#Credence will be saved

[apicelladonna]

"I wasn't 'trauma dumping' I was just telling you my lore."

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore subtext exhibit 7

exhibit 1 | exhibit 2 | exhibit 3 | exhibit 4 | exhibit 5 | exhibit 6

[obscurebelief]

When I realize Aurie will and has done so much to give MACUSA a huge amount of paper work and breaches in secrecy because he's still pissed at them for trying to kill him, and the Ministry of Magic as well for trying to send some assassin to kill him to.

He isn't Grindelwald or Voldemort but he loves breaking the secrecy so much. And capturing him isn't exactly easy given people still consider him a dangerous Obscurial give or take if his Obscurus was removed or not. Oh and Tina and the group going mama/papa bear because they love Credence/Aurelius and while his breaches and paperwork are a nightmare, he isn't exactly killing or harming non-magic.

Using magic to cheat on non magic tests, using potions to help with colds isn't exactly something he can be wanted for. He is just a chaos gremlin that likes helping people and causing MACUSA and the Ministry of Magic pain in the most petty of ways.

[livingthedragonlife]

this is an extremely petty reason to do an analysis but i hate when people call laios a himbo, not only because it really reads as infantalization but also because it's just straight up not true.

the qualities of a himbo require you to be stupid, and that simply is not true in laios' case. for a simple example, he was able to recognize pretty much instantly that the living armors were moving in an abnormal way (coming right for them, instead of just attacking as they approach), and noticed when the Boss Armor (?) protected the shield instead of using it as a defense. he recognized the egg sac on the back, was able to exploit the instinct to protect it, and save the rest of the party with that knowledge right away.

laios is the one who's able to determine which illusions are the fakes, all by himself, with nothing but his knowledge of his party members and careful observation. laios figured out why the changeling spores act the way they do, based on nothing but observation and experience once again. laios is the one who talks marcille down from her dungeon lord rampage. laios is the one who, despite succumbing to the demon's influence himself, PLANNED FOR THAT TO HAPPEN, and gave himself a loophole that saved the entire fucking world. these are just the first things i can think of off the top of my head, if i really went back through the story, i'm positive there would be more examples of laios being knowledgeable and using that knowledge intelligently.

but let's back up. laios is called an idiot by many other characters in the story. why might that be?

well it's usually for: saying something socially inappropriate or blunt, talking about monsters (his special interest) too enthusiastically, not relating to the people around him, or not being able to understand social cues or read a room. he's even called "creepy" or "crazy" in multiple instances. when chilchuck first hears about how much laios wants to eat monsters, he calls him a psychopath. that's in the very first chapter.

the characters who call laios stupid and crazy are calling him that almost exclusively after he behaves "too autistically" around them. perhaps we are giving too much credence to the characters calling him a dumbass and should instead do some critical thinking to determine if it's true. because most of the time, they're wrong! go count the times laios is called stupid for having ideas that ultimately work.

that's not to say laios isn't funny! he's a silly guy! he straight up barks like a dog to solve problems. dungeon meshi is a comedy, so it would be kind of weird if he wasn't, but lack of intelligence is never the punchline. the fact that barking like a dog WORKS is what's funny, not that he was "stupid" to think of it in the first place.

laios is goofy. he makes silly mistakes. but that doesn't mean he's brainless. laios is not a himbo.

[feybeasts]

The thing that kills me is- history has shown us time and time and time again that people in positions of power who fuck up immensely like this then try to cover up, use half-truths and outright lies, and try to keep a lid on a growing scandal never

never

come out of it on top. Chernobyl, Watergate, the BP spill, these are more extreme examples, but even in the realms of social media, the likes of James Somerton show us that when one is caught in the act of doing something wrong- as our dear CEO has now- doubling down, justifying a shoddy decision based on the flimsiest pretext, no matter the scale of the original failing or crime, always makes it worse.

“the cover-up is worse than the crime” is a tired old phrase, but it bears water in every case I’ve ever studied as a history buff. The only way to save face is to turn 180, apologize honestly and profusely, and learn a lesson, take your well-deserved licks for what boils down to your failure.

Because here’s the thing. The more you dig in, the deeper you dig the hole you’re putting yourself in, and no matter the scale of the initial mistake, it gets harder and harder to climb out of that hole until you can only find solace and support in the crazies who nobody gives credence to as a matter of course, as so many techbros who think themselves gods of tolerance have, or it explodes in your face (figuratively, of course. Don’t call the FBI, that’s called a “comical exaggeration,” take note.)

It’s PR 101. Don’t argue out your fuck-up, show some goddamn humility before your actions humble you in a way that is many times more devastating to your reputation and bottom line.

[transmascissues]

let trans men&mascs romanticize testosterone.

keep your “you’re not going to look like an anime boy or whatever, you’re just going to look like your dad” to yourself.

keep your “but what about the balding and the acne and the anger problems and the gross hair everywhere and the horrible painful bottom growth and and and” to yourself.

keep your “once you look like a man you will scare people and you can never stop thinking about that” to yourself.

keep your “testosterone is poison and don’t you dare even suggest that saying that might hurt you” to yourself.

we are not obligated to take on your fears and traumas around testosterone as our own, nor are we obligated to let them influence our relationship with it.

we are not obligated to sit here in a world that heavily restricts and constantly threatens our access to it and listen silently as you contribute to stigma around it.

we’re already tired of watching cis society as a whole try to rip it away from us; we don’t need fellow trans people and supposed allies giving credence to their cause.

for many of us testosterone is life-saving medicine, it’s liquid gold, it’s the nectar and ambrosia of the fucking gods.

is it so hard to just let us have that? to let us believe that and say it and celebrate it without being given a million reasons to question it? is that really too much to ask?

if you can find it in your heart to let other trans people romanticize their transitions, i promise you can let us do it to.

testosterone is a beautiful thing. it makes people hotter and even more importantly it makes them happier and anyone who wants it should be able to have it because it’s so life-changing and magical and wonderful and incredibly important to so many people who deserve the happiness it offers.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The German ambassador in Tel Aviv has admitted that he spread fabricated Israeli atrocity propaganda intended to give credence to Israel’s debunked claims of mass rapes by Palestinian fighters on 7 October 2023.

“I regret having believed – like so many others – that that suicide letter was real. It turns out it was a fake,” Ambassador Steffen Seibert posted on X, formerly Twitter, on Thursday. “I find this an appalling act given that so many real lives were taken at the Nova festival, so many crimes committed, so many souls destroyed.”

Last week, Seibert shared a letter purporting to be from an Israeli who died by suicide because he was unable to live with the trauma he experienced at the Supernova rave on 7 October.

The fake letter was widely disseminated after it was shared by two notorious Israeli propagandists, Hen Mazzig, who translated it to English, and Aviva Klompas.

Mazzig had claimed that “After miraculously surviving the October 7 massacre, the young Israeli man decided to end his life after witnessing too many horrors, including the rape of a girl.”

“The overwhelming weight of everything he saw, heard and experienced, along with his inability to save the girl being assaulted nearby, made him feel incapable of continuing his life.”

Mazzig works for an Israeli propaganda outfit called the Tel Aviv Institute. Klompas, a former Israeli government speechwriter, is the CEO of another lobby group called Boundless Israel.

Both have been very active in pushing Israel’s debunked claims of mass rapes on 7 October.

[david-talks-sw]

How the narrative framed Mace Windu, back in 2002

So there's this 2002 book written by Marcus Hearn, edited by J.W. Rinzler, titled Attack of the Clones - The Illustrated Companion. It was released a month before Episode II was released.

AKA, before EU material and anti-Jedi fanon could publicly reframe the meanings of the film... and before more recent narratives could reinterpret the character of Mace as a robotic, protocol-worshipping stickler who never bends the rules (when evidence shows he's anything but).

So how does Marcus Hearn - "untainted" by all the above factors, armed only with the Prequel films and their screenplays - frame the character of Mace Windu?

MACE & ANAKIN

Fandom: "Mace hated Anakin from Day #1 and never trusted him. Mace was probably jealous as he always thought he was the Chosen One, not Anakin!"

Attack of the Clones' - The Illustrated Companion:

"Jedi Masters Yoda and Mace Windu lead the High Council in rejecting Qui-Gon's application to train Anakin, 'He is too old,' concludes Mace Windu. 'There is already too much anger in him.'

Hearn explains that the problem with Anakin wasn't that he was just too old, it's that because of that age he had become too filled with fear and anger to a point where taking on the Jedi training would be twice as hard for him as it already was for everyone else.

Hearn doesn't chastise Mace for this initial decision. On the contrary, he adds more context to it by using a line from the screenplay to explain where Mace is coming from.

He also goes further into Mace's view of Anakin throughout the book:

"[Mace] over-estimates Anakin Skywalker, paying little credence to Obi-Wan's protestations that the boy is too confused and disturbed to be dispatched on a solo mission."

"The Jedi Council is aware of Anakin's exceptional skills, and Mace Windu believes Anakin may fulfill the prophecy that says a being will one day bring balance to the Force. But Anakin still has a lot to learn…"

He's basically stating that Mace believes in Anakin, but that doing so is a mistake. Which, to be fair, considering how things turn out for Mace and the Jedi... is kinda true!

Mace's problem with Anakin is almost the opposite of what most of the fandom projects onto him.

It's not that he dislikes Anakin, on the contrary, he holds Anakin in too high of an esteem and is overlooking Anakin's glaring flaws because "hey, Anakin's the Chosen One. He's got this!"

That's not the only flaw Mace has, according to Hearn.

MACE'S (and the Jedi's) ONLY REAL FLAW

Fandom: "Mace and the Jedi had become too emotionally detached, they had lost touch with the common folk by spending too much time in their ivory tower. They focused so much on being selfless that they forgot how to care, they've become a bunch of elitist, righteous sticklers for protocol who care more about upholding laws than actually helping the people those laws are meant to protect!"

Attack of the Clones' - The Illustrated Companion:

"Although he is a senior member of the Jedi Council, little in Mace Windu's experience has prepared him for the looming threats of the dark side of the Force and Count Dooku's Separatists."

"Mace Windu's faith in the Jedi to protect the Republic is admirable, but it also blinds him to the true scale of the growing menace. He is aware that the dark side is growing, but still allows himself to be too easily reassured about the Separatists' ambitions. [...] Mace fatally misjudges Count Dooku, refusing to believe he could be behind any attempt on Senator Amidala's life. 'Dooku was once a ledi, he tells Padmé. 'He couldn't assassinate anyone. It's not in his character.'"

"Mace Windu's strengths are, in many ways, qualities shared by the Jedi Order as a whole - he is an accomplished diplomat and a fine swordsman. Such skills have served the Jedi well in their role as the galaxy's peacekeepers for a thousand generations. But such skills are not enough to save the Jedi from their own complacency, and the tumultuous changes that threaten to wipe them out forever."

Hearn perfectly grasps what the Jedi's only real flaw is, in George Lucas' intended narrative: they were unprepared, complacent, they were blind... and now they're stuck playing catch-up.

But when he's saying that, he's not blaming them for it. Because this flaw doesn't derive from some sense of elitism or superiority... it is an inevitable consequence of their qualities.

They've managed to stay out of politics as neutral diplomats... ... but that makes them vulnerable to the Sith's plot, which primarily takes place within the political arena, where they have no control or experience.

They are painfully aware of the corruption in the Senate... ... but as a result, they're too quick to trust the Separatist's talking points as well-meaning and genuine, instead of seeing the movement for what it really is: greedy big business trying to become the government.

They trust and agree with Dooku, believe in what he publicly stands for (after all this man used to be one of the wisest and kindest members of the Jedi Order, Mace's friend, Yoda's Padawan, etc)... ... but as such, they are blind to his true nature, that of a treacherous Sith who'd stoop to orchestrating assassinations.

The Jedi have their guard up, knowing that there's another Sith Lord still out there, orchestrating in the shadows... ... but they can't really find him, because the Dark Side has clouded everything, so only darksiders are able to sense the possibilities of the future! Them serving the good side is screwing them over, in this situation.

Flaws such as being too trusting or being unprepared, letting your guard down because you've established a 1000-year-peace, are flaws that kind, noble characters such as the Jedi are bound to have.

They may be flaws, but they aren't faults. And considering the way he describes Mace and the Jedi, it's clear Hearn grasps the nuance.

MACE'S RELUCTANCE TO JOIN THE WAR

Fandom: The Jedi joined the war out of arrogance, they thought they could swashbuckle their way through the problem and win, instead they didn't realize that they lost the very moment they joined.

Attack of the Clones' - The Illustrated Companion:

"Mace Windu believes in the Jedi as keepers of the peace - not as soldiers - but there comes a point when he reluctantly realizes that it is time to take affairs out of the realm of diplomacy."

Mace and the Jedi didn't want to start a war. If you read the script for Attack of the Clones, Mace and Bail keep grasping at straws to not engage with the Separatists up til the very end.

But when you consider that...

the Geonosians are about to execute Obi-Wan without a trial,

and the Separatists leaders have been unmasked as a coalition of unscrupulous corporate assholes who are willing to plunge the galaxy in chaos just to make more money.

... at some point, the Jedi have to come to terms with the fact that Separatist leadership (and Sidious) won't accept diplomacy because they want a conflict. A conflict will make them all richer. And the Republic, well, they're just dying to go to war too.

So the Jedi go save Obi-Wan and capture Dooku, hoping that in doing so, the conflict ends before it begins. They succeed in the former goal... but fail the latter one.

The Clone War has begun.

From there on, the Jedi are drafted to lead the war. Which is why - as Hearn points out - Mace was so reluctant to take action in the first place. The Jedi are ambassadors, they are not built for war... and now they've been forced into one.

Mace is by no means a perfect character... but he's someone doing his best. Just like Obi-Wan, just like Yoda, and all the other Jedi.

Overtime, Windu's character has been dumbed down to either "that one angry black man" or "the dogmatic emotionless dick who hated Anakin"... and I really think that that's not what we were meant to see him as.

The way Marcus Hearn (who also wrote The Cinema of George Lucas) refers to him is a much more charitable interpretation of how others (ahem Filoni ahem) do, nowadays.

[seat-safety-switch]

Some cars have a very loyal following. Mustangs, for example, are owned by people who really like Mustangs. You might not think that this kind of loyalty is unusual if you also own a Mustang. Consider the following: does Aunt Ethel get super frothy on the internet about her Hyundai Elantra?

You can find groups of folks for any car, thanks to the almighty oddball-collecting power of the internet. Only something special will produce the real perverts. Real perverts like my neighbour, who only drives Saturns. Hold on, my phone is ringing.

"Not just any Saturns," he wants me to add, because he has somehow sensed that I am talking about His Brand and wishes for me not to impugn his reputation with the Saturn fanboy squad, "only the real ones. No Ions."

In case you are unfamiliar, Saturn was a sub-brand created by GM to take the fight to the imports. Rather than make their existing cars better, they instead spent billions of dollars producing an entirely new series of cars that then competed with those cars. They were made out of beige plastic, had zingy four-banger engines, didn't immediately fall apart, and were therefore just different enough to give their owners a superiority complex. Uniqueness plus smugness: a winning combination for conspicuous consumption. If you own one Saturn, statistically you actually have seventeen. People got rid of their first Saturn, went back to the dealership, and bought an identical car when it was time to upgrade.

So what happened to Saturn? Well, they got boring. General Motors came back and demanded that they instead build the same car as everyone else, but with a different logo and fenders on it. Save costs by using all the same cheap-ass parts. Perhaps you are familiar with this technique from all the other cars that GM failed to defeat the import menace with. As soon as this happened, all the uniqueness came right out of the brand, and the frothing-at-the-mouth loyalists instead hoarded even more Golden Age econoboxes.

"Stop typing about the Ion so loudly," now barks Ted, who I think worked for the government at some point. He then went into a tirade about how it was actually the sub-prime housing crisis that destroyed Saturn, and how if only everyone would only use Saturns as currency, this could all have been avoided, but conveniently that model of economic theory would make Ted the Saturn Guy the new king of the world, so I hung up. I'd heard this theory presented many times on CNBC and I recommend you not give it any credence, either. Still, to be on the safe side, I think I should probably buy two or three SC2s.

[alltheothercoolnamesaretake-blog]

Why I think Till will be rescued before Round 7 (and why Ivan might survive)

Till WILL NOT compete against Luka. At this point, he's too weak of an opponent to even stand against him.

INSTEAD, Hyuna will be the one to compete against Luka. First of all, Hyuna and Luka are one of the main partnerships in Alien Stage. Sua and Mizi have already competed against each other, and now Ivan and Till.

Having Till compete against Luka has nothing inherently interesting in it. Luka with Mizi had ties together because of their longing for their respective partners-Hyuna and Sua. Luka was also established there to be extremely dangerous and manipulative, making him a genuine threat.

What would a Till and Luka matchup do, except be a miserable beat down that would end in Till's death?

At this point, Till has already lost all of his fire, and it's doubtful he'd be able to get it back. If the matchup happened, I feel like it would be too easy of a win for Luka.

HOWEVER, we can see that Hyuna and the gang are once again at Alien Stage. (or at least I think they are) Hyuna is already injured, and it seems like they've been found out. I think that Hyuna will tell the others to leave her behind and have Mizi lead the mission to save Till. This would be a great moment for Mizi's character arc, showing that she has fully come into her own.

Judging by the fact that there also seems to be time between each round (based on the Karaoke scene where Till is being forced to sing My Clematis), it lends more credence to the idea that they would want to do the rescue now instead of later even though Hyuna is hurt.

((This could allow for Ivan to possibly be rescued too, since it doesn't seem like he was hit anywhere vital. All the gunshots are mostly at his back. It's the future, there's probably good medicine))

Also, Round 7 is the final round of the entire show. What other chance would there be for a Hyuna and Luka matchup?

I think that in the next video, we will see the rescue scene play out and in the end see Hyuna's picture replacing Till on the scoreboard. They are forced to leave her behind, and Hyuna will finally be able to confront Luka over what he did.

Edit:

NOT ONLY THAT, WE CAN ALSO SEE HER IN WHAT IS MEANT TO BE THE TRAILER FOR ALIEN STAGE!!!

She’s handcuffed and in some sort of alien compound. Her clothes also look very similar to what she’s wearing in Round 6.

Some of the most damming evidence is that we also see a shot of her in a special performing outfit holding a microphone! She’s also right next to Luka, showing how she will be his opponent.

Ultimately, she’s the best opponent because Luka will be unwilling to hurt her. It’s also a great way to further explore their shared backstories as well.

Can’t wait for Round 7!!!

[ewingstan]

Going into Ward, one of the things that interested me is that pretty much everyone who read it, no matter what the felt about it as a whole, seemed to like what it did with Tattletale and incorporate it into their understanding of the character. To a certain extent this makes sense, outside of Amy people's problems with Worm usually aren't that characterization had been changed. But few other aspects of Ward have been talked about with so much relative positivity, or influenced so much retroactive analysis of Worm.

After reading her interlude, I'm starting to understand why.

From the bat we're given blunt and effective portrayals of how alone Lisa feels. Half of her descriptions of other characters focused on how they reminded her of people she's lost. The Heartbroken are primarily described by the ways they do and don't resemble Alec. Aiden by how he does and doesn't resemble Taylor. Imp and Rachel get mentioned but don't get to make an appearance at all, furthering the effect—reminders of her closest connections are everywhere, but the connections themselves are nowhere. She's left with the "expanded Undersiders," and is painfully aware of how they either dislike her or will never form a close connection with her.

There's a lot more emphasis here on how her power is a separate entity than there was in Lisa's Worm interlude. She's snarking at it, talking about it as something that interjects, drawing a clear divide in her head between what it figures out and what she figures out. Is that her knowledge of its nature developing, or simply a new way of looking at how it always worked?

The framing in the passage above seems to suggest that its encouraging her to distance herself from others, pushing her to interact but specifically feeding her information that will prevent close connections. Questions of agency and identity aside, I do like this as an aspect of powers-as-coping-mechanisms: she was triggered by failing to save someone she was close to, not recognizing the signs that he was unwell. Her power helps her see the signs she couldn't before, but it also seems to try to prevent those close connections from forming so she can't be hurt the same way. Not that its successful. Can't stop betting on losing dogs and all.

What she calls people internally is interesting. I figured she had been calling Sveta "Garotte" earlier to needle her, but she continues to call her that in her own thoughts, as does her power. Valkyrie gets to be "Valkyrie," and Vicky isn't called a cape name at all. There's a few ways to interpret this; I'm tempted to say that Lisa sees Victoria as a relic of pre-Gold Morning days, and sees Sveta largely in that context. Though I also feel like there's some refusal to see her or Rain as people who are separate from what they've done in the past. A lot of the comments I've read while reading the last few chapters are people debating whether she should've gone "white-hat," and I get the sense that she sees something dishonest in that. Leaving behind the things you've done isn't something she can do—even Lisa Wilbourn can't leave behind the failures of Sarah Livsey.

That might be something to think about in the context of Victoria claiming Tattletale is awful because she represents "giving up on something better." Its kind of baffling in that context; many people have pointed out that cutting the number of overdoses in half was way better than anything the heroes ever did, but Victoria resents that TT saw merely halving it as acceptable. She prefers methods that highlight a certain attitude towards a problem over methods that are effective at dealing with a problem. Having zero tolerance for overdoses and being able to do fuck-all about it becomes preferable to halving it, because not giving up on an ideal world is better than actually making the world better. As little regard as I have for Victoria's position, it seems that the text is giving it some credence by positioning Lisa not just as pursuing the methods that will make an actual difference, but also as rejecting the idea of "something better." Sveta can't be more than Garotte, overdose rates can be halved but not lowered further. Its weirdly reifying of Victoria's position, making Lisa a foil to it rather than a reflection of an entirely unrelated worldview.

There's a few team leaders in the parahumans-verse who get characterized as encouraging and benefiting from chaos within their ranks. Jack Slash had a self-image of himself as a master manipulator who knew just how to keep the Nine at each others throats to keep them in line, though of course his power was pulling heavy duty there. Trickster exulted in sowing chaos, but while he could use it to his advantage when working alone it explicitly got in the way of the Travellers as a whole during their operations. Lisa incorporates aspects of both; she seems to be cultivating a "this chaos is all part of my design" air for Faultline and Victoria while actually always being on the cusp of losing control of her own team. It seems less like something she's doing deliberately and more like something she has to deal with, even if she later frames it as part of preparing Aiden or something similar.

Man, her relationship with Aiden. First explicit mention of Taylor we've had since the beginning and its for a blunt confirmation that she sees herself as failing Taylor in the same way she failed Rex, and is terrified of doing with Aiden. It feels both like she's holding him at arms length and that she's desperate for a close connection with him.

[sunflowersunite]

Fantastic Beasts rewrite

I recently finished rewatching the third movie and I really really want to rant, but I don't like to be that person. So I'll do you one better, I'll just throw suggestions as to how this series could have been better. feel free to disagree or add your own.

Plot!

Magical animals still have many uses within the magical world, but no rights because we're in the 1920's. Show us how they're trafficked and exploited. Therefore, Newt could keep the spotlight as someone who wants to protect them as the series continues, and not have Dumbledore be protagonist, because he doesn't make for a compelling one all that much.

We already saw how the Quilin detects those who are pure of heart and determines the leader of the magical world. How about the Quilins are disposed of afterwards, for, I don't know, reasons. Superstition or custom. Maybe they make a new pelt for the leader. So Newt has to fight against that, and therefore he becomes more proactive.

Also the blood troth needs to be broken. That should have taken longer. How about only a specific very rare dragon's fire could burn it?? and therefore we use more of Newt's knowledge here??

2. Personal stakes. Unfortunately, there was no conflict between the heroes and the villains. Meaning, if Grindelwald did succeed in conquering the muggle world, none of the MCs would be personally affected. (not even Jacob, he could hide somewhere and he'd be fine, it's not like Grindelwald would look for him specifically). So, here's the deal:

because this is a fantastic beasts series, Newt remains the protagonist. So how about Grindelwald targets a specific magical creature, eg the aforementioned dragon, who is believed to not even be real? But Grindelwald has info that it is in fact real. Therefore he targets Newt, the only magizoologist, and the only one capable and determined enough to find it. He plans on striking Newt with all means necessary, have him running for his life from all governments. Framing him and targeting his animals just to get what he wants.

Also. Grindelwald wants Credence by his side, because of his Obscurial powers (which were hyped up in the first movie but then kinda deflated, unfortunately). It's easy to manipulate Credence, who's never had anyone care for him ever.

except Tina. Tina is canonically the one who Credence felt trust for. They could've become found family and I'll forever be angry about their wasted potential.

How about Grindelwald is aware that Tina is the one who could foil his plans and keep Credence on the good side due to their relationship, so he targets her specifically? He wants her out of the picture in order to manipulate Credence as much as he wants. He wants to kill her.

Tina fights him to save Credence and Newt fights him to save Credence and the animals.

Here! Grindelwald now has personal conflict with the main characters.

More conflict? Sure!

At the end of the third installment, instead of picking Dumbledore the Quilin picks Jacob, who is said throughout the whole movie to be pure of heart. (Let's say its powers work a little differently and it doesn't care whether it's a muggle it's picking because who ever tested it on muggles in the first place anyway?) How about it picks him, and as Grindelwald hates muggles, he now hates Jacob with a searing passion because the Quilin picked him as a ruler of the wizards? (exactly what he's against, mixing wizards and muggles). How about Grindelwald harbours animosity towards Jacob, not because he's a threat but because he symbolises what could beat Grindelwald? (a kind heart, one that both a wizard and a muggle could possess. and due to that common potential for goodness, which highlights that they aren't so different than the muggles, he gets even more passionate in his goal to eradicate them? just saying)

and let's have Queenie move to Grindelwald's side, that's interesting. Maybe they strike a deal when Tina is in grave danger (because as we said, Tina must die for Grindelwald to win). If Queenie joins him, Tina is safe, Grindelwald tells her (he's lying, but Queenie is desperate).

So Queenie has to choose between being with the man she loves and joining the wrong side of history (and possibly dying a monster), but saving her sister in the process.

She chooses the second.

the angst?? Queenie knowing she's doing the wrong thing but it's for the right reasons so now no one can convince her to return to the good side?? Not Tina, not Jacob, not anyone

Maybe she even becomes a spy, leaking Grindelwald's plans and putting herself in danger in the process.

And she tries to convince Credence to go back to the good side even if it's too late for her.

3. For the secondary characters:

Theseus still has power within the British Auror Office. He wants to use that power and counterattack, but for entirely selfish reasons. He hates Grindelwald for Leta's death and puts his own emotions before sensibility and the greater good.

Yusuf was never close with Leta and now he regrets it. He and Theseus both learn to heal together eventually, and Kama gets character development in the process because he felt rather flat.

I want Lally to be there too because I liked her. Maybe Theseus starts to catch feelings for her (am I delusional or did I sense some connection between them? idk) and he feels guilty, because he doesn't want to heal and move on from Leta. He wants to fuel his hatred for Grindelwald because he believes that that is what gives him the will and strength to fight. But eventually he realises that he won't beat him with hate, because Grindelwald is already perfect at hating others. He will beat him with love. (Cheesy but true). Any love. Between the brothers Scamander or the sisters Goldstein or the found family Tina - Credence or Newtina because I love them.

But Lally can do whatever she wants.

Honestly, that sounds pretty rad. I'd watch that movie.

[lukola92]

Can we all please admit that this whole "friend" group is toxic? With that being said I've seen so many comments questioning L and why he still with A if he's unhappy. Guys first l let's discuss A. She not only got in with his friend group but also with his family. And she made herself known to the world. So let's say if he said he wants to end things after the pap walk. The narrative would have been bad for him they would have turned it around on him that he was using this young girl etc. Also we know that R has been around L forever who knows what type of advice he's given to L. I'm sure he's been trying to save that relationship why because it makes it easier on him(R). Also it's really hard for people to see the nasty things our friends do. We turn blind eyes on them why because we could never assume someone we love can do anything nasty. That includes A as well. Why would he assume his GF is doing nasty shit behind his back. That's just not a thought you have. No one wants to find out those people you tell your darkest secrets to have been stabbing in the back. And I personally feel like it's more then just A that's doing him dirty. So while into am mad at L for his dumb decisions I understand what L is going through. His life will change.

I saw in NY how L's mother behaved with A, she didn't take her into consideration like her son, the only one who gave her credence was L's sister, because in my opinion she's the one who agreed to have her go to NY to ambush L, who in my opinion wanted to end all relationships even before the end of the tour, and for this L got angry.. speaking of the group of friends, the toxic one is R, we know, but for me L after the Italian vacation totally realized how awful he is, and he must have gotten angry, R's silence speaks volumes.. L found himself in a mess that was difficult to manage and for me psychologically he's still not well, he's not to blame.. the only one who really helps him is N

[soscarlett1twas]

A Twin's Anger

I've been thinking about Twin Marston lately

I don't think "Twin" ever hated Andrew. Or, at least, not to the extent he did his parents. Because for how terrible the dismissals were, the neglect he faced for the sake of Andrew, Twin doesn't seem the kind to have hated him solely for that. After all, with how Andrew talks about them, they seemed like best friends in their younger years. Playing video games, sneaking out, etc. Was he jealous? Absolutely. Hatred? Eh..

Then Isaac and Darling happened.

Canonically, Twin didn't (at the time) know about Andrew and Isaac's relationship (see here) and there's no way to tell if he saw the video/knows about Andrew's current relationship, but this entire post is in the realm of speculation so let me indulge.

Because if he did know about both relationships? Oh god.

Isaac's the difficult one. It lends credence to both forgiving and despising Andrew. On one hand, it's rational to think that maybe Andrew didn't speak up because he was in a similar situation to Twin (that is, being queer). But, from another perspective, Andrew also being queer gives more reason to help his brother - what's being a golden child worth if it's spent at the expense of a man scorned from your shared vice?

That’s where the disdain begins. For Andrew to silently choose their abusive parents before him, despite also being queer, it solidifies Andrew’s indecisiveness. Or perhaps he thinks he’s better than Twin. That even if he’s into men, that can be forgiven because he’s him.

Either way he feels, Andrew is a hypocrite. And Twin leaves. And they’re both left to deal with the fallout, each emotionally constipated.

Years pass. Twin’s only exposure to Andrew is the occasional call or text. Voicemails left unheard. And then the scandal happens.

News is plastered everywhere on his phone, curated from the years he googled Andrew’s name in midnight depressive spirals: Professor caught… professor groomed… there’s even more headlines. A video. Two videos. Thrown drinks. And him, the disgraced professor, defending the relationship.

And Twin is reminded of when he didn’t.

In defending someone he had barely known (because Andrew and Darling really didn’t know each other, they lusted after each other) Andrew showed that he was willing. He was able. Just not for his brother. Because what does it say about Andrew, who was willing to defend a near-stranger in some selfish desire to keep his relationship and wasn't for the man whom he shared a womb with?

Andrew had given up everything for Darling, we know this: But to Twin? Beyond the obvious, Andrew essentially threw away every year, the decade of abuse he suffered because of Andrew's "intelligence" for the sake of lust. And he was allowed to stay working at the university! Twin's love, the kind that got him thrown out and a reason he was discarded, was probably painted as just lust, not real love. But where he was so severely punished, Andrew didn't even loose his job — he made the choice to leave.

And if Andrew has a male listener? Then all this would be amplified ten fold. Golden-child Andrew is in a very public relationship with a man, defending them in some vain attempt to justify it! And they go out to museums together, they eat at nice restaurants, they get to be happy together. And Andrew is happier than he’s seemed in so long, because Twin knows his brother’s joy, and it sure as shit wasn’t there when he was alone and isolated as the young, prodigy professor. Andrew has turned Twin's eternal sin into his saving grace.

Could you imagine the anger? The bitterness? The feeling of watching the man you once called a ‘brother’ further drive the knife in your back?

That’s where the anger comes from. Not the original offense, but everything that came after. The ricochet of it all. If Twin wasn't coming back before, he certainly isn't now.

I guess the beauty of it all is how many parallels there are. A Marston is in a forbidden relationship, which is only forbidden due to the direct surrounding environment as outside of it there's really nothing wrong, and is found out by the very creators of said environment. They defend themselves, but upon lacking support from those he thought he could count on (Andrew or, in his case, the faculty) he leaves the situation completely and gives up on a huge factor of his life.

Crazy.

(Of course, this post doesn't take into account Andrew and Darling's POV, because Twin doesn't have that. We know that they argued and broke up, but he doesn't, and I really wanted to explore just how he may feel about all of this without further context.)

(Please somebody talk to me about Twin Marston I'm dying over here. Severe droughts in content for him I'm STARVING)

[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 10

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: ANGSTTT. Descriptions of blood and wounds. Brief (very brief) mentions of SA (not described).

Author’s Note: Another ✨Woops✨make sure you read PART 9 first!!

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Dagger

Her arrival on Senex was not one of celebration. 

Perhaps for her people it was; they were so excited for her to return to them. It seemed that her mother had put out word that she was taken by Din, and that she was saved by Silas and Calisto from an uncertain future. If only they knew the truth; if only they knew what Calisto had done to their Senator, to their princess.

No, her arrival on Senex was not one to celebrate. 

When the doors of her home slammed shut, Calisto pushed her towards her childhood bedroom. Two guards –storm troopers, dawned in their white suits and helmets, with blasters in hand –were posted outside her door. It was an easy thing to avoid; troopers were notoriously bad shots and she had snuck past them before. 

However, she wouldn’t be so lucky again.

“This time,” Calisto hissed, grabbing her daughter’s arm and yanking it forward. “You will not get nearly as far as you did.”

Her lady-in-waiting, Isowen, stepped forward with a tray. The young woman looked sick to her stomach, distraught as she removed the covering. A scalpel and bacta spray sat waiting, with a chip that flashed intermittently. Her eyes widened as she realized what her mother was about to do, and with everything in her, she tried to fight back and drag herself away.

“No, no, no,” she begged, but Calisto didn’t loosen her grip. “Mother, please. Don’t. I’m begging, please. Please, please!”

“You should have thought about the consequences of your actions,” Calisto snapped, calling the guards in. They pinned her down, holding her arm down as Calisto lifted the scalpel. “The less you fight, the less it will hurt. Hold still.”

She started crying, screaming out as the knife sliced into the skin of her forearm. The guards held her down harder, no doubt bruising her shoulders as they pressed their armor clad knees into her. The knife was not the worst part –the chip, which was then literally pushed into her wound, was jagged and sharp. Her body shook from sobs, begging her mother to release her, to stop, to let her go. But Calisto ignored her as she sprayed the open wound with the bacta. 

Isowen handed Calisto bandages, offering to finish the stitches with a soft, shaking voice. Calisto, with her daughter’s blood on her hands, stood and snatched the towel. There wasn’t a response; just a wave of her hand and a release of the guards. Calisto and the guards exited without a word, leaving her sobbing on her bed –blankets stained with blood, the wound on her arm slowly being stitched together by the Twi’lek beside her. 

“Milady,” Isowen whispered, trying to sooth the sobs coming from her mouth. “I am sorry, I did not want to. But your mother –Lord Credence –,”

She just shook her head, eyes screwed tight as tears fell. She didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want to hear excuses. She just wanted this to end. Nothing could fix what her mother had done, and now she was trapped in that Maker-forsaken house with guards at her doors. Even if Din managed to save her, there would be nothing that could stop her mother from finding her again. Not with a tracking device literally embedded in her arm.

“All will be well,” Isowen promised, finishing off the stitches with wrapping her arm in a bandage. She ran a soft, blue hand over her hair. “I know why you ran away, milady. I know you were not taken by the Mandalorian.”

“Pl-please leave,” she whispered, voice broken as she curled into herself on the bed. Her eyes were stuck on the blood that stained her sheets, heart threatening to burst from her chest. 

Isowen hesitated before standing, giving her one more pitying look before she slipped out of the bedroom. She thought of Din, and Grogu. Thought back to that night in the hut, with her gown and tiara. Where Din wrapped his arms around her and swayed to invisible music, whispering words in a language she didn’t understand. How he rested his forehead against hers, explaining what the touch meant to his people and why he did it so often. When Grogu returned to the house, tugging at her skirts to be picked up and cooing at her with his wide eyes and smile. 

It all felt so far away suddenly. Like a dream that she could not reach anymore. 

No, her arrival in Senex was far from a celebration. 

*****

The days that followed were a blur. The gowns she wore were long sleeved, covering the scar that had been left behind. People –members of the court, members of the Senate, friends of hers –were in and out of the home. They greeted her, they spoke at her but not to her. Congratulations were given, half meaningful and half just because it was expected. If they asked her questions, they didn’t truly want an answer. They just wanted her to nod and smile. She hardly did that, though her mother would prod at her when she didn’t. Sharp nails would dig into her spine, a silent reminder to behave herself. 

A party was planned to celebrate her engagement to Silas, and her mother warned her that he would make his formal declaration at the party at the end of the week.

“You will say yes. And you will pretend that you are happy,” Calisto warned, pointing a dinner knife at her. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Good,” Calisto concluded, lifting her drink to her lips now. “I have invited Princess Leia and her husband as well. They have a child –you can play with it; I’m sure that will make you feel better.”

She glanced up at her mother, giving her a wary look before excusing herself from the meal. Calisto did not question this, simply returning to her meal without a word. It. The child was it, not him. Not her. Truly, her mother was a cold, unloving person deep down. She always knew that. But stars above, she never thought she was so heartless.

Isowen tried to speak to her as she moved through the empty halls, but she still couldn’t bring herself to interact. The lady-in-waiting mentioned a dress and her circlet, but couldn't find the latter. 

“It doesn’t belong to me,” she said simply, opening her bedroom door. “It never did.”

“Milady –,”

She shut the door, pressing her forehead against it and closed her eyes. If she tried hard enough, she could picture it was Din’s forehead pressed back, promising it would be okay.

*****

It wasn’t difficult to get through the Senex atmosphere without detection. The Crest was old enough, easily forgotten because it was undetectable. It was getting through the capital city that would be the more challenging part. It was infested with storm troopers, carrying their blasters as if they had any sense on how to use them. But he slipped through without detection, keeping close to the shadows.

Finding the palace wasn’t hard either –it was the largest building in the city, ornate and a bit overdone. It was determining which room was hers that gave him the hardest time. With the scanner within his helmet, he shot himself into the air with his pack, scanning each room until he settled on a room that felt like it would be hers, though it was empty. Landing on the balcony, he broke the latch on the doors and pushed them open, slipping into the room without a word.

It was definitely her room. While dark, it showed clear signs of being lived in with an unmade bed and a stack of books on the nightstand. His steps were careful, light, as he made his way into the room further. He glanced at the bedroom door, scanning through to pick up on the guards that waited outside. When he turned his attention back to her room, his eyes caught a glimpse of an imperfection against the otherwise tidy space.

It was close to her bed, and when he stepped over to it –he could see the stain of blood on her sheets as well.

His breathing turned ragged, trying to control himself. There was no way he could take on every guard in this palace if he stormed out now. But Maker help whoever did this to her –they would not make it out alive. Din needed out of the room; needed away from the space and slipped out the door to the balcony once again.

After a while of peering into her bedroom, light flooded the room momentarily and there she stood, head pressed against the door. Her dress was a dark red, loose on her frame with sleeves that went past her fingertips. From behind, he could see she was trying not to cry.

“I think I preferred the green dress,” he whispered, announcing his presence as he stepped back into the room. She whipped around, back against the door, and stared at him with watery eyes.

“Din,” she breathed, tears falling as she crossed the room in two long strides to throw her arms around his middle. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him with his hand on the back of her head. Her entire body shook from the sobs that overcame her. “I’m sorry, I —,”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted, pulling back to look at her properly. “The ship is waiting, we can go —,”

“No, I-I can’t.” 

He froze, staring down at her. He didn’t understand –she couldn’t go with him? He had come to save her, he had risked –

But she continued, shaking her head. “I mean, I can’t. I can’t leave the palace, Din.”

She held her out her arm, tugging open the button that held her sleeve. Once it loosened, she slid it carefully over the bandages, trying to keep it from getting caught. His heart pounded in his ears, and he knew now where the blood on her floor and bed came from.

“My mother, she…my first night home —there’s a chip,” she explained, hands trembling now as Din took her arm cautiously in his hands. “If I step foot anywhere she doesn’t seem appropriate, it shocks me and notifies her.”

He unwrapped the bandage, noting it needed to be changed more than anything to avoid infection, and examined the scar that now took up the length of her arm. The skin was healing, luckily, but the bacta spray had not been reapplied, suggesting that whoever did the shoddy job of stitching her up was inexperienced.

“I’m going to kill her,” he whispered. It shouldn’t have been audible, but his modulator picked it up and he felt her tense. 

“Din, you can’t be here –Grogu, Sorgan –,”

“Will be safe,” he promised, looking back at her finally. Her eyes –wide and shimmering with tears still –bore into his and he wanted to steal her away from this forsaken place. But with the chip implanted in her arm, he had to come up with another plan of attack. 

Din guided her to the bed, sitting her down. He kneeled in front of her as he reached for the med kit that sat on her floor, having been left there from when she last changed her bandages. While there was no bacta spray, there were clean wraps and disinfectant cloths, so he settled on simply covering what was there for the time being. She winced as he pulled the old bandages off entirely, setting them to the side. Her good hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing the exposed part of his flight suit as he worked the tender flesh. He wrapped the bandages around her arm again, pulling them tight to protect the wound. 

For a moment, he hesitated. Then slowly, he lifted the bottom of his helmet over his chin and pressed his lips to the bandages. Her hand on his shoulder tightened, surprised by the touch. When he glanced up, her eyes were closed tight —trying to ensure she saw nothing.

“I’m sorry, cyar'ika,” he whispered, lowering his helmet once more before looking up at her through his visor. “Has Credence touched you?”

She shook her head, reaching out to touch the cheek of his helmet. “No, I…I’ve avoided him. But the wedding –,”

“Won’t happen,” Din stated harshly, reaching behind him to pull a sheath from his belt. He held the weapon out to her. When they were on Sorgan, he had considered what it meant to present the blaster to her, if she knew the importance. But the blaster was nothing compared to the dagger that rested in his hands. When he unsheathed it, the plated gold caught the lights of the city and her brow furrowed as she reached for it. It bore the mudhorn signet that he wore on his armor, etched into the blade. 

“Din…,” she whispered, holding the weapon in the palm of her hand cautiously. “Are you…the stories…are they true?”

“Yes.” He nodded once, wrapping his hand around hers to hold the dagger together.

“You’re…you’re asking me to marry you?” Her voice was laced in disbelief, as if she couldn’t understand what was happening.

“Only if you’ll have me,” he murmured, squeezing her hand tight around the dagger. “It’s not an elaborate experience. We exchange vows and that would be it –we can do it now –we’d be married. Then Credence won’t be able –,”

She looked up at him, mouth opening to say something, then she shook her head. “Din…” Then she pulled her hand from his. “I can’t marry you; not like this.”

He thought he stopped breathing. It was like his world had suddenly crashed down around him, and he held the dagger in his hand limply. But she reached forward, both hands resting on the chin of his helmet as she made him look at her.

“Do you love me, Din Djarin?” She asked, searching for any sign of expression behind his visor.

“I do,” he promised, staring up at her. More than anything, he wanted to rip the helmet off so she could see his face. So he could kiss her, and show her how much he truly loved her. “I love you.”

“Then you don’t want to marry me like this,” she concluded, tears in her eyes as she leaned in to press her forehead against his. “You want to marry me when your child can be here to become our child. When your hand is not being forced by my mother, but by your heart.”

“I –,”

“Din, please,” she begged, closing her eyes as the tears finally fell over her cheeks. “I want to marry you. But I want to marry you on my own terms, not anyone else’s.”

He stared at her for a long time before he removed his gloves, tossing them to the side, so he could wipe her tears away. His other hand lifted the dagger once more, wrapping their hands around the hilt once again. 

“Then we won’t get married today,” he whispered, squeezing her hand tight around the handle of the blade. “But this dagger is yours; made from a piece of your life into a piece of mine. If you accept it, then you’re accepting that I will marry you the moment I can.”

“Of course I accept it, Din.”

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dancealongthelightofday @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

[quizzyisdone]

The Colour Red (Pt. II) | Jason Hudson x Fem! Bell x Russell Adler

Chapter Title: Bad Moon Risin' Word Count: 3.7k Pairing: Jason Hudson x Fem! Bell x Russell Adler Masterlist Synopsis: Bell and Adler arrive at the safehouse in West Germany, where she meets the rest of her team, save Alex Mason and Frank Woods. The team gets down to business -- they've all gathered to take down the elusive Perseus, the infamous soviet agent whom they know next to nothing about, save for that he's planning something big. That much, Adler is sure of. To figure out their next move, Adler and Park use a memory recollection technique to help Bell recall Operation: Fracture Jaw, yet another memory Bell had lost due to her head injury two months prior. A/N: Hey! I'm back, totally not inspired by the new Black Ops VI trailer at all. Like, at all. Anyways, here is the next installment of my personal favorite series, The Colour Red. Keep in mind this is a slowburn fic, and sorry about the lack of Hudson in this chapter. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Strong language, mentions of weapons, canon-typical violence.

**Title inspired by "Bad Moon Risin'" by Credence Clearwater Revival

[Part One] [Part Two]

You don't need to read part one to understand this chapter, btw

The car halted to a full stop as Bell fluttered open her eyes, Adler lightly shook her shoulder, stirring her even further awake. 

“Bell. Welcome to West Berlin” He gave a half-hearted smile, a cigarette between his teeth. Bell groggily roused herself from the passenger seat, watching Adler closely as he held the lighter close to his face, letting a puff of smoke blow back in the wind behind him.

The light from the flame illuminated the scarred half of his face, and she could see that where he had shaven was uneven and choppy, a stark contrast to the close shave on the “normal” side of his face. Still rather handsome, barring his scars. He had a classically attractive, well structured face, resembling that of movie stars such as Robert Redford. Blonde hair, blue eyes and very charismatic. He must have many women wrapped around his finger back in the states, Bell presumed.

Adler took one last glance at her, then began to approach a woman that was leaning against an old, worn garage door. Bell took in her features as well. 

She had an uncanny familiarity about her. She had silky, jet black hair cut and styled into a practical bob, unusually tall but athletically built, and she sported pragmatic yet stylish clothing. She had delicate, feminine features but still yet appeared to be able to keep up with the likes of a black ops legend such as Adler -- a strange dichotomy between graceful and deadly. 

Adler had told Bell that she was a legend in her own rite at MI6, that’s why he had requested her for the op. Apparently, it was true that while she was known for her lethality and pretty appearance, it was her brain, not the obvious honey trap she is, that he was interested in. Adler had joked several times that she was a walking cliche, a classic femme fatale type.  

The more Bell seemed to take in her appearance, her shattered memory would begin to piece itself together again. Her face. A red door. A jungle. Sterile white lights. Televisions. War footage. Then nothing. Whenever she was on the precipice of piecing her memory back together, it seemed it would shatter again.

Adler glanced back. “You comin’?” He said with a slight frown. Sheepishly, Bell nodded, not having realized she spent too much time what would appear to the others as staring into space for no apparent reason. 

Bell hurried to catch up with him, trailing behind Adler closely even as the oddly familiar, yet bitter scent of tobacco filled her nose. That closeness, she wondered, it may be obvious to Adler, which she could live with, but would it escape the notice of the others? She hated that, her clinginess to him, but it made some sense (at least that is how Bell would justify it) -- Adler was the only kind face she could remember after her fall. 

Although she didn’t want to admit it, she preferred to be close to him at all times. His presence was comforting, the anxiety she felt would fade away in an instant -- she could almost forget that she couldn’t remember. One might mistake the connection for romantic, as Hudson, their handler had pointed out rather astutely (and irritably) before they departed from Langley today.

 Bell couldn't help but notice the parallels either, he very much played the part of her knight in shining armor, saving her from sure death, never having left her side while she healed, gently guiding her as she navigated regaining her lost memory. Although she must admit she has lingered on such an idea, Bell recognized Adler very likely felt no such way towards her.

She knew his feelings towards her. They had been through hell and back together, saved each other's ass, and understood each other like no one else. Bell knew where she stood, something more than a friend but less than a lover. It was a strange, blurry purgatory between platonic affection and passionate love.  

He had helped her remember the basics. With his guidance, she now knew that her name was Anabelle Meyers, hence the name “Bell”. She was a cryptographer and a linguist working for MI6, she had spent the better part of a year in Vietnam with Adler when she began working a joint operation with MACV-SOG and MI6 and they’ve been friends for 13 years. Two months ago, on a solo operation, she had taken a long, hard fall, hitting her head. Bell would've died if Adler hadn't been there by random chance. Bell could recall that in perfect detail now, although it was fuzzy just a week ago. 

“Park.” He acknowledged and nodded towards her. He glanced back, noticing how Bell followed so closely behind him and smiled to himself. It gave him some kind of pride that she leaned on him as a protector of sorts. 

“She looks familiar.” Bell whispered as soon as they were out of earshot of Park. 

Adler stopped in his tracks for naught but a second, “Maybe you saw her at the Century House in London back in the day.” She knew that it wasn’t likely they had never been acquainted, nor ever having even met each other, but Bell let the conversation go -- chalking it up as some kind of weird deja vu nonsense. 

When the door opened it revealed a large warehouse-like room with a table set in the middle, a bulletin board with the face of man that was supposedly Perseus and a giant red circle around it (Bell quickly noticed how the picture gave her an uneasy pit in her stomach and her head would begin to hurt), an array of weapons upon a wall guarded by chain link fence with a lock, and all the other stereotypical features befitting a CIA safehouse. 

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Adler whispered to Bell as he approached the gathering of folks around the table set in the middle. “Bell, this is Helen Park, Lawrence Sims who you’ve already met, and Eleazar Azoulay. We just call him Lazar, though.” He introduced her to them.

Lazar gave her a friendly but quiet hello, Park nodded, and Sims simply stared daggers at her before turning his gaze back to Adler. “Mason and Woods are finishing some business in Kiev, but you’ll meet them later.”

“Do I know them?” Bell asked meekly and Park cocked an eyebrow, smirking to herself as she glanced at Adler, silently beckoning him to answer the question. 

“Ah,” Adler chuckled lightly. “No, you know them by reputation, but not, ah, personally.” Bell nodded in response before letting him continue. He turned back to the rest of the group, while Bell stood snug behind Adler. “There’s been a surge in Russian chatter for the past 48 hours. The CIA and DoD are tapping their inside sources for anything substantial, but no leads of Perseus so far.”

“MI6 has come up empty handed as well.” Park added.

“We’ll have to start somewhere, so we’re going back to 1968, Vietnam.” He strode towards to the bulletin board, pointing at a polaroid picture of Sims and Adler sitting side by side, labeled Operation Fracture Jaw. “One our closest encounters with Perseus. Bell, you don’t remember this, of course, but you were there.”

“Fracture Jaw, what a steaming pile of shit that one was.” Sims grumbled.

“Also the first time where Perseus pinged our radar. While you were on the ground, you dug up some intel on him.” Adler continued, he held a folder with a dried, bloody handprint and Cyrillic printed on the front. “We’re gonna help jog your memory so you can crack this. At the time, the CIA’s best analysts couldn’t decode that thing, but we’re gonna have you take a shot.” Adler placed his hand on Bell’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“Yeah.” Sims scoffed. “If even Weaver couldn’t crack it, what makes you think she can?” He had said it with such venom, such doubt that it made Bell wonder what had happened between them. She made a mental note to ask Adler about it later, but for the moment, she hardened her gaze, attempting to make herself seem less vulnerable than she truly felt.

“It can’t hurt, Sims. She’s always been one of the best, you know that.” Adler said pointedly. “Anyways, we’re gonna use a hypnosis technique. While our little Bell will be in a hypnotic state, I will be reading the operation report, retelling every detail of what happened when she and you were boots on ground. Theoretically, she should remember it all and be able to decode it.”

Sims shrugged, Park and Lazar nodded in affirmation. The group disbanded wordlessly, Park headed over to the computer by the gun rack with Lazar trailing behind and Sims went over the gate that locked the chain link fence. That had left her and Adler, as he lit another cigarette (his fourth in the last couple of hours, Bell noted) and sat at a chair in front of the evidence board. 

He stared quietly at it, his mouth was set in a frown but his sunglasses had made it impossible to even begin to guess what the man was thinking. 

“Adler,” Bell spoke quietly, tapping his shoulder. Adler smiled ever so slightly, the small gesture was a welcome change from Sims’ behavior just a moment ago. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, kid.” He said coolly, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“That memory exercise we’re doing, we can use it to recover some of my memories?” A glint of hope appeared in her chestnut eyes.

He chuckled, low and husky. “Ain’t that exactly what we’re doing, Bell?” She rolled her eyes but gave a small laugh in return.

“You know what I mean. Like, the memories that aren’t from war or anything like that. Something a bit happier.”

Adler grimaced then sighed, ashing his cigarette and sitting up straighter, and the small smile that appeared on Bell’s face vanished, like she knew he was about to tell her some unfortunate news. The pair sat in an awkward silence as Adler thought about how to break it to her.

“We can’t really.” He reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze before pulling away. “The memory exercise only works when you have either one or two things; a written documentation of a memory that we can actually get our hands on or someone who was also there that can recall the memory and tell it to ya.”

“Oh.”

“When we found you, you didn’t have a journal or anything on you. Not even dog tags. No one would have been able to identify you if I wasn’t there.” He pursed his lips, offering a small apologetic smile. “Sorry, Bell.”

“Well I mean, we’ve been friends for a while. What do you know about me? Anything about my family?” The hopefulness had returned to Bell’s eyes, and Adler could feel a lump forming in his throat as he thought deeply. 

“Uh, well,” He cleared his throat. “You never spoke anything of them really, it seemed a sore spot for ya so none of us ever really pried.” She glanced down, looking utterly defeated as she sniffled. Adler tried to lighten the conversation at least a little. This wasn’t the place nor the time. “I know that you used to have a nicotine addiction worse than me.”

Bell chuckled. “I still crave them all the time.”

Adler chuckled, clapping her shoulder. “Tell you what,” He said, reaching into his pocket to grab his cigarettes. He handed one to her and she placed it between her teeth, giggling a little as he lit it for her. “I think you deserve at least one. Old habits die hard.” She took a drag, blowing a playful ‘O’ into his face. “Atta girl. I’ll get you a pack tomorrow.”

“I knew I liked you for some reason.” She smiled, the first genuine smile Adler had ever seen out of the woman.

“I’ve always been an enabler of your bad habits.” 

__

January 26th, 1968

Camp Haskins, South Vietnam

0700

“Bell, time to wake up” A raspy voice had startled her awake, the boot of the offender shaking the fold up chair she had practically passed out in. She groggily opened her eyes to find her new teammate with a shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s crank time.” 

“I’m up” She grumbled, rubbing her eyes. He swiped the chair back to the ground where Bell had been leaning, causing the legs to harshly meet the floor and she nearly fell forward. The man chuckled lightly.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, you knew we were doing this.”

“Yeah, I know.” The exhaustion was still evident in her voice as she rose from the chair, grabbing the M16 she had left leaning against the wall. She followed behind him, taking in the scene around her as she left the tent, the morning sun already beating against her skin.

It hadn’t been her first choice, being assigned as an agent working boots on ground with MACV-SOG, and it certainly wasn’t her first choice to be placed in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Vietnam. Her work was typically confined to that of a desk in an office, in the comfort of air conditioning and without the threat of an enemy attack at a moment’s notice. However, given her limited but notable military work, her handler thought she would be wasted back home in the comfort of an office in London. 

Her handler was of course right, but she wished he wasn’t as the stench of gunsmoke, gasoline, and body odor filled her nose. She watched about a dozen shirtless, grimy men going about their business. Most had simply ignored her, but a few had leered at her as she passed by, perhaps bedazzled by the first clean and somewhat attractive thing they had probably seen with their own eyes in months, Bell cockily mused to herself. 

“Camp Haskins, what a sausage fest.” Bell said quietly, chuckling.

“I heard that.” Adler yelled back good naturedly, and Bell half walked, half jogged to catch up with him. “You should be thankful, this place is a fuckin’ oasis compared to the shitstorm out there. Those boys keep it that way.”

“Yeah, yeah ‘God bless our troops’ and all that shit they keep telling us.” She jabbed Adler’s arm and he laughed softly. 

“I know it’s not what you’re used to, but your handler could’ve done worse for you.” They approached the landing zone, her other new teammate, and Adler’s best friend, she had determined based on their interactions, sat on the ledge of a helicopter ready and waiting for them. 

“Finally found Bell?” He hollered out over the sound of the whirling blades of the craft, without looking up from the magazine he was reading. Lawrence Sims was his name, he had dark skin with large, almost doe-like black eyes to match. He wasn’t a looker, but he had a friendly, jovial feel about him. Adler approached him, snatched the magazine from his hand to take a lingering glance at the lewd picture within. 

“That shit’s gonna make you go blind, Sims.”  He threw the magazine back at Sims as Bell loaded herself in. 

“That’s why I want it all right up here.” He replied jokingly, pointing his finger to his temple and shooting a playful, friendly wink at Bell.

“You’re not helping Bell’s accusation that this place is a sausage fest.”

“I’d say she’s made an astute observation, then.” Sims clapped his hand on her shoulder. She returned their grin. However, as the pilots began to load in, the mood shifted dramatically with it, like someone had sucked all the humor out of the situation and brought them back to the real world. Adler took this as his cue. 

“We got a new assignment. FOB 4 Ripcord is holding a vital asset that Charlie wants real bad.” He shouted over the deafening sound. 

“What kinda asset we talking about?” Sims asked. 

“The kind you don't ask about. Ripcord has been taking a hell of a beating, so it's our job to secure the asset and get the fuck out.” Bell began to stiffen and her palms began to sweat inexplicably, which Adler seemed to take notice of. “Relax. We got fast fliers providing combat air support for this mission. It'll be a walk in the park.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She said, putting on her headset as Adler took his leave. He climbed in the helicopter just opposite of them, and with that, about half the armada began to lift off. The chatter rang loud through the headset.

“Badger-niner-one good to go.”

“Badger-niner-two clear to go.”

“Badger-niner-three rotors up.”

Sims shuffled a bit, pulling a cassette tape from his pocket. “You like music?” He asked. Bell nodded, a lump beginning to form in her throat. “Good because I was gonna play it anyways.” He inserted the tape into the helicopter’s radio. He bobbed his head to the beat, singing to himself. His voice sounded muffled, the chatter over the radio began to sound more distant and then eventually, nonexistent. The only sound she could truly make out was the lyrics to the song Sims had played.

I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today

She felt sick, nauseous, the sound of the music only worsening the deep pit that began to build in her stomach, she began to sweat, hyperventilate, her vision became blurry, all the colors merging with the blinding light of the rising sun until-

__

Present Day

“Shit.” An indiscernible voice cursed, and with that, she felt a sharp jab on some unidentifiable place on her body and all faded into darkness again.

__

January 12th, 1968

“You all sitting comfortably?” Adler’s voice quirked up over the radio.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to tell us some bad news?” Bell quipped, noting how her palms were no longer sweaty the way they were just a second ago, calm had overcome her senses once more as she glanced around her. No one seemed to notice her little episode. Good.

“Because you’re a smart girl, Bell. But the news isn't bad. In fact it could be very, very good. The asset at Ripcord is gonna have to wait a little while. We're breaking off from the armada. Taking a detour.” 

Sims raised his eyebrows at this new development. “And... that's good because?”

“A source tipped us off that there may be a heavy hitter from town, a Soviet operative known as Perseus.” 

Bell’s head began to hurt again, the pain teetering on intolerable but she attempted to ignore it for the moment. However, the pain seemed to get worse and worse the more she tried not to think about it, and once again, her vision became blurry and all colors became one again.

“First time Perseus pinged our radar…”

__

Present Day

Bell found herself back in bed, the overhead light shining directly into her eyes again with a pounding headache to boot. She tentatively lifted her head and rolled onto her side, confused as to how she even ended up here. One moment, she was smoking with Adler and the next she was here. 

“Oh God…” She groaned painfully, grabbing the water bottle that had been left on the table adjacent to her bed, gulping down nearly half the bottle in one go. 

After she had come to, she began to hear the muffled voices from outside the door, although most of what they were saying was unintelligible, she managed to make out some words and phrases.

“...too much…”

“...resistance…try again soon” 

“...need something to…won’t be happy…” 

Bell couldn’t make out anymore, and the pounding in her skull overpowered her curiosity and she laid back down. She closed her eyes, yearning to let sleep take over her body once more when the door opened, Park and Adler walked in, both staring at her.

Adler’s eyes were of course, unreadable through his signature sunglasses but his expression was set into that of frustration, while Park’s seemed more confused than anything, her brow furrowed as if she was working out some complicated problem in her head.

“How are you feeling, Bell?” Park asked clinically. 

“Like I got hit by a bus.” She whined, Park nodded in assent as she scribbled something in a notebook.

“That’s to be expected.” Park replied, not looking up from what she was writing. Adler cleared his throat as he sat at the foot of the bed, beckoning Park to put the pen down. “Forgive me, I’ve just been documenting the recovery of your memories.” She smiled. “I have a vested interest in your case, seeing as the methods we are using to help you remember are relatively new and-”

“Cut to the chase, Park.” Adler interrupted, and Park sighed in frustration at his impatience. 

“The exercise we attempted tonight wasn’t as successful as we had hoped.” Park explained, reaching into her pocket to hand Bell two blue-colored pills. “For your head, love. You had some kind of reaction at the mention of Perseus during recollection that disrupted the hypnotic state. Pitiful thing, really. Your subconscious must have fairly negative feelings regarding your time spent with Adler in Vietnam.”

“That makes two of us, Bell.” Adler commented, the distaste evident in his tone as he stared off. “Not my favorite time to remember either.”

“Well, I do believe recollection can still be therapeutic for Bell and is essential to the task at hand. Get some sleep Bell, we’ll pick up where we left off in the morning,”  Park gave a courteous smile and left the small, sorry excuse for a room, closing the door behind her. Silence hung in the air for a moment as Bell and Adler were left alone.

“I’m counting on you, Bell. Get some good sleep, need ya sharp for this.” Adler broke the silence, standing from where he sat and heading for the door as well. As he turned the handle, he looked back towards Bell. “Remember, we’ve got a job to do.”

As she fell back asleep, the lyrics for the rest of that song tauntingly played again and again in her head. 

Hope you got your things together Hope you are quite prepared to die Looks like we're in for nasty weather One eye is taken for an eye

Tags: @mayasnowforest @kult6 -- I know you guys asked to be tagged like two years ago, but here y'all are <3

[pseudowho]

At the risk of giving any ounce of credence to that unwelcome asker, you once reblogged one of my works, which went on to become my most popular piece as a result of that increased boost in visibility for my small, relatively new account. Even so, it was the incredibly kind comment/review you left that made a lasting impact on me. So that asker was: A) Clearly loud and wrong B) Some things are much more valuable than the number of "likes" on Tumblr. Perhaps this is something they could reflect on if they'd spend less time pocket-watching other people's supposed engagement numbers on a social media site. Keep doing you, I enjoy reading both your work and the banter between you and Mr. Haitch!

One thing I've always sworn to do, is to maintain honesty and sincerity regarding my personal reblog culture. I ensure I only reblog the things that I adore, that I think are really amazing quality, or that explore something/use language in such a way/characterise very well/make me laugh, etc. in a way that makes it feel outstanding to me.

As such, all of my reblogs are heartfelt, and while I may reblog some writers more than once, it's because they've done these things more than once. I love to save for myself, and to share amazing work.

I'm aware that having a large following and sharing someone's work can make a massive difference to the amount of interaction they see...but it only opens the audience for their work a little bit.

It's not the barrier being opened. I'm not gatekeeping anything by being a "Big Blog™️'. It's not the big thing that determines whether someone gets more likes or followers. I had basically no followers when I started, and wrote and wrote and wrote to gain it.

What I see more and more is a shift towards cliquey and insincere reblogging. People repeatedly hyping work not for the quality, but because it's their friend and the 'positive reblog culture' has actually been transformed into a 'toxic reblog culture'.

This also flips the other way-- when someone or a group of people decide they don't like you, they stop reblogging or engaging with your work at all, even when they apparently loved it once before.

Isn't that sad? That tells you they're not really here for the art at all.

I'm here for the art; I'll reblog a great piece even if I don't personally like the person who created it. I'm not talking about giving genuinely horrible people a platform; just those whose personalities don't get along with mine. I'll still reblog their work if I love it, even if I know they hate me. Because I'm a big fucking girl.

I think half the reason my reblogging is so effective, as it was for you, is because I hand-on-heart love every piece I reblog.

How many times have you seen someone reblog their friend over and over and over, hyping their work beyond reasonability, and as such it feels insincere and forced?

Why has artwork and literature become one big Boys' Club, when we should be trying to push our world away from these bizarre "Us Vs Them" practices?

I don't sit and watch my notes. I keep receiving bitter assertions that the "only reason I have X notes is because I have X followers"...as if the notes mean everything, as if my writing hasn't drawn people to engage with my work, as if I came by my followers by luck instead of anything else?

I could wax lyrical all night.

Tl;dr-- toxic cliquey reblog culture is a scourge. You can rely on my reblogs to be utterly sincere and not driven by loyalty disguised as 'positive reblog culture', but based on my genuine love for what I reblog.

I'm so glad that any reblogs I've given you have increased the notice your work has received, but quite frankly, if your work gained traction after I reblogged it, I barely nudged your work-- its quality was its main driving force.

So don't do yourself dirty. You're fantastic.

I'm prepared to lose followers and gain more blocks even for this. People don't like being told they're arseholes, especially when they pretend they're above petty bullshit like this.

I'm here, and I have fun. I don't obsess over any of this. I really hope you stay for the fun too, and if you want a non-anon message, I'm more than happy for it, as I always am.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx