfort her.

“Price”

“Sergeant you better have a goddamn explanation”

“I have the hostage, she’s safe”

Price signs deeply, “Are you hurt”

“Negative”

“Get her to the city, we’ll extract from there”

“Copy Sir”

You sit for a while, allowing the woman to compose herself before you help her up, the two of you making your way back to the streets of Panama.

The noise was overwhelming, a stark contrast from the silence you kept the last 24 hours, you find an old building, smashing the window to access the door lock before guiding her in.

“Shouldn’t be long”

She nods

“Does she know I’m safe, does Kate know?”

“I don’t think so”

“Okay”

Ghosts voice calls through your earpiece, “Strider, what’s you position”

“In an old building, northeast end of the city, there’s a small restaurant across the street”

“Copy, closing in”

You wait in silence, the sound of tires passing over dirt grabs your attention, you move to the window to look outside. You see Price and Ghost exit the car, looking around for hostiles, you move back to settle at the woman’s side,

“Okay” You touch her shoulder

“Monica, my names Monica”

“Okay Monica, my team is here, they’re gonna bring you back to our base where the doctor will check you out, then we’ll get you home”

“You trust them?”

“With my life”

She nods, you lock your arms under her shoulders, helping her to stand as the two men enter the building, dropping their weapons when they spot you.

“Jesus christ Strider, did you kill then all yourself”

“Something like that”

Price takes over hold on Monica, helping her to the car as Simon stands in front of you, his eyes staring daggers.

“Si”

“I don’t want to hear it, you’ll go home tonight”

“What, I have to make sure she’s safe”

“The team will take over, you disobeyed direct orders. You’re going home Sargent”

You stand to argue but he just turns and leaves, you’re alone in your anger before you walk to the car, settling in beside Monica in the back as Price turns the engine on. The ride was dead silent, not a word exchanged between the four of you, Monica had stopped shaking by the time you arrived back at base.

You help her out of the car, moving to help her inside before Price stops you,

“Your flights in two hours, be on deck before then”

You stare at him, unable to hide the disappointment in your face as you walk to the medical wing. You get Monica settled in to the bed and she falls asleep almost instantly, the stress taking a toll on her body. You sit with her for a few minutes, ensuring that she was okay before you move to your room to shower.

The water runs red as you wash the blood from your skin, feeling like you could finally breath, you need to talk to Simon but you don’t know what to say. You know if you leave base angry it won’t do you any good, he didn’t do well with emotions, he’d bottle them up before even dating to expose himself.

You spend some time packing your things, making sure to grab everything, your hands toying with the ring around your neck making your way to the plane deck.

Simon is standing in front of your plane, you move to him with regret in your eyes, your arms wrapping to envelop him but he pushes you back.

“Keep it together”

“I’m sorry Si”

“No time for that now” His hand moves to grab yours, his thumb rubbing tender circles over the skin. “I’ll see you at home”

He leaves without another word, you watch his form recede before stepping into the plane, the sound of the engine drowning out anything else before you feel yourself lift into the air. You’re filled with dread as you watch the base get smaller, you won’t be able to contact your husband for upwards of a month, and your last memory is him mad at you, you hated arguing in any form.

You lean your head back, settling in as the plane reaches the clouds, closing your eyes in an attempt to dream of anything but your anxiety.

Taglist: @chloepluto1306 @thychuvaluswife @valdemarismynonbinarylove @simply-vulpecula @lostinsideourminds @pampeop @bloodandthestars @tomhollandisabae @copiasratscheese @giveme-gaskarth

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022

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exeggcute · 1 year ago

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well it's been almost six months which I think is long enough to break my posting embargo, so, uh: guess what! I got liposuction lol. specifically hip/thigh lipo to quell some pretty wicked dysphoria that stemmed from having such a feminine silhouette… and I have to say I'm really, really pleased with the results.

tbh my initial plan was to keep things under wraps for good which is why I haven't said anything about it yet (and even as I'm typing this up I keep debating whether to post it or trash it)—partly because I was/am worried people might Act Weird about it and partly because I get a little embarrassed talking about bodygendershit in general. but here we are. one reason I do feel compelled to finally share, other than being super happy about how everything went, is that I haven't encountered a lot of discussions about body sculpting as a possible avenue of gender-affirming care (although, to be fair, maybe I just haven't been looking in the right places) and I figured at least one person out there would be interested to learn about what I did and where I've ended up so far.

anyway. pics/details under the cut—nothing even remotely risqué (or yucky), I just know that body image stuff is fraught + not everyone is eager to hear surgery talk.

to be precise: I got tumescent liposuction of the inner and outer thigh, plus this ultrasound thing to help the skin shrink. a different surgeon who I consulted (but ultimately did not go with for a number of reasons) said that even if I got the results I wanted from lipo, which he claimed was unlikely, the affected skin would look loose/baggy/weird forever... and that surgeon was wrong on both counts lol. my elasticity was great bitch!!!!

they didn't take out that much fat overall, only eight pounds or so, but it's way more about the Where than the How Much. my actual surgeon (who kicks ass btw) said lipo isn't that great for weight loss per se, and what it's really good for is sculpting targeted areas—so basically exactly what I did. six months post-op I actually weigh about the same as what I did pre-op, but the distribution has held steady; more weight goes to my stomach now and less, proportionally, goes to my hips since there are fewer fat cells in that area now. so my silhouette retains its new shape!

the overall change is admittedly on the subtle side, since I'm pretty short and have wide hip bones (and you can't change your literal skeleton) but it's still gone a looooooong way. the main thing I requested from my surgeon was "I want to fit in men's pants" and boy did he deliver.

also a good place to note that if you're in the las vegas area looking for a plastic and/or cosmetic surgeon—this guy is board-certified in both btw—then I absolutely have the guy for you. feel free to DM me for details. lipo is clearly his specialty (and it shows!) but he also does a lot of breast revisions/mastopexy (i.e., fixing implants that other surgeons did a bad job putting in), regular implants, and face work (particularly facial feminization surgery). one thing that sold me on this guy was an enthusiastic yelp review from a local stripper who said he hid the incisions for her breast lift in her armpits so none of her clients would notice that she'd had work done... a true master of his craft

okay you've scrolled enough so I'll give you what you're here for lol. I don't have many pre-op pics because I was obviously unhappy with how I looked and was not taking full-body selfies on a regular basis, but here's a few I took ~2 weeks beforehand:

these super thin men's joggers were my go-to dysphoria pants, to the point where I bought five pairs in different colors, but now they're so baggy on me that they have the opposite effect and make it look like I have wider hips than I do. so I retired them from my wardrobe...

...except not immediately because I had to wear compression garments 24/7 for the first three months post-op and these joggers were just loose enough to comfortably wear a medical girdle underneath them at all times, 110° degree temperatures be damned. (not that I was going out much for the first month since I was soooooooooooo fucking bruised and sore lol.) here's a few post-op pics in the same style pants:

(first pic is less than 24 hours post-op, about to go to my follow-up appointment, looking greasy as fuck because I wasn't allowed to shower yet; second pic two days post-op and also post-shower, thankfully; third pic is about a month post-op.)

so, like, CLEAR improvement already. I will not be posting pictures of my black-and-blue-and-swollen-all-over legs but considering how puffy I was from getting internally pummeled with a cannula it's wild that I still saw improvement literally as soon as I came home.

recovery was obviously not a blast in the moment but I got off easy, all things considered. I was supposed to get drains put in and was Not looking forward to that at all lol. the first thing I asked when I woke up after surgery was "how many drains?" because they weren't sure if I'd end up needing two or four, but it turned out the answer was zero. no drains!!!

I did have to lie with my feet elevated for the first two weeks straight, and had major bruising that receded over the first month (you could barely see my regular skin underneath all the mottled spots), but little to no nerve pain, no weird complications, and I was more or less back to normal after six weeks. also noelle took very very good care of me and was brave about injecting me with blood thinners so I wouldn't get clots and die :)

when I went into it I was fully expecting to get huge vertical scars up and down the sides of my legs (and had made peace with it!) but instead I wound up with four tiny incisions like this, each less than two inches long:

what's totally crazy is that the scars are basically Gone now. like even when I'm trying to find them I struggle to locate the ones in the front. I joked to noelle that if someone did an autopsy on me they might not figure out that I'd had cosmetic surgery, especially since the skin on my thighs is back to its normal color and texture. (in this scenario I like to imagine that it's dana scully giving me the autopsy and I'm in an x-files plot where instead of regular lipo I got alien lipo and mulder figures it out purely by accident.)

with lipo it can take up to a year to see the full results but I already feel so much fucking better in my body that seeing old pre-op pics throws me for a loop. and I can absolutely wear men's pants now—pants for short and stocky men, to be fair, but actual regular men's pants and not exclusively Pants For Men With Huge Butts And Legs. which is the only style I could even hope to fit in before. and even then it was a stretch.

big pic dump of shitty mirror selfies taken over the last few months:

(also I really debated sharing this one but I already included it in the yelp review I left my surgeon so fuck it: here's a tasteful before-and-after in my undies where you can see my bare legs for easier comparison. left pic is one week pre-op, right pic is about five months post-op. including it as a link instead of embedding it in the post in case your boss happens to be reading over your shoulder at this very moment. also this is the one and only time you will ever see me stripped down on tumblr dot com so don't get used to it lol.)

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chromatic-lamina · 3 days ago

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Law couldn't kill his biological parents

Because the government had done it for him. 👇

Doflamingo, on the other hand— ☝️

Law did, however, inadvertently enclose his sibling in a death trap 👇

But, like Cora, he didn't pull the trigger.

(but also, like Doflamingo, he didn't die).

Doflamingo, like Law was not responsible for the loss of his and Rosi's childhood protection and innocence 👇

And Homing seemed to be more ineffectual (at least in the anime) than Law's Dad, although he was up against a LOT, but obviously underprepared. Guess the slaves did all the fighting and defending in Marie Geoise. I don't think it's reason enough to get your brains blown out.

Conversely, Law's dad was proactive and there seemed to be little reason for Law to despise him. His individual actions also hadn't brought on the ire of angry mobs over sustained periods of time, but Law did experience this once h'ed lost everything.

And the people of Flevance were collectively targeted for who they were. Both fathers were generally targeted for what they represented rather than who they were. Likewise, Law, and the Donquixote brothers were targeted in similar ways. All three carried a hereditary affliction, depending on which way you look at it.

BUT I believe that Law deeply wanted to believe both Doflamingo's words about blood ties, and Cora's words about Doflamingo not going to shoot him because he was his brother (despite Cora also saying two chapters previously that Doflamingo would expect Cora to die for him if he consumed the Ope-Ope no Mi, because Doflamingo would expect Cora to perform the eternal youth operation).

I believe that Law wants to believe the words of the brothers, because there was nothing more shocking in the world for him (up to the point of Cora's death) than to have his sister and mother and father (and classmates and teacher) die in front of him. And as said in another meta:

He had stayed behind to look after Lami: An action which ironically saved him from perishing with his classmates, but which might have sealed Lami's fate. I don't think he could imagine deliberately harming his family. Of course, he is 13 on Minion Island, and is not Doflamingo's 28 years of age. (And 10 year old Doflamingo definitely protected Rosi, before he killed their father).

Law did, nonetheless, show that at a young age he was able to inflict harm on fairly random strangers when he shanked Cora, not without provocation (but he paid Buffalo off in ice cream, so the child or the psychopath were both perhaps evident in Law. Seeing as we know canon events, my cash is on the former. Without intervention, though, who knows?) Provocation might have been wearing the name genocide.

But, back to family. Considering how upset Law was with the loss of his family, and understandably how traumatic it is to have a loved one, loved ones, one's whole town, slaughtered in front of you, especially at the age of eight or slightly older (yes, when Doflamingo shot Homing, he was the age that Law was when Flevance fell (10 years), then...

...then I really don't blame Cora for not being head-over-heels in love with his brother. I find claims that Doffy's actions "weren't that bad" puzzling. I think there are some things and states of being that you can just never return to. Violation is violation, and at the age that Cora was (eight-years-old) the effects run deep (but, c'mon, you're in the same room as a killer who happens to be your brother; you're being held by your father, and then you're covered in your father's blood, brains and bone shards? Did his dying body fall on you? And your brother's still holding the gun? And you're eight? Even as an adult, I don't think I'd recover).

Homing should have fought and protected Rosi, though, in this instance, and stepped up as much as he could have, and maybe he did. And, yeah, Doflamingo was seemingly influenced and manipulated by his much older (bar Vergo) executives, but he's the dude holding the smoking gun in the end! I'm not saying he's not a ten-year old victim too, but he's a scary one, especially due to his youth. Others (protagonists) in the One Piece world have escaped ineffective or cruel parenting with far less bloodshed to others or their kin (antagonists, not so much).

I love Doflamingo. He's a fabulous villain with a tragic back story. He's complex, layered and fun to write. And the nature/nurture argument rages hugely with him, and yeah, his pragmatics do make some things good for some people some of the time. But that man knows how to move goal posts, and the posts are booby-trapped.

Anyhoo, maybe this is another dive into the parallels between Law and Doflamingo that veer off into very different paths. And that I love a bat-shit-crazy Donquixote Family AU as much as the next person, BUT I think that Cora was rightly very wary of his brother and that he has/had good reason to be. In canon-verse, if he hadn't died (so AU canon-verse!) I can't see him returning happily back to the Family. True, though. You mess with fire, you get burnt, but Doffy is far from a saint, and I think Cora's aware of that at an intrinsic and self-preserving level.

#one piece #one piece meta #opmeta #donquixote brothers #trafalgar law #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #long post #chromalami #chromameta

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bluerose5 · 2 months ago

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I'm writing this because a) it's my blog, I can do whatever the hell I want and b) I've been seeing such an increase of these types of posts on my dash and for the website/app that preaches that they're about "community", some of y'all are pretentious as fuck when it comes to fandom.

Why am I seeing all these damn posts lowkey belittling people, whether it be in a "joking" sense or otherwise, about how they do fandom? Then the OPs wanna cry in the replies about how they didn't mean it that way when people address it, and some of these posts go completely unchallenged as well. And the fact that so many people are reblogging these posts is so discouraging! Y'all, I hate to tell you but just because you headcanon things for this reason over another, just because you stick to a certain amount of canon compared to others, or you characterize so and so character based off of these specific bits of canon, oooo it's so "in-character"... Say it with me now, THAT DOES NOT MAKE YOU A BETTER FAN IN ANY INHERENT SENSE.

These posts have been veiling these sentiments under joking tones or by specifically trying to make it a preference thing, but there is often an air of superiority to them that is so easy to see, especially as a writer. I cannot stress this enough. STOP ALIENATING YOUR FAN CREATORS BY SUGGESTING ONE METHOD OF FANDOM IS INFERIOR TO OTHERS. If it's not hurting anyone, then be supportive. Now, of all times, is not when we should be tearing others down with these slick ass remarks, thinking y'all actually did something with those posts. And if anyone reading this feels guilty or defensive about what I said for some reason or another, then evaluate why that is and how you can do better to support your fandom creators better.

To any creators who need to hear this, write that crackfic, write that ship with no interaction, write that crossover. Get silly with it, and just write it, no matter what the haters say! I remember when I was younger and just started reading fanfiction, some of my favorite indulgent fics were those where the cast of characters would read the book/watch the movie/interact with their chosen media they were from. Those fics got me through hard times, and I loved the author's notes where the writers spoke with the characters. Point is, don't let anyone take your fun, magic, and joy out of fandom. Don't let them convince you that what you do is somehow lesser or "cringe" because you're having a good time. Somewhere, someone out there is your target audience and they're more than grateful for what you do! 💙

#fandom rant #fandom #fandom critical #writers #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #writing #fanfic writing #fan creators #bluerose rambles

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ursa-the-stranger · 1 year ago

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Op had to restrict replies but I wanted to reblog so heres a copy paste of it sans op's name. I will take this down if they ask however.

I have been noodling over posting this for several days but I think it's important for some people to hear.

At a March on Saturday, at a pro Palestine march, my group and I were targeted by by nazis. Not targeted for violence, but targeted for recruitment. They weren't wearing swastikas, they weren't spewing blatant antisemitic hate speech. They seemed like two normal dudes. They marched with us, talked about how awful everything in Palestine was, how we wished world leaders would grow a pair and hold Israel responsible for fucking war crimes, how existing in the world right now was hard. They were empathetic, they were kind, they seemed like genuine good dudes.

Until we passed a synagogue where people were handing our water to marchers. They had signs defending Palestine on their table. But the tone of the conversation changed. These two seemingly normal dudes started talking about how "performative" the gesture felt, that Jewish people should be doing more. That they needed to PROVE it. They started talking about "Zionist" propaganda in the US, about how it was deeply entrenched in capitalism. Things that, on the surface, seemed reasonable but it set off alarm bells in my head.

When I was a kid, I remember getting the speech of "don't repeat anything your uncle or cousin so and so says and don't argue with them. Try to avoid them but if you can't be polite." Because those uncles and cousins said a lot of hateful things about anyone who wasn't like them, but their favorite targets were black people and Jewish people. I would find out as an adult it was because many of those uncles and cousins were in the Klan. When I studied hate symbols for a class in college, I found my self looking at images I'd seen on arms and necks and hands my whole life, because I live in an area of the US where the KKK is still around. And standing in that crowd, listening to these guys talk, i had the most horrible realization I've had in a long time.

We were being fished by Nazis. We were a group of able body, white American leftists. At a march in support of stopping the murder and genocide of Palestinians, these motherfuckers were out here, trying to find people they could get to hate Jewish folks. I wasn't the only one in my group who clocked it, and when we called them on it, the masks came off. They called us a bunch of "Jew loving bitches" before they moved on.

But we're marched with these guys for a couple hours, talked with them, laughed with them, brought them into our circle. For a moment we forgot we also weren't immune to propaganda, we weren't immune to people who make hate sound reasonable and that people like that never start out saying the quiet part out loud, they lean on your anger and your sense of helplessness to move you where they want you. If the last eight years has taught us anything, it's that fascists know how to adjust to the times, to work with what they got, to recruit. They know how to radicalize people, how to weaponize anger and helplessness. And I'm sitting here, every day, seeing posts that sound exactly like these guys did and it worries me.

I know I'm talking to the No Reading Comprehension Website, but I'm begging you guys to develop some now.

You are not immune to propaganda. We are all angry, as we fucking should be. We are watching an entire culture, thousands of lives, whole bloodlines, being wiped out in real time, and for many of us our nations are at best, wringing their hands, and at worst, shipping them weapons, all to protect capitalist greed. It's monstrous, it's disgusting. But look, REALLY LOOK, at the things you are tweeting, sharing, look at the language and how it's used. Take the time to educate yourself about how hate groups use social justice causes and civil unrest to recruit, research the posts your spreading, check your sources. If you are out protesting, be situationally aware, and do not be afraid to clock and call out Nazis. Listen to Jewish people, listen to their concerns, educate yourself on what Zionism and antisemitism actually are and how they can be weaponized. It doesn't feel as good as rage, it doesn't feel as good as having a group you can functionally rail against in a way we can't against a nation a world away, but it's a skill that's going to help you and a lot of other people in the long run.

#keep your wits about you. hold love for the best of people and the worst of people in your heart. always search for the facts for yourself

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generalb · 14 days ago

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Concept custom card for King Ghidorah, specifically the version from King of the Monsters!

Now usually I’d include my reasonings for the abilities and whatnot here, but I spend the better part of an hour figuring this shit out, and all of that brainstorming? I did on this post. So if you’re interested in how I came to this, it’s all under the cut. If you want an *exact* explanation for the abilities, send a reply on this post! As always, constructive criticism and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Oh and before I forget,

(Personally I’m leaning a bit towards yes)

How would I go about making a King Ghidora mtg card?

A better question: how would I make a *unique* King Ghidora magic card?

We have to start with the basis of what I know about King Ghidora, which is unfortunately very little. Most of what I know comes from common knowledge, the semi-recent King of the Monsters film, and that weird version in the anime trilogy that was on Netflix that one time. Is that paltry amount of information good enough? Let’s see.

King Ghidora:

Flies

Is from space

Has three heads

Can regenerate said heads and probably partial amounts of itself

Can fire energy beams from all three heads

Is usually on par or stronger than Godzilla.

In Kotm, it’s able to corral other Kaijus to work for it, what with that whole Alpha Titan nonsense.

Seems like a good enough start right?

Wrong! Let me explain by saying why the Godzilla custom card I made is of Shin Godzilla, and not normal Godzilla.

The difficulty in making a plain Godzilla card is because he’s a giant lizard that has a ranged attack. Normally, this translates into a creature with a high toughness and power, maybe a trample or menace, and then an ability that would do ranged damage to creatures. There’d even be space for flavor text.

This is the conundrum I see with a king Ghidora. At most, I can give it Flying, high power/toughness, and maybe an attack that can deal a certain amount of damage up to one, two, or three targets to represent the three heads. But that isn’t interesting to me! If you don’t know, Ikoria released a lot of giant creatures.

Like, a lot of them. Hell, this was the set that had the Godzilla Secret layers that didn’t mesh well enough to get me interested in the first place!

Now perhaps I just don’t go out enough anymore, but I don’t think I’ve run into any of these giant creatures from Ikoria. Some like the Apex’s can be excused since Ikoria also leaned heavily into the Mutate mechanic along with the giant Beasts. But there plenty of creatures, legendary or not, that are still in play in commander from even before Ikoria, sometimes because their abilities are just plain stupid(Krenko Mob Boss) but most others due to how fun it is to build a deck around(Xantcha, Sleeper Agent).

When i look to play commander, i want someone strong, perhaps not op, but im at least looking for abilities where i can say, “yeah, that’s cool! I can think of a way to exploit it.” And when i look at a big flying dinosaur alien that fires lasers, i just don’t see it. King Ghidora, in all its complexity, manages to be as boring as King Kong in terms of abilities. Very cool in the movies, but in card building? There’s very little I can see that i could give it that couldn’t just be given to a Godzilla card or any other Titan.

I could give it the alpha nonsense but even that could go on a Godzilla or even King Kong card if I went there. No, the truly unique part of Ghidora that baseline Godzilla doesn’t appear to have is its regenerative effects. But even that is hard to represent. While the Keyword Ability Regenerate does exist, it’s not exactly in theme. Ghidora, after all, isn’t able to completely regenerate from scratch, else it wouldn’t have lost to Godzilla. And usually, all creatures “regenerate” at the end of each turn, reverting to their power/toughness before any damage dealt.

Of course, I’m not the first to take a crack at this. What have others done for Ghidora?

…hmm. There’s *some* neat ideas. Nothing that scrathes right though. What if I go back and watch the first fight between it and Godzilla in kotm?

youtube

Okay first off WOW they keep cutting to the people so much in these fights. Remember when people were mad they cut away form the fights in the 2014 movie? I’d rather that then Monster-human-monster-human-monster. Jesus.

Anyways, something neat I noticed: Ghidora isn’t exactly stronger than Godzilla per se, but is smarter. The three heads often worked to subdue Godzilla rather than deal massive, devastating blows. Guessing here, but it seems that its Anti-Godzilla strategy is to tire it out and then go for the kill.

Hmm…..strong, but not much stronger…..works smarter, evades Godzillas biggest attacks, and doesn’t seem to take much damage when they hit anyways. Laser beams. Intimidation tactics. Sends smaller Titans to fight and weaken. Indirect damage?

You know, I’m starting to see something here. Perhaps Izzet? You know what cards are coming to mind? ghyrson Starn, Kelermorph, Captain Ripley Vance, and Stella Lee, Wild Card. I like it’s 6/6, but with the abilities I’m thinking of, perhaps a 4/5 would be a bit more even. What can happen in thirds enough that it could be done at least once per turn but not to the point that it’s insane?

Ghidorah is clever, to the point where it uses sources outside its natural abilities . In that case, I think some form of card manipulation might be possible. Perhaps something that lets you look at the 3 top cards of your library , before putting them back in any order. Than another ability that lets you revela the top of your deck, and if it’s a creature, King Ghidorah deals 3 damage to any target? This is a neat idea, but it doesn’t feel like something a Kaiju should be able to do.

Ooo! I’ve got it! Storm! Okay I have an idea I’m gonna go put it together

#mtg #magic the gathering #mtg custom card #king ghidorah #godzilla #godzilla king of the monsters #monster zero #mtg commander #Youtube

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edenfenixblogs · 4 months ago

Note

hope you dont mind me sending an ask being a total stranger and all, i just don't wanna bother op of that post

fd does bring up the fact kendrick is a BHI/hotep briefly, specifically that that's great ammo for a beef because to most people the bhi/hoteps are considered weird and embarrassing and would be insanely easy to make fun of in a beef (at least according to most black people I've spoken with & fd himself), but also he believes that drake probably doesn't even really grasp what they are because he's distanced himself in such a specific way from the black community (and arguably jewish community as well, though i think fd only kinda alludes to it) in a really specific way- BUT, that it was an evolution, he started out in a very odd cultural position where he was ostracized for simultaneously recieving antiblackness from white & jewish communities he was a part of but also seen as "not black enough" by many black people (and it's still a bullshit take people will have)

that desire to fit in is what led him down a shitty road, but also drake already clearly had some clearly terrible behaviors already. he talks about how kendrick was being unhinged too and isnt necessarily one to talk

overall the video is more about the music history behind it and the connection between it and the current culture, and just kinda what led to this climate that could want the downfall of drake

i dont know if i agree on drake not knowing about BHIs, though i could believe he doesnt with how he really weirdly constantly codeswitches even wrt jewishness, but imho fd doesnt like to touch on areas where he really cannot speak to the experience, he's said as much in the past, so he only speaks very briefly of the black perspective of how hoteps are goofy as hell

sorry for rambling, im really into music, think fd did the video well although i dont agree with all his opinions, and just wanted to articulate it correctly that it's really more about the musical climate than anything else :)

I don’t mind this message at all!!! In fact, I’m so grateful for it!

This is all really good info. I would believe that Drake didn’t know about BHI, tbh. I didn’t know about it until a couple years ago when Ice Cube (who I grew up loving 😭😭😭) did some heinous shit awhile ago and I was like “Why did my man come for us Jews what the fuck??”

And then a mutual told me about BHI and I looked up. And found a whole new group of people who hate, dehumanize and erase us. 🙃🙃🙃🙃

I mean, theoretically, maybe Drake may have had more exposure to it as a Black and Jewish man. His mere existence makes him more of a target for people invested in that kind of ideology. But also, I do and always have very much gotten the sense that he was ostracized from much of the black community for his Jewishness and mixed race reasons—not due any specific issue in the black community, but just because people are always dicks to people who don’t neatly fit into social categories in expected ways. I can also see how being a Black rapper in white-passing Jewish circles could have been very uncomfortable if those white-passing Jews were inclined to tokenize or exclude him. So it’s possible to me that his bilateral isolation might have insulated him from BHI discourse.

Tbh I don’t think code switching is weird in almost any circumstance. It’s just a development in reaction to your environment. I have a really multiethnic and multicultural family and code switch all the time. I think if it seems weird when Drake does it, it might just be because he has not developed (and tbh should never have had to develop) a strong sense of what “version” of Drake he is supposed to be. So when he tries to read the room and meet expectations, be just does it badly. But it’s not his fault in the long run. It is fault of people who expect him to fit those expectations in the first place.

I respect the hell outta fd for staying in his lane and only speaking on what he understands. And with this context I’m glad he brings up BHI at all. Because it *is* relevant. Being Black and Jewish ANYWHERE are both identities that permeate every single element of someone’s lived experience. When dealing with a beef between people where one is Black and Jewish and the other is Black and attempts to usurp Jewishness by re-categorizing it historically and racially…the cultural friction at play is absolutely relevant.

I’m sure it isn’t the whole story or even likely to be the most important factor in their beef. But it is definitely A factor and it wouldn’t have been right to leave it undressed. Especially when the beef took off as antisemitism more broadly was on the rise due to current events.

I am glad to know that most people still see BHI as a goody ideology. There’s still wayyy too many people who believe it, though. I’ve lived with the consequences of their hatred for white-passing Jews for several months now and it is…unpleasant. But mostly it’s heartbreaking. I grew up listening to Ice Cube. I used to cite James Baldwin. I adored Alice Walker. And finding out that they hate me one by one was devastating. But the worst part has been OTHER BHI folks using their words to justify their own hatred of me and all Jews like me while simultaneously making me feel like I was harming them in some way just by existing.

I want to be clear that I do not and never have believed that most black people believe BHI bullshit. I’m only saying that it was a shock to me the sheer number of people who DO believe it and how vehemently they hold that belief and direct that vehement *emotion* directly at me. It’s really good for me to know that people who aren’t Jewish are publicly speaking out against BHI bullshit. It restores a lot of hope for me.

So ok. I’m back on the “maybe I’ll watch in a little bit when I’m less raw” train. I also love music, even though I’m certainly not up to date on it. So I’m intrigued to know more about the musical landscape of what’s going on.

Thanks again!

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #BHI antiswmitism #music

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justplainwhump · 5 months ago

Text

Arrival

Dany is brought to the facility.

Part 3 in Angel's abduction. [1 - Over] [2 - Red].

[Making Angel Masterpost]

Content / warnings: Abduction, threats, intimate whumper, noncon kissing, implied future noncon, whumper pov.

Operation Angel, Alex Nadler had baptized the latest acquisition job. Patrick didn't know their reasons - Nadler played everything close to their chest, and WRU drove a strict need-to-know policy anyway. But having seen the target stroll down the street in that pristinely white dress of hers, he couldn't deny the poetry in that designation.

It was a pleasure, working with Nadler. Their experience in planning ops didn't come from serving under the same flag that Pat and his men had once sworn on; but it was brutally efficient. And they'd all long given up serving governments, anyway.

Corporations paid better. And - Pat paused to look into the rearview mirror, remembering the smooth skin and long legs of the naked woman stuffed in the trunk - corporations were much more relaxed about rules of engagement.

"All good?", Nadler's voice sounded over the earpiece. They'd stayed behind, doing what they did best: Logistics. Nadler would make sure that bodyguard's body was dumped somewhere he'd found; the decoy's body somewhere she'd never be. They'd take care of the surveillance video to show just the right parts of her death in that white dress; they'd clean up, pay off a witness or two, plant evidence and spread liberal amounts of the target's stolen blood in that parking garage.

Beautiful, stubborn society girl Danielle Hammond would be declared dead, even before she'd fully realized what was coming for her.

And if they dropped her off at the facility as ordered, Pat and his comrades would be on the team that got to break her in. 'Preparation protocol', WRU called it. Sanitized term for some highly objectionable work. Undeniably hot though.

Pat couldn't be any less interested in fucking a meek and braindead pet. But the target of an acquisition mission, while they still processed, while they struggled, while they understood, what they were about to lose? It was the best wind-down he could imagine. And if they looked like Danielle Hammond did? Even better. Girl was his type for sure.

Yeah. Corporations were much better than governments.

With a content sigh, Pat leaned back in the driver's seat and checked the navigation system. Only a few klicks left to go. His gun was next to him on the passenger sheet, hidden under his jacket, two cars with his comrades following them as back-up. This mission wouldn't need either. Nobody had caught up on them. Alex had made sure the police were looking at all the wrong places.

Pat tapped his headset with one finger. "Yup. All good," he confirmed, allowing himself a wide smile. "Excellent, actually."

When Pat opened the trunk with a cheerful whistle on his lips, the target was barely conscious. He tossed his mask and gear onto the plastic tarp next to her, before he grabbed a fistful of her blond hair to pull her upright to her knees.

She yelped, bucked under his hold, giving him a lovely display of the way her lithe body could curve.

"We've arrived, sweetheart," he said. "WRU Preprocessing Facility C1. The last place you'll remember."

"I'm not -", she whimpered, with a stubborn edge to her voice, eyes still half closed "- not anyone's fucking sweetheart."

Pathetic. Adorable.

"Wrong," Pat playfully slapped her bloodied cheek with his free hand. She hissed at him, weakly lifted her bound hands to push him away. He just grabbed her hair faster instead, leaned in closer over her shape in the trunk, hisvoice dropping to a whisper. "You're going to be everyone's sweetheart. First mine. Then my team's. And then every single handler's this dirty facility has to offer."

"You… you can't." Her breathing was shallow. "I'm - My father is Stuart Hammond, he-"

"Wrong again," Pat said patiently, letting his hand run down the side of her body and explore her curves. "Ms Hammond is dead. You? You're a nameless, powerless, empty - however, very nicely shaped - body, with delusions of personhood. You're 002238. And you're free for the taking."

She winced, when his hand cupped her cute boob, thumb playing with her nipple. There was no way of her fighting him off, bound as she was, feeble from blood loss. He knew it. And she knew it, too. She didn't even try. Pat smirked, watching her nipple perk up in reaction to his attention.

Tears gathered in his target's dark honey eyes. "Please, no," she whispered. "No."

His hand in her hair settled on the back of her head, forced her face up towards him. "Yes." He pulled her in for a kiss.

She let him. To his own surprise, her lips parted for him, a soft invitation, and then she kissed him back, that sweet, naked body pressing closer into his.

Gosh, she felt fantastic.

"You can get so much more," she whispered against his mouth, her breath a soft tingle on his skin. "Take me out of here, I'll make you a rich man, I'll let you fuck me, I'll play along, give you the time of your life." Her eyes seemed darker than before, when she met his gaze, something like a challenge shining in them. "It's more fun when you don't have to share."

Pat thought about it for a hot second. Shoving her back down into the trunk, slamming the hood shut over her once more, speeding off, taking her with him for himself. To some beach, maybe, just the two of them, her on top of him, riding him in front of a cinematic sunset.

She was a millionaire in her own right, she'd be good for a decent ransom - and for a more than decent fuck.

"You are undeniably hot, Danielle" he said softly, raising a hand to brush away a speck of Mueller's blood on her cheek with his thumb. "But I'm afraid not hot enough to risk being the next guy having his brain spattered all over you."

She flinched in his arms, tried to pull away, disappointment and something almost like grief flaring up in her gaze. Pat didn't let her.

"Shhh." He gently wiped his bloody thumb over her trembling lip, admiring how well the red suited her. "Don't worry, 238. You'll make me rich and well fucked anyway." He pressed a kiss on her lips again.

This time, she didn't kiss back.

---

[Next]

Tag list: @whumplr-reader @there-will-always-be-blood @whimpers-and-whumpers @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606

#abduction cw #noncon cw #Angel the romantic

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