In The Post-war Games HelenaDick Mob Team Up Fic That I Probably Won't Get Around To Ever Writing, This

In the post-war games HelenaDick mob team up fic that I probably won't get around to ever writing, this is the dynamic going on:

1000 Books You May Have Actually Read

The most consistent human experience isn't love or family. It isn't living or surviving. It is being born, and it is dying.

Everyone who has lived, is living, or will live has to be born, and everyone who has lived, is living, or will live will die.

You get isekai'ed into the last fanfiction you WROTE

Reblog for sample size or perish

Don't forget the section titles, either. War Drums, Outbreak, Tides, Endgame, War Crimes.

War Drums evokes this image in my head of young boys on a battlefield marching along with the rest of the soldiers. It is a sort of static image that shows none of the previous or upcoming violence. It shows nothing of the blood about to be spilled, how important the drummers and trumpets are at the start of a battle, and marching the men along. It also evokes the sounds of a loud cacophony of war. Canons and guns, screams and shouts. Something no child, no person should have to see. It's muddy and hot, cold and frozen. There is dirt on the fingers of men and blood on the hands that reach for weapons. Something coming, something not quite there. Something in the air.

Outbreak. Uncontrolled chaos as everything falls out of place. A sickness that spreads taking over the rational minds, a scramble for control and power, the first blood already dried and chipping off the walls. It is the controlled lines of children breaking out of conformity and screaming as the fires start to spread. It is the sound of snapping chains and burning metal. It is never childish, but the word feels as such. Showing none of the true horror but encapsulation of it all.

Tides of the water on the ocean, the gentle movement of waves, children's laughter, and parents' disinterest. Calm midday with water bottles and prewrapped sandwiches. Except tides aren't calm and the ones here rip families apart, the violence is waves of blood and life. It is fighting the movement upstream as the waves try and pull everything under. The moon moves the tides in predictable ways, but what happens when the moon no longer has control. Children are taught to fear the waves but never the tides.

The games must come to an end. The final chapter must be read, and the consequences are starting to peak around the corner. The final moves must be made, desprite, calculated, final moves. Forget not what is bring fought for but what has been lost. Those who stand left must see it through. This isn't high school dodgeball where there are two people left on the court or the last hidden person in hide and seek.

Count the dead, count the crimes, this was a war. The living must deal with that. Look behind and see who lies six feet deep, who lost the most, who gained the most. Put on the suits and dresses, grab the umbrellas. The sun is shining, but it's time for mourning. Speak out and scream about the injustice of it all. For now, it's time to recognize the war crimes.

Setting aside the actual quality of the event itself, War Games is just a really good and evocative title. It's the contrast between the light-hearted image invoked by the title and the bloody reality. This idea of soldier boys playing at games who are suddenly confronted with the reality of war. It's about Bruce making a hundred contingencies and Steph setting it all into motion without really understanding what she's doing. The parts of them that are children playing with fire contrasted with the innocents caught up in the blaze when it burns out of control.