#sure maybe a few people would have died anyways but so many deaths could have been avoided if they had warned people before 8pm

[aroaceofthesea]

I hate hate hate how all newspapers talk about the unpredictable storm that happened in valencia. It was not unpredictable. Meteorologists had been warning about it for a week. 12 hours before it happened they issued a red alert.

It was not unpredictable. It was the politician's fault that it caught people unaware: even having all the information they decided not no warn anyone until the catastrophe was already happening

The storm in valencia this week was many things, but unpredictable is not one of them unless knowing a week in advance can be considered unpredictable

[itsfairly]

10:22pm // Nanami Kento x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

cw: gn!reader, fluff, slight angst if you squint, established-sh relationship, basically yall are dating but not publically, alcohol mentions, death mentions (no one dies).

summary: you're out drinking with other staff at jujutsu high when you decided to step out. when nanami comes and joins you, small talk gets you two thinking.

a/n: i wrote half in a bathroom stall when drunk, what was i even doing? i was supposed to meet no people not pin over my fictional husband. anyways, yeah, took an impromptu break but hey, if i wasn't feeling like writing, i wasn't gonna push it. but here i am again, wanting to write, so here is this!

“What are you doing here?”

You turned around, looking at Nanami standing a few feet before you. You sigh, your breath creating a small fog against the cold of the night as you lean against the bar’s entrance by the window.

“It was too loud.”

“And it’s too cold.” He responds, taking off his blazer and wrapping it around your shoulders.

You chuckled, clinging to the warmth of the fabric. “They are gonna know if they see us like this. They are all right there and we are right on sight, you know?”

Nanami walks beside you, looking at the street before you two. You were right. Considering that the two of you seemed like just coworkers to everyone else but something else between you two behind the privacy of whatever space you could find, seeing you two together like this with his blazer around you was going to raise some flags. And yet, he couldn’t help but search for you when he noticed you were gone for a longer time than his liking.

“Gojo is keeping them busy, trying to get them to play his game of saying why they like him for them to even notice we left.” He looked through the window, where, sure enough, a sober Gojo was determined to get those reasons out of the either drunk or tired rest of the table. It didn’t seem like it was successful despite Gojo’s huge energetic grin.

“Is that the real reason why you stepped out?” You smirked, teasing at his rather push-and-pull dynamic with the white-haired sorcerer. “Because you didn’t want to play that?”

“I can have multiple reasons why I stepped out. Maybe that’s one of them, but seeing you in the cold was another one.” He looked down at you, his voice softening as he saw how you were gripping his blazer closer to you. “A big one at that.”

You chuckled, looking with a warm smile that made the cold become much more bearable even when standing outside the bar well past sunset. “Aw, what a gentleman.”

“You deserve one. I want to be one for you.” He said, his eyes on the street before the two of you.

If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s quite flustered. Despite his composed demeanor, he was not looking into your eyes when he said such genuine and affectionate words, but rather towards the street in front of you two. It was almost like a confession despite how many times the two of you have gone on dinners together, or grazed each other’s hands when others weren’t looking, or the soft “be safe” whispers whenever either of you went on a mission. Yeah, those acts were confessions within themselves and you were fine with them, knowing that he wasn’t the most vocal about his feelings upfront. But hearing such feelings come from his lips into a soft and gentle tone meant a lot. Those nine words meant that he was opening up to you more and more.

You furrow your brows, however. It didn’t matter how direct his or your words were or their frequency, being a sorcerer wasn’t the best job to fall for your coworkers. Death lurked in every mission, reminding you of how dangerous it was and how painful it would be if either of you would just be gone. Never again to tease him about how buying books was his hobby rather than reading them, never again for him to feel your hands on his shoulders as you insists on helping him relax as you massaged them, never again to see each other’s eyes full of life and the possibility—the yearning of being more. The longing to not be restricted of being together because you didn’t know how much you had left.

It may be the alcohol that got you thinking about this, but it was always a thought you wanted to push away whenever you saw him, wanting to feel the happiness of what you were experiencing rather than feeling the pain of what-ifs. You wanted more, to be closer to him. Sometimes, you could see how he ached for the same despite his wish to not burden you—or anyone for that matter—with the uncertainty of his safety.

But one thing was certain, not only tonight as he accompanied you outside with your breath puffing into the air while the rest of the group drank the night away for some escape of the jujutsu world, but every day since the distance between you shortened by the day.

He never burdened you with the uncertainty of his love for you—because it was certain and it was visible in the most beautiful way. His longing for you, his worry for you, his inability to completely adhere to his idea of staying single while a sorcerer, his goddamn devotion towards you that it made you wonder how no one has even caught on that you two are a thing. He loved you, loves you in the smallest ways that, when put together, are the biggest act one has ever done for you.

“You are.” You whisper, not even realizing the words escaped from your mind and were spoken into existence until he turned to look at you. Now that you had his attention, you stood a little straighter and said with much more conviction, “you already are.”

Nanami takes a second. His eyes looking deep into yours, unable to look away as if he is trying to read them. His brows mirror yours, knitting together ever so slightly. He was taken back by how much softer you looked in this moment despite the cold tensing your body. The warm light from the bar spilled outside and kissed your skin with a yellow, gentle glow. It was hard staying away from you, which is why it was a no brainer to follow you when you stepped out. It wasn’t just because he wanted to check on you, but because you always managed to pull him closer to you without even trying. You felt so close, but he wanted you closer.

It felt natural the moment he grabbed your hand, entwining his fingers with yours without giving it much thought of his own. He was tired of thinking anyway. He didn’t want to gather more reasons to stay away from you when the feeling on his heart weighed too much for them to hold water against it. He didn’t want to love you from afar, to have you in an arm’s reach but never hold you for the world to see. He didn’t want you to be like the books that sat on his shelves, gathering dust that taunted him with the fact he bought them and had yet to read them. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to read you like a book. To go as far as to highlight his favorite parts of you, to read you over and over until he could recite you from memory to the world. He wanted you to be his favorite book in that sense.

“Then I’ll make sure to be more than just a gentleman to you.” He adds, his thumb moving against the back of your hand to warm it up.

Without skipping a beat, you take a deep breath before repeating your words, “you already are, Kento. More than that even.”

As your hand squeezes him and your eyes shine as if they were reflecting the moon themselves, things become certain for him as well. You loved him. Through the teasing and the burden of what could happen to either of you, you loved him with such a confidence and fulfillment that the feeling would stay the same for a long time and your actions would follow. You wanted to close that distance and hold him in your hands with such care and warmth that would shelter him from the stress of his everyday life. To cherish his skin, his hair, and every crook and cranny that he allowed you to see and touch until your fingertips burned with his feel as if you were to draw a map of him from memory. He was your favorite sensation in the world. You wanted to protect and nurture that sensation called Nanami Kento.

“I guess we want the same thing then.” Nanami softly spoke, taking a deep breath and squeezed your hand back.

“You guess right.” You answered back, nodding slightly with a smile.

Nanami nods back, holding your hand and guiding you back to inside the bar and back to your coworkers. This time, when you get near the group, he doesn't let go of your hand and you don’t let go of his.

[allastoredeer]

Do you have any headcanons about Alastor's participation in WW1? The Selective Service Act of 1917 made it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service and was later expanded to include men as young as 18, so if the stream saying that Alastor was late thirties to early forties when he died is still canon he'd have lived through that

So, I hadn't gotten to this part in my development of Alastor's backstory, but it got me thinking because, huh, how DID Alastor manage to get out of that?

Unless he just served in WW1. Which...I find oddly funny. I don't know why, but the the image of Alastor in the trenches...

But anyway, you got me curious so I looked into it. You're 100% right about the Selective Service Act of 1917 making it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service, and they even came up with different "classes" of the men who qualified, and if they exhausted one class, they'd go down to the next.

However, even with the Selective Service Act, there was still a lot of draft evasion going on. In fact, a significant amount of draft evasion happened in the South, which, as I'm sure you know, Louisiana is part of (some of it was in part of Southerners not having documentation, and thus, unable to even legally draft, which would probably give them a whole other slew of problems).

So, I was looking into how people evaded the draft. A lot of it is split up into different groups, like draft avoidance and draft resistance, with their only little list of things, but that's a lot and I don't wanna get into all of that. But my bet is on Alastor doing draft avoidance.

And there were actually quite a few interesting ones, like:

Claiming to have a mental or psychological problem (if you could find a doctor willing to certify that for you)

Student deferment, when someone is primarily in school to learn and study (or obtaining one in an effort to avoid the draft)

Deliberately failing the military intelligence tests

Professing sincere or religious ethical beliefs (join a church, avoid the draft!)

Bribery

and my personal favorite:

Being homosexual.

Because, as you know, the government can't allow the gay in the military!

And look, I'm a silly goober, so of course I immediately went to Alastor claiming to be homosexual. But the thing is, I kind of do think that is something Alastor would do for a majority of reasons.

In the 1920's, social values were evolving, and a lot of postwar "youths" began questioning traditional concepts of family, sexuality, and gender. There were "little Bohemia's" around the US, including in Manhattan and San Francisco, with communities and groups like this, and they weren't exactly unknown.

Back to Alastor, he lived in the French Quarter in New Orleans (or, at least, that's where I think he lived as a majority of mixed-raced Creole people lived there, which we know Alastor canonically is). And it just so happens, that it became the birth place of New Orleans gay community in the 1920's. There were entire gay neighborhoods, there were clubs where people dressed in the clothing of the opposite gender, they had parties and bars, and while it wasn't "the norm" to live this "lifestyle," and there was still a lot of harassment, it was still fairly normal to see. (Of course, then came what we can call the "gay panic" where government started cracking down on it, and claiming the gay community were all predators and pedophiles, and - well, you know. You know.)

But that was after/close to Alastor's death, so...

Anyway, I 100% believe that Alastor did take part and lived in communities like those. Names and labels for those things didn't exist at the time, so it's not like he knows what they're called, but homosexuals, cross-dressing, drag queens, they were normal to him. He's lived with them, partied with them, maybe even tried a few things out himself(so many headcanons, guys. So many).

This is to say, I think Alastor would 100% be comfortable claiming to be homosexual to avoid getting drafted. You've seen getting married for tax benefits, now consider becoming gay for draft evasion! I actually had a pretty fun talk about it with a friend in Discord, which only cemented it in my mind LMAO.

I have SO many headcanons around Alastor and him living in the French Quarter, in gay communities, where they challenged social norms (and we all know how he feels about challenging status quo's 😏)

But if not that, my runner up is that he totally bribed his way out of it. I don't know how he got the money, maybe he killed someone and stole their wallet, IDK, but bribery is a yes from me.

And if not THAT one, then he joined and church and claimed to have sincere religious and ethical beliefs 😇 🙏 (Yes, this is inspired by Nun Alastor, and no, I do not take constructive criticism. That's what happened guys, I was there). Besides, New Orleans was pretty Catholic, I'm sure he could find a church somewhere.

That's my take on it XD I think the one closest to Alastor's canon character would be bribery, but this is fandom, and if I say he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war, then goddammit he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war.

[toxinoire]

Kara never thought of it when Lena first asked her this question.

"What if someone says; in like a few years maybe, I'd be...gone?" Lena asks, staring at the distance.

Kara got confused at this question. But decided to answer anyway. "Well, I'd most likely, punch them or something. I'm not letting that happen."

Lena chuckled. "You're right...I guess it's just another existential crisis."

"Want to talk about it?" Kara asks softly. Lena just smiles at her. "No, darling. It's alright. It's just one of those times."

"Well, if you need anything...food, movies, a hug, I'm right here."

Lena laughs and nods. "Got that."

She didn't ask that question for no reason. She isn't sure if Kara already figured this fact out already, but their time is limited. Because Kara won't die unless she gets killed with Kryptonite or the day the yellow sun flying over them dies.

Lena knows there's a chance that Kara's life could be at stake at any given moment, but at the same time...there's a possibility that she could have Kara for the rest of her life. While Kara won't have Lena, nor the rest of their family for the rest of her life.

See here's the thing, Kara knew that. But ignorance is a bliss, as they say. She pretends that the day won't come.

But...maybe she indulged herself too much.

Because right now, Kara, swear to Rao, drops the car she's currently carrying as her eyes widen in fear. Through a window, not that big, but big enough for her to witness it firsthand.

Lena, sweet, gentle, beautiful Lena, with a knife pierced through her neck. She heard the enemy responsible for it, the one who's back is facing the window, laugh. Fucking laugh. Kara and Lena make eye contact through the window, Lena smiling gently, softly, warmly, at her. Muttering something no human could hear, but Kara heard so clearly. Her voice as soft as her gaze.

"I love you."

Kara barges in, breaking the whole wall, she rushes to her, hoping she could still save her. Hoping she wouldn't lose her. She can't lose Lena, she just can't.

However, it was too late. The knife stabbed a very fatal spot, and Kara witnesses Lena drop to the ground.

Kara can no longer hear her heartbeat.

"Aww, look at Supergirl. The Paragon of Hope, looking hopeless-"

Before this asshole can finish, Kara pushes him, actually pushes him off the broken wall, she hears him scream and plummet down, but she doesn't care.

"Lena?"

Nothing.

"Please, no. No. Fuck. Please don't leave me, don't take her too, please." Kara tries to get help, but to no avail.

Lena Luthor's death was publicly announced two days later. Many were happy at the fact that there was not a single Luthor left. The Superfriends grieved in their own ways. At least some people in the city actually acknowledged what Lena did for the world and paid their respects. The Superfriends tried to comfort Kara. She appreciates it, of course, but it won't bring Lena, Kara's...everything, back to her.

Now everywhere she goes, Kara just sees Lena.

She would try to go to Big Belly Burger, she just remembers that time they celebrated Lena's birthday there. Noonan's? She just sees Lena's smile when Kara gives her coffee from that place. The park in National City? That time Lena used her magic fully for the first time. CatCo? She remembers every hall Lena ever walked in. She sees a book? She remembers Lena giving her one.

Her own apartment also reminds her of Lena, all the times they had there. Certain foods remind her of Lena. Everything around her is now just a ghost of Lena. Even fucking kryptonite reminds her of Lena.

She's everywhere Kara goes.

No one in the city realized how much Supergirl was so torn over the loss of Lena Luthor.

Some dickwads actually thought she was happy about it, which some idiot reporter asked her one day.

"You must be really relieved that the last Luthor is no longer a threat."

Kara stays silent, yet her eyes emmit everything she wants to say.

Kelly holds back an angry Alex from hitting someone, but Kelly herself is yelling about how insensitive that was, about how this reporter is disrespecting the dead, about how they forgot that Lena worked with Supergirl. Both Brainy and Nia list down everything that Lena has done to save the city.

Kara? She's been silent, before taking a deep breath, looking at the reporter, knowing there are cameras surrounding her, she says,

"This world is nothing without her."

Then, she flies away, higher into the blue skies and screams.

Would you look at that, world. There's a Luthor that successfully broke a Super.

[raina16]

Perspective

I'm of the opinion that Keyleth's perspective now in the past 30 years is not one she needs to have in the future, even if Vax still remains the Champion of Ravens, or some other position in the celestial sphere. I think much of her anger and pain could be abated if she changed her perspective. Instead of mourning the life they didn't get, appreciating what they do have.

One thing that is a fact is that Keyleth, assuming she was not killed in some way, is going to live a very very long life. This was always an issue, her friends, and Vax'ildan, would die many centuries before her. Initially it even stood in the way of her relationship with Vax. She'd live without him something like 10 times longer than she'd lived with him even if they both just died of old age.

Yes she nominally accepted that but thinking you've accepted something that is 150 yrs off is not the same as living through it. When Vax died would she really have been so accepting and just moved on? Or would she have mourned him for the many centuries to come? What if she never got over it for her 1600 more years of life? How might that affect her personality, her friendships and leadership?

It's only been 30 years since he, not sure what you'd call it, ascended. That's only a very small percentage of her lifetime, something like 2 percent. It's perfectly normal to still be in the "anger" stage. There is no timeframe on grief.

But what about in 500 years when all of her old friends in Vox Machina are gone, when almost everyone she knew from that time is gone, except maybe a few fellow arch druids?

Those ravens would almost certainly be a comfort to her. Just as he meant them to be now. And if he had suddenly stopped sending them, so she could "move on", who is to say she'd have moved on? Maybe she'd have felt an even worse emptiness, maybe she'd start looking for signs in all the ravens (would people start calling her the "crazy"raven lady?)

The same with Vax himself. No he's not with her physically, most of the time, but if things had gone as she'd imagined, he would have been centuries dead already anyway, and her still with most of her life still ahead of her.

But because he's become Champion of Ravens he's still there in some form and she's still loved and someone still remembers her as Keyleth and not only the powerful nearly godlike herself Voice of the Tempest.

Letting Go

I don't think she has to let go. I don't think he has to let go. Not of each other. They simply have to let go of the old dream and move forward as what they are. I think he's perhaps further along that path than she is, in that he doesn't seem angry, but not completely.

Instead of mourning(or being angry, I think it's ok to feel some sorrow for what might have been) about they didn't get, Keyleth could take comfort in the fact that much like her, he'll still be out there centuries from now, and as the ravens showed, still thinking of her too, instead of long buried and completely unreachable for 90 percent of her life.

500 years from now she'll likely feel that way anyway but I think she can get there now if she tries to change her perspective and takes a long view instead of a short one.

Keyleth even now lives a full life, she has family, she got her mother back, she has friends. She can continue to make more friends, though admittedly it's harder in her leadership position and because of her already mentioned extended lifespan, but not impossible. She by no means has an empty life, even if she didn't have a new romantic partner.

If anything she's in rather a better position in that regard than Vax, who as Champion it appears doesn't really seem to get to form new close relationships. He's got the Matron, fleeting interactions with the dead and getting tough with anyone who tries to mess with the rules of life and death. And loving him, being the one who remembers the man inside the mantle, is such a kindness to him as well.

Mythic Romance

Here's the romantic in me, it's bittersweet yes but it's not bad and it doesn't have to be something Keyleth finds so painful.

There's no reason they can't continue to love each other. They don't have to "move on" from each other. From a certain perspective this actually may be better fit for the lives they lead, for the life she was always meant to lead. She was always meant to have a life apart, not one like most people, and in a way it's fitting that her love would take a different course as well.

When she finally passes on, if she becomes a tree, ravens can sit in her branches. Or if she doesn't go the tree route perhaps the Raven Queen(assuming she's still around) would allow her Champion to finally be at rest himself, for Keyleth to be the final soul he greets in death and they can move into the next chapter together.

It's the stuff of legends really.

[madrone33]

So, I've been re-reading the Deltora Quest books for the first time in years because my obsession with them has recently been revived (just finished Valley of the Lost), and man, I don't think I realised before just how, like, absolutely devoted Lief is to getting rid of the Shadow Lord and freeing Deltora. It's especially apparent in the first few books.

The Belt is basically all that matters to him. Not even finding the Heir is more important, honestly the heir is very much secondary to the Belt. They're just the person who will put on and activate the Belt's magic; they are a means to an end. His own life is secondary to the Belt - which isn't to say he's not afraid of dying, he really really is, but when shit gets real and it looks like this is the end, his thoughts almost always go to the Belt. Just like the heir, Lief thinks of himself as a means to an end. (Which is ironic, seeing as how he is the heir.) Lief will make the Belt, and the heir will wear the Belt, but it's the Belt itself that matters most to him. Because it's the Belt that will save them.

'Do not worry about me,' Lief whispered, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. 'Nothing matters but that we seize the gem. If I die in the attempt, it will not be your fault. You must take the Belt from my body and go on alone, as you have wished.'

I must prepare myself for death, Lief thought. But he could only think of the Belt around his waist. If he was killed here, the Belt would lie forgotten with his bones. The gems would never be restored to it. The heir to the throne of Deltora would never be found. The land would remain under the Shadow forever.

'No!' Lief cried. 'Wait!' At this moment of terror, his one thought was for the Belt of Deltora and the topaz fixed to it. If he did nothing to prevent it, this golden eyed giant would surely find the Belt after he was dead, take it from his body- and perhaps give it to Thaegan. Then Deltora would be lost to the Shadow Lord forever. I must throw the Belt over the cliff, he thought desperately. I must make sure that Barda and Jasmine see me do it. Then they will have some chance of finding it again. If only I can delay him until I can do it...

[Literally just died] Lief felt himself pulled to his feet and slung over Barda's shoulder. His head was spinning. He wanted to cry out, 'What of the crown? The opal?' But then he was that the crown was in Barda's hand.

Lief's fingers felt for the clasp of the Belt he wore under his shirt. If necessary, he would unloose it and let it fall into the mud at the bottom of the stream. It would be better for it to lie there than for it to fall into the hands of the Shadow Lord again.

And maybe it didn't really hit me when I first read them 'cause I was approximately A Child, but it's really sinking in now just how bad things have been in Deltora for the last 16 years. When they talk about slavery and fighting arenas and brandings and starvation and executions in the streets. For some reason all these human atrocities are hitting home a lot more than before. It used to be the monsters that seemed the scariest, but now I can see that yes, the monsters are horrifying and traumatising and terrifying, but Lief and Barda and Jasmine continuously choose to keep going, they willingly put themselves through hell, because the Shadow Lord is worse.

Anyway, all this to say, Deltora really couldn't ask for a more selfless and loyal King that Lief. This kid is willing to die so many times over if it means his people are safe.

(The only thing he tends to go off mission for are his friends and family, but even then, I'm thinking of that part in Isle of the Dead where Laughing Jack holds Jasmine hostage and demand the Belt in return. And Lief refuses. Because his people must come first. And he knows Jasmine would never want him to betray their land for her. Like??? So many feels.)

[writing-ca-ira]

HASARDER — PART 2

YJ/Teen Titans Dick Grayson x Reader

Part 1 << MASTERLIST >> Part 3

Trying to explain something that doesn’t exist is hard… so you can only imagine what it was like trying to explain the Titans to a bunch of skeptical cops. Luckily for you, they turned you over to a couple of people who believe your story slightly more.

Reader is gender neutral.

Contains: civilian reader, mentions of death (your own), spoilers: you’re actually alive, it’s the you from the YJ universe that’s dead.

You have no idea who you are anymore.

Well, that isn’t true. You’re (Y/N) (L/N), and from how many times you’ve said your name to Leaguers (oh, yes; Leaguers, from the Justice League… but now’s certainly not the time to get starstruck all over again) from this week alone… god… it would be impossible to forget that you’re (Y/N) (L/N). You’ve told Batman, Martian Manhunter, some science guy named Adam, Doctor frickin’ Fate… not to mention all of the lab results that you’ve looked over (well, that you were allowed to look over, anyway. Dick would confide in you about the Bat’s preference for secrecy all the time, so you had a hunch what you’ve seen isn’t all there is to know)… all of them would have your name printed on them; (Y/N) (L/N).

So, yeah. The problem didn’t stem from who you were. It was… well… whose were you.

Of all of the people who got to run their little tests on you — the world’s greatest detective, a telepathic alien, a lord of order — you found it a little funny that it was the random science guy named Adam that provided some sort of lead on your situation. He did an MRI scan on you, and something emitting from your body caused the computers to fritz out a bit. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that there were traces of Zeta Beams in your body.

“Zeta Beams are what power our Zeta Tubes,” Adam explained. “You use Zeta to… teleport.”

Teleport…

Well, that would explain how you ended up on the other side of the country when you… died… in Rhode Island.

You addressed this hypothesis to Mr. Science Dude, wondering if that’s what he himself was thinking. It seemed logical, after all; it’s not like a dead person could get themselves across the country without raising a few federal eyebrows. But Adam shook his head at your words, steel eyes darkening with something unrecognizable.

“I… considered the possibility. Maybe you were somehow hit by a Zeta Beam before you died, and maybe something in string theory…” you recalled him shaking his head, as though to get rid of whatever digression he was going down. “(Y/N)… you’ve been an anomaly to us for a week straight. You died, and then showed up 2 years later in a town we know you’ve never been to. The next logical step — extreme, but still logical — was to dig up your grave, and… you’re still there. It’s still… you… in there.”

That all was his buildup to a jarring question;

“(Y/N)… how much do you know about parallel universes?”

That conversation happened a few days ago. You were now standing in front of the bathroom mirror of some random apartment Batman had you stashed you away in by Adam — a “safe house,” as he called it — studying each and every inch of your face. After waking up at 6 a.m. from a horrible dream about your towermates, you began to worry about the weirdest things. Were you a ghost? Was this all a fever dream from a coma? Did your friends randomly disappear off the face of the Earth like you did, and now they’re “dead” as well?

… Have you stopped looking like yourself?

That last one is why you were staring so intensely at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like… you. At least, you were pretty sure you looked like you. The same skin tone, eye color, hair style… yup, 100% (Y/N). And while you might’ve not been this… world’s… (Y/N), you were still your own (Y/N); the civilian housemate of the Teen Titans and Di— Robin’s best friend. You are the (Y/N) that plays fetch with Starfire and Beastboy, and watches Cyborg tinker with something in the garage while Raven reads in the corner. You are the (Y/N) that listens to Robin vent and then go out for milkshakes to make him feel better. No matter what bits and pieces you may hear about this other (Y/N), the one in the mirror is the one that’s… y’know… you.

I’m (Y/N) (L/N), you thought to yourself. And while I’m… a little lost right now, I’ll be back home with the Titans before I know it. The Justice League will make sure of it.

You watched in real time as your eyes hardened with determination. Batman promised you that they were working on something. While you weren’t exactly sure how parallel universes worked (it was hard to stomach the notion of parallel universes to begin with), you had no other choice but to believe that there was some way to get you back home. In a galaxy with super-powered humans, aliens, magicians, literal gods, what-have-you, there just has to be a way. You got here somehow in the first place, right? Surely, you can go back.

A faint knocking on your door caused you to snap out of your thoughts.

Knock knockknock knock.

Knockknockknockknock.

Knockknock knock.

Knock knock.

You furrowed your brows at the weird rhythm, until you remembered Batman’s instructions; don’t answer the door for anyone unless they knock in that specific pattern (apparently, the pattern was “chum” in Morse). If you heard the code-knock, then that meant it was him at the door, though he hadn’t visited since you since your last time in the lab. After giving yourself a final scan in the mirror, you made your way over to the door and mentally prepared yourself to be face to face with Batman.

… Except, upon opening the door, you weren’t face to face with Batman.

At the doorway stood a man around the same height as Batman, but most definitely not dressed like Batman. Instead, he was dressed like a business casual man, his crisp white button-up layered under a grey sweater and a black coat. His dark slacks looked recently ironed, and his shoes looked just polished. The entire ensemble made his worn down Gotham Knights hat look a bit out of place, but when you noticed his sunglasses, you recognized that this was no stylistic choice; he was undercover (being friends with Robin made you quite familiar with the “civvy” look).

Taking a few moments to study his face, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he looked… familiar. Not a personal kind of familiar, but a what-movie-have-I-seen-this-actor-be-in kind of familiar. That chiseled jawline, those prominent cheekbones, the slight beak of his upper lip… something about him screamed tabloid target to you, and it was eating away at the back of your brain.

Then, it finally hit you. “Bruce Wayne.”

The man in front of you grimaced, the corners of his lips twitching upwards for a fraction of a second as though he were attempted to smile. “You don’t… want an autograph, do you?”

“Uh… I’m good,” was all you could respond with. Formulating a sentence was quite difficult. What were you supposed to say to Gotham’s very own billionaire playboy? You know, they guy whose face is basically everywhere across not only the United States, but the entire world? The guy whose ward is your very own best friend Dick Grayson… who is also Robin… the sidekick of… well…

“… It really is true,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… him.”

A sigh left Bruce’s lips. “I’m guessing Dick told you everything, then.”

You shook your head at this. “Not really. He only told me his name was Dick. Then he showed me his face one day, and…” you tried to fight off the urge to look smug from your own detective skills. “Only so many people in the world have the same face as Richard Grayson.”

Just as only so many people in the world have the same face as (Y/N) (L/N).

That thought painfully reminded you of the reality of your situation. This wasn’t Bruce Wayne. Well, it was, but it wasn’t your Bruce Wayne. And his ward, Richard Grayson, wasn’t your Dick. These were all strangers that may look, sound, and act like people from your world, but… this wasn’t your world.

And one look at Mr. Wayne’s troubled face told you he was thinking something along those lines. “(Y/N)… can I come in?”

You silently nodded, stepping aside to make room. The billionaire crossed the threshold of the apartment and watched intently as you closed the door. No words were said for an uncomfortable couple of seconds, and you soon realized you would have to be the one to speak up first.

“So… is there anything new? About sending me home?”

Mr. Wayne pursed his lips together. “No. Nothing new.” One of his hands moved to soothingly plant itself on your shoulder. “But rest assured, we’re doing everything we can to figure out a way. We’ll get you home, (Y/N).”

This… was weird. Not just the fact that Bruce Wayne was comforting you, but the man that’s supposedly Batman — Gotham’s protector that strikes fear in the hearts of criminals — is being… well… kind. During your interrogations with the Caped Crusader, he was nothing but cold and distant with you, making you feel as though you’re guilty of something despite knowing you’ve done nothing wrong. And Dick tells you stories of Batman’s heartlessness all the time (by sticking his pointer fingers up by his head and doing his best Batman voice). Was it because you were talking to Bruce Wayne, and not Batman, that he was kind to you?

Maybe THIS Batman is just so different from MY Batman, you mentally noted.

Nevertheless, you offered Mr. Wayne a sad smile. “Thank you… and…” your smile dropped as you thought of this world’s (Y/N), “… I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” said Mr. Wayne. “You have no idea how you ended up here, and really, this whole thing is a field day for our trusted scientists.” He offered you a lopsided grin. “Adam Strange has been talking everyone’s ear off about… stuff that I don’t really understand.”

You tried to give out a humored laugh, but it came out more as a pathetic chortle. “Always happy to help make earth-shattering discoveries in the realm of theoretical physics.”

But… of all the people in the world (well, you’re world) to be a scientific anomaly, why did it have to be you? You were just a normal civilian that just so happened to live with the Titans. There’s no reason why you should be involved with this whole parallel universe fiasco… and what if there isn’t a way to send you home? What if there’s so many parallel universes out there that it’s impossible to pinpoint yours? What if you spent the rest of your life being studied by scientist after scientist in this foreign timeline, while your own universe becomes nothing but a distant memory?

Mr. Wayne’s deep voice brought you back to reality. “(Y/N)…”

Your eyes snapped back to him. “Uh… yeah?”

“I… didn’t just want to check up on you,” the billionaire hesitantly admitted, his brows furrowed with uncertainty. “There’s… well… there’s something…”

The way he trailed off made you feel uneasy. Though you were hoping this wasn’t going where you thought it was going, you knew it had something to do with… the elephant in the room. It was the one thing for the past week that caused your stomach to churn and your throat to constrict with pure guilt.

Of course, never addressing it seemed very unlikely. “It’s about… your (Y/N), isn’t it?”

Mr. Wayne stood as Still as a statue for a brief period, but eventually let out a shaky sigh. “The only people who know about… this situation… are me, Martian Manhunter, Adam Strange, and Doctor Fate. We have a few JL-affiliated scientists working on the possibility of dimensional travel, but… your name has been kept out of those projects.” His voice was becoming more and more gruff, reminiscent of the Batman voice you were accustomed to. “You do understand why it’s preferable that way, right?”

“Everyone who knew the (Y/N) here knows they’re…” you could barely finish your sentence without the stinging sensation of bile rising in your throat. “They’re… dead. It’s just better to keep your (Y/N)’s close ones away from all of this… just so no one gets false hope.”

At your response, Mr. Wayne nodded. “Exactly. We’re trying to send you home without anyone noticing you were here.” He then bowed his head towards the floor. “At least… that was the plan…”

You dumbly blinked at him. “Was?”

The billionaire took his sunglasses off to rub his face. “… Dick… he…”

Your heart rate picked up when he mentioned Dick, but you had to remind yourself that it wasn’t your Dick he was talking about. This Dick wasn’t your best friend that you like to hang out with around Jump City. All you could do was patiently wait for Mr. Wayne to continue as apprehension ate at your brain.

“He found out,” he finally admitted. “About you. I don’t know how, but I’m sure he had… some help.” Worry lines formed on his face as his ocean-colored eyes found yours. “He wasn’t happy that he was kept out of the loop, and… he wants to see you.”

“But I’m not his (Y/N),” you quickly blurted out. “I… I mean… I’m not the (Y/N) from this world. I’m not the same (Y/N) that… knew him.”

“And he knows you aren’t.” Mr. Wayne’s frown somehow grew bigger. “At least, he says that he knows you aren’t. He just feels… kept in the dark. You were his— (Y/N) was his best friend, and he told me that… I shouldn’t keep secrets about his best friend. Even if it… isn’t…”

“… his best friend,” you finished.

Mr. Wayne slowly nodded. There was a blanket of silence that fell over the room, and it felt like hours later when the billionaire spoke up again. “He was… extremely upset. You two were close, so I… I understand. But… you were also close with so many other people that… that it’s…” he had to lean against the wall to steady himself. “I thought I… was doing the right thing. I thought I was saving him from so much pain and… and heartache by hiding all of this…”

The immense self-pity that wafted from his form reminded you so much of Dick that you struggled to breathe. Moments like these were all too familiar to you; Dick would disappear after a mission, and you would find him beating himself over the head for something. You wondered if the Dick in this universe was the same exact way, and if the Dick from your universe got it from your Batman.

“Dick never liked secrets,” you began, putting a hand on Mr. Wayne’s shoulder, much like he did for you not too long ago. “He would always tell me about some guy named B, and how B didn’t seem to trust him.” You cleared your throat in order to attempt your best Robin impression. “I’m his partner!! He needs to trust me more!! I don’t wanna have anything to do with him!!”

A sad puff of air left the man’s lips. “… That definitely sounds familiar.”

“But if there’s one thing I know about Dick…” you couldn’t help but roll your else. “He’s a giant hypocrite.” Mr. Wayne’s eyes snapped up to meet yours quizzically while you continued. “Do you know how many secrets he’s hidden from the Titans? And how many he still keeps hidden? Can’t believe that guy has the audacity to go on and on about how he hates B’s lies, only to turn around and lie to his own team.” Throwing your arms up dramatically, you let out a frustrated sigh. “And I tell him! Every time his secrets are brought to light, I tell him, Dick, why would you keep secrets from your team if you hate secrets? And you know what he says?“

Mr. Wayne continued to stare at you. You gave him a reassuring smile and answered your own question, “he says, I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“… Wow,” was all the man could mutter.

“Deep down, he knows you were trying to keep him safe,” you explained, heart squeezing as you thought about your best friend. “Because it’s the same thing he would’ve done.”

Another puff of air came from Mr. Wayne, though it sounded more humorous than the last one. “You always knew him better. Probably could predict his next move before he even thinks to make it.” Any fondness that he held in his face turned stone cold. “… It’s been hard. Without you, I mean. It’s been hard for him, for me, for everyone. If only…” he cut himself off, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I… this must be uncomfortable for you.”

A frown tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched him straighten up. “It’s okay, Mr. Wayne… I understand. It’s… probably better to get everything off of your chest, right? Maybe it’ll help with healing?”

“… You’re not (Y/N),” the man uttered, voice barely above a whisper. It was hard to tell if he was speaking to you or himself, so you didn’t respond (it was hard to tell if you even had the right to respond). Taking a few steps towards the doorway, he gave you a solemn look. “I… apologize for putting you in an awkward position, with mentioning Dick and all, but I just wanted to give you a word of warning.”

“A word of warning,” your flat voice echoed.

He nodded, fiddling with his sunglasses. “He’ll show up here eventually when he obtains the address. It’s… inevitable, and I know I can’t do anything to stop it. But… when he does…” a small pause, “be careful with what you say.”

Though he didn’t elaborate, you knew exactly what he meant; don’t give Dick any false hope. A heavy lump formed in your throat as you tried to give a response. “Of course… I will.”

And, with that, Bruce Wayne was out the door.

Your first encounter with this universe’s Bruce Wayne was officially over. This was a crazy week (to say the least), but you never thought that your next VIP visitor would be Bruce Wayne. And he seemed… very unstable. Which you totally understood; you’re a parallel version, or alternate dimension version, or a whatever version of a very dead (Y/N), and that (Y/N) was close to a lot of people (including Batman, apparently?). It didn’t help that he and Dick must’ve had a fight quite recently, and you could only imagine how hard it was to admit to your son that you were keeping secrets… for his protection… again. Yeah, you don’t blame him for that tiny pity party he had.

Putting billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne aside for a moment, your thoughts went to Dick.

He’s trying to come see you.

You had… absolutely no idea how to feel about this. Part of you was excited, relieved even, to see his face. After an entire week of not seeing your best friend’s face, it would calm you down significantly. But… of course… this wasn’t your best friend; this was another (Y/N)’s best friend. And that (Y/N) is… no longer here. Excitement boiled into dread very quickly at the thought. This Dick Grayson knew you weren’t his (Y/N) (L/N)… so why would he want to come see you? At first, you thought it might’ve been for closure. While you weren’t his (Y/N), you were still (Y/N) in general, and maybe seeing you would be enough to help him… move on.

The thought sounded nice… but you knew Richard John “Dick” Grayson better than that.

Dick is a very defensive person… especially when it comes to the honor of his friends. If things start getting rough, you can practically see him put his shields up. And if he feels like things have gone too far, he’ll go fully offensive. You’ve seen it happen countless of times with you and the Titans, where he steps in with a sharp tongue and fists ready to fly whenever some unlucky jerk comes after one of you.

This Dick Grayson wasn’t your Dick Grayson, but judging from your conversation with Mr. Wayne, he’s pretty dang similar in both worlds. And if this world’s (Y/N) was his friend…

Then you’re the unlucky jerk coming after them.

[vind3miat0r]

Hush EA spoilers

(also a whole lot of word vomit. and for once its not copied and pasted from texts i sent to my boyfriend)

I TOLD YALL I TOLD YALL VEGA WASNT DEAD!!

okay wow theres a LOT to unpack here. uhm.

so the general theory that demons dont go to Death when they die has been confirmed!! yippee!! their magic just gets scattered to the winds and it seems like its up to someone to stitch said magic back together in order to revive(?) the demon that was killed. yay!!

taking a moment to talk about Hush because HUSHH?? Hush freaking out about how he killed Vega and how Vega confused him was just. heart-breaking. omg. i was expecting many things today, but not Hush of all people having a breakdown. that really hit too close to home </3

now, Hush mentioned something when talking about Vega: he used the term "anacruses" to refer to our beloved manipulator. hello? sudden lore drop?? question mark??

more lore drops is Hush talking about how he met Vega before he was formed, and how he thinks he wasnt supposed to remember the demon, and i quote: "But a part of me, a tiny echo within me is made of those who made me, and that’s the part of me that knows him. Knows… Vega. The daemon before the demon. The voice before the song broke from the stave. I don’t think I’m supposed to remember him."

focusing on the "voice before the song broke from the stave" part; i looked up the term "anacruses", and what i find interesting is that the word "anacrusis" popped up. "anacrusis" has multiple meanings, but one of them caught my eye: "one or more unstressed notes before the first bar line of a piece or passage."

now, i dont know much about instrument lore, but (correct me if im wrong) this is referring to music. personally, i think this is really interesting (this may be the autism speaking), because we know that d(a)emons have some sort of connection to the spellsong. im sure Gavin or Hush maybe explained it once, i cant really remember. we also know that Hush is literally the silence in the spellsong. the plural of "anacrusis" is "anacruses". you can see where this is going.

we know that Vega is really old. we know he was around before the Cacophony, which makes me think that he was one of the first daemons to be created. like, "within the first ten" kind of first. Hush calling Vega "one of the Anacruses" has me thinking some things.

firstly, the term "Anacruses" may just be a sort of title for d(a)emons who were created before the Cacophony. this is plausible, and i think it would make sense. it could also refer to d(a)emons who were created before the existence of the spellsong, maybe?

we dont know much about the spellsong, other than that its this non-corporeal thing that d(a)emons and Hush have a connection to (and if we really want to reach, the Sovereigns as well). we know that every empowered person's core has a "voice" in the spellsong, and that if said person dies, their "voice" goes silent.

we dont know when it was created, or how it was created. but the definition of "anacrusis" got me thinking... maybe the "Anacruses" daemons are the ones who created the spellsong. its a bit of a reach (thats an understatement that a very long reach), but i think it's plausible. its like FNAF lore: if you dont think about it, it makes sense.

you must be thinking, "wow vinn thats a lot of word vomit! what are you trying to say?" what i said a few paragraphs ago: "Anacruses" just means "old demon" but with significant lore and meaning attached to it. thats it.

(i really like how Erik's brain works — props to him for working this into the possible spellsong lore)

i dont really have much to say about Hush saying he existed before he... well existed. what i take from that is that he could have been a non-corporeal being who physically couldnt take a physical form until very recently. whatever created him took parts of themself to make him. i dunno, im still trying to understand it myself.

uhhh anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk, youve been a great audience as per usual :D

[ninyard]

Hey! Do you have specifics for your prompts? Do you want just one person or is a couple ok? If just one person could you do something with Seth? Maybe a what if he didn't die and got his shit together?

And if a couple Kevin and Seth getting along?

(I'm in my loving Seth era...)

Thank you for sharing your writing, you are awesome!

THANK YOU okay so here’s what I offer you: Seth survives and nobody believes him when he says he didn’t do it (but Kevin can’t live with himself if he doesn’t tell him he knows who did) TW: drugs, suicide mention, overdose

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It was Halloween, and Seth was not stupid enough to think that the bar would be quiet. Wall to wall bodies in costumes, a fire hazard waiting to happen, he wasn’t even sure they would get in, but when the bouncer noticed him and Allison at the back of the line, he waved them up and let them go ahead. He was a decent guy like that. A larger man with a buzz cut, tattoos creeping up his neck, donning a pair of devil horns on his head for the night that was in it. He smiled at Seth when he entered the building.

It was his third drink in when he started to feel wrong. He chalked it up to too many sweaty people in one room, each ones body heat raising the temperature a few degrees. Only a minute after he noticed something felt wrong, did he really start to know that something was really wrong.

Allison had asked him if he was okay. He didn’t remember answering. One minute they were there, stood by a table they’d managed to squeeze their way over to, and the next he was sat on the cold and dusty sidewalk out the front, not enough cool air in the world enough to ease the growing nausea that grew from the pit in his stomach. “I feel like I’m coming up off a real fuckin’ bad pill.” At least, that’s what he thought he said, what he meant to say. He could barely hear his own voice, his neck not strong enough to hold up his head.

“Look at me, open your eyes.” Allison held his head in her hands. “Oh, your- what the fuck?” Seth wasn’t sure what she’d seen in his eyes, but her phone was in her hands, and then by her head, and then he woke up in the hospital two days later. For some reason he was surprised that Allison was still by his side, her hand wrapped so tightly around his, as if letting go would mean she would never hold it again. She didn’t look like she’d slept, or taken a break from crying, either, hair unkempt and out of her face, makeup non-existent. She was wearing his sweats with a hospital blanket across her lap, and she cried and kissed around the medical equipment when she finally got the courage to touch him. She was so gentle, like he would break; It felt like he would, more fragile than he’d been in a very, very long time.

Allison told him that he’d overdosed. His heart sank at that, disappointed in himself before he remembered that he hadn’t taken anything. Then he noticed the nurse sitting in the corner, who smiled his way. The psychiatric team came up not long after they were informed that he was awake. He was confused, but given his history, he wasn’t that surprised. He was surprised, however, when they told him what the concoction was that he’d overdosed on.

The blood test showed a toxic level of his anti-depressants, alongside traces of both heroin and painkillers that had been an opiate he favoured when he was actively using back in the day. He should’ve died. It was a miracle that somebody in the queue had naloxone in their bag, and they’d saved his life by administering it. He would never find out who they were, or why they’d helped him, but the consequences of surviving were much more painful that the death he would’ve never remembered anyway.

He wanted to die when Allison looked at him with tears in her eyes and whispered, “how could you do this to me?”, or when the psychiatry team asked him for the tenth time in an hour if he had plans of ending his life. He wanted to die when the nurses who had him on 24/7 suicide watch had to accompany him to the toilet, and when Dr. Dobson accompanied David to the hospital the day he was allowed to leave. They’d proposed an involuntary stay in a psych ward, but Betsy had managed to convince them to let him go.

Nobody wanted to hear it; somehow he’d overdosed on his own medication, and even when he counted out the pills and tried to prove that he hadn’t done it, nobody seemed to believe him. They only sent him this look of pity, as if a failed attempt was worse than a successful one, as if he was simply trying to cover for the fact it hadn’t worked. Allison tried her best to support him, but it was hard for her. She’d watched him seizing outside the bar, foaming at the mouth and choking on his own vomit. She’d sat in the ambulance as the paramedics resuscitated him the whole way to the hospital. Betsy told him she hadn’t left his side since he was admitted; and it was really difficult for her to watch him lying there with tubes and wires blocking her view. She’d broke down two days after they returned to campus, and begged him to just be honest, that there was no way he’d been coincidentally spiked with his own medication, one that had seizures at the top of the list of warnings. Even just doubling the dose of his meds had the potential to be fatal, and he knew that. He hadn’t been depressed for a long time. His meds worked, so much better than any of the others that he’d tried, and he wouldn’t have risked being taken off them by doing something so stupid for no reason at all. It felt as though he was being gaslit into believing he had in fact taken too many pills before leaving, but none of it made sense. He took his pills in the mornings. He had been clean from hard drugs for months. Even on the off-chance that he had taken a handful of the little circular pills, how did the heroin get there, the opiates he hadn’t touched in years?

He’d been curled up in a ball in the corner of the couch, alone in the dorm when a knock came at the door. It was no more than two weeks after the incident, and he’d just returned from a session with Betsy. He didn’t respond to the knock, but kept his eye on the door as it creaked open. The last person he expected to see peeking around it was Kevin, but there he was. He shut the door behind him and sat on the opposite side of the couch. If he tried to sit any further away, he would’ve fallen off.

“I’m not interested, man.” Seth glared at him. “Fuck your game, and fuck you if you’ve really just come in here to ask me to come back to practice.”

Kevin sighed and looked away. “That’s not why I’m here.” His hands were clasped together on his lap, thumb running over the opposite hands knuckles. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Seth snorted and threw his head back. “Yeah, right, asshole. You don’t give a shit.”

“Did you do it?” Kevin had paused for a second before blurting out the question. His eyes searched Seth’s for the truth, with his shoulders practically touching his ears and hands locked together as he stopped himself from fidgeting.

He laughed again, shifting positions so he was better facing him. His voice turned serious, and he pointed towards the door. “Leave my room.”

“I’ll believe whatever you say, I just have to know.”

“Oh, you have to, do you?” He said. He was angry, and after a draining session with Betsy, he couldn’t handle another person insinuating he was lying. “You don’t deserve a fucking thing. None of you do. Stop looking at me like that. Tell them all to stop fucking looking at me like that.”

“We’ve not friends, Seth, and I don’t give a shit about your history. But I know you didn’t do this.” Kevin considered his words. “Because I think that… If you didn’t do this to yourself, man, I think I know who did.”

Seth froze and sat up, far more alert than he’d been in days. “How dare you, you pretentious piece of shit? How fuckin’ dare you? Are you going to give a status report back to your little toddler squad, is that what this is? Finally your fucking…” He mimicked dangling something in front of his face. “Ammo? Something you have over me?”

“I get it.” Kevin didn’t look back to him. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me.”

“I haven’t trusted your crippled ass since the day we met.” Seth leaned forward. “But humour me, then. Who somehow knows exactly what meds my crazy ass is on, and tried to murder me in a packed bar, busiest night of the week? Because your explanation is bound to be better than mine.”

“I owe it to you to let you know.” Kevin lowered his voice. “But I can’t explain it. I just have to tell you that I think it was Riko.”

“Fuck off, now, or I’ll start screaming.” Seth was frustrated, feeling like the butt of a joke, feeling like Kevin was just trying to stab another dart into a board that was already full. “This is not a fucking joke. Al has to give me my pills because nobody trusts me with them right now. The shrink calls me twice a day. Everyone is so fuckin’ disappointed in me, man, I could’ve died, and you’re telling me your little bestie over there did it? You’re a coward, Kevin. You’re a fucking liar and a fucking coward.”

Kevin held up his scarred hand as if that was explanatation enough. “Neil humiliated him on live TV. He wouldn’t think twice about killing someone to get back at him. You’re an easy target.”

In all the chaos that had ensued, he’d forgotten about what Neil had said on Kathy’s show. None of it made sense to him, why he would be an easy target out of all of them, why, if Riko was capable of such a thing, he would go after him and not Neil himself. As if reading his mind, Kevin continued. “Neil’s too public now. He couldn’t have done it to him.”

“Who else believes this shit?”

Kevin held back on whatever he really knew, and settled for, “Anyone who understands it, agrees with me.”

“Explain it to me like I’m a helpless little kid.” Seth said, straight faced and seething. “Tell me how it could have possibly been him.”

“Did they check you for track marks?” Seth shook his head, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure. They’d seen the evidence of his pills in his system, and his charts said he was a past user. They didn’t have to, really. Everything they needed to know was right there in his blood work. “If you have a prescription out there, it’s not that hard to find out your meds. You wouldn’t even feel a needle through your clothes with so many people around you. Mix it with your drugs of choice and nobody is going to believe that you didn’t do it yourself.”

“You’re joking.” Seth repeated again, disbelief at how serious Kevin was, at how his face sunk as he spoke, how his eyes trailed off somewhere into the distance while he explained. “And you really believe that?” Kevin nodded. It was infuriating to Seth to finally hear something so outlandish still that actually made a little bit of sense. He knew himself he hadn’t done it, so why was it so hard to believe it had actually been someone else? It hadn’t happened by the grace of God. Somehow the drugs had gotten into his system, and by the amount they’d found, they hadn’t been there long before he’d lost consciousness. So he’d been spiked in the bar. It also made an annoying amount of sense that he’d been poked by a needle and not had something sprinkled into his drink, because Allison had been across from him the whole time they were there. She was smart with her drinks in that way, and she was always aware of wandering hands near their beverages. She would’ve noticed. “So he fuckin’ failed, then. What happens next? He’s gonna just, what, try again?”

“I don’t know.” He said. “I just had to let you know. You’ve been going crazy in here trying to understand it.”

“If I mention your theory to anyone other than your little gang, they’ll fuckin’ have me committed. They’re just waiting for an excuse.” Seth rested his head on his knees, his feet up on the couch. “Nobody is going to actually believe this other than you, you know that, right?”

“I’m sorry.” Kevin’s voice was small. “And for what it’s worth, I know what Riko is like, and you’re just a meaningless pawn in his game. I don’t see you that way. I don’t hate you like you think I do.”

“Don’t push it.” Seth grimaced. “You only tolerate me because your lineup can’t handle the loss of another body.”

“Maybe.” Kevin admitted, and Seth laughed, because he didn’t even try to hide that it was the truth. He didn’t say much else before nodding at Seth and leaving the room, and suddenly Seth felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulder and quickly replaced by another, heavier tonne of bricks. He hated Neil, he hated Kevin, he hated Riko. If it was the truth, if it really was him who’d orchestrated this whole thing, he’d fucked with his life in ways he didn’t even understand. He had people he cared about in his life, people he wanted to live for, but Riko was happy to ruin it all, all for the sake of petty revenge. For a week he’d been in some sort of state between withdrawals and a heavy craving to fall back into a hole he’d assumed he’d crawled out of for good. Nobody trusted him, and everyone looked at him differently, no matter how much they tried to hide it. He looked at himself differently, a brush with death an untimely reminder that his life was finite. He’d avoided death too many times, and his chances had to have finally been depleted. Riko didn’t know what he’d done to Seth’s bare minimum instinct of survival by fucking up and letting him live.

He had looked Kevin in the eye, as the only one who seemed to understand him when he felt like screaming from the rooftops it wasn’t fucking me! Kevin who he’d despised since the first time he opened his mouth, Kevin who was too good for them all, full of himself, in love with himself; he’d felt so alone since waking up in that hospital, and God, did it feel terrible that Kevin Day was the one person who seemed to understand.

[hyperfixationstati0n]

I had to write an alternate ending for a book for a class and obviously i did tbosas 😔 thought id post it here for shits and giggles

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His mind raced for a plausible explanation. Could he have been involved in a freak accident? A training death? He was cleaning a weapon, and maybe it went off by mistake? He landed on the only thing he could think of–the truth. Well, most of it.

“...Sejanus. I know I’m not the one who hung him but I felt responsible for him. He was like my brother…I-I should’ve been there to protect him. Keep him out of trouble like I said I would.”

Lucy Gray’s face softens, any trace of suspicion seeming to leave her body. Good, he was in the clear.

“Oh…Coryo, It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I brought it up, I should’ve figured.” She seals her apology with a kiss on his cheek and a sweet smile. “C’mon. It's hot and the lake is close now anyway. We can cool off.”

She grabs his hand and starts leading him along again, pulling the wagon behind them. He lets out a sigh of relief. Maybe he should’ve gone into acting, he thinks. But then again, what good did that do when the life ahead of him was just woods. Literally. He still can’t help but think about going back, but how would she react to that? He couldn’t. He was stuck in another meaningless life with a meanigless future.

Over the many nights they spent travling further north, he stayed up at night thinking about if he just stayed in 12, he could be on his way to district 2 right now, becoming an officer. He looks over at Lucy Gray’s joyful demeanor as they make their way up through the woods, and he finds as the weeks go on it brings him less and less comfort.

They never do find the people up North. Billy Taupe and the other rebels were wrong. Lucy Gray had been a fool for having a shred of hope, but he was the bigger fool for following in her footsteps. He was too far gone to ever make it back to District 12 alive. He kissed his hopes of that goodbye 30 miles ago.

Slowly, surely, the days turn into weeks. The weeks turn into months. He loses track, but he can tell by the growth of his hair that it's been almost a year. Resentment grows, but it only seems to grow in him. He snaps, losing his mind one night. He looks over at Lucy Gray, sleeping soundly in the dingy makeshift tent they had been living in for the past few weeks, and disappears into the night. He treks along in the dark until he feels something cool on the back of his neck. He looks up into the sky. Little white flecks start to fall over him. He’s immediately reminded of Dean Highbottoms words, although now they seem a lifetime ago. In a way, they were.

“Do you hear that, Coriolanus? It’s the sound of snow…falling.”

He resents the Dean for being right. He resents Sejanus and the other rebels for getting him in a big enough mess to have to run away. He resents Lucy Gray and her ever-growing love for him. He resents himself most. He could’ve been an officer, maybe made his way back to the Capitol and his family. But instead he was miles away from any sort of civilization. What a disgrace to the Snow name. He was a nobody.

Coriolanus never did make it back to 12. Or anywhere for that matter. He wandered and wandered as the blanket of snow crunches at his feet. He was far enough away that Lucy Gray wouldn’t find him until he was a pile of bones. And that's what he became. How ironic it was that he had the same fate of the Lucy Gray from the song–lost in the snow. A ghost story.

How much more ironic it was that the very thing he prided himself most in was his demise. The Hunger Games died out, and so with them did he.

The storm came on before its time

She wandered up and down

And many a-hill did Lucy climb

But never reached the town

In some strange twist of fate, Snow still landed on top

AN: i’m not sure how i feel about this but i didn’t have anything new to post. i hope you guys liked it but feedback would be much appreciated 🫶

[synthetickitsune]

you write a lot for soohyuk, i was wondering if you’d consider writing for park joongil? his mom was awful in that past life and i can imagine her wanting to marry him off again and that relationship with his second wife would be so painful and sad and your guidelines say you are open to writing angst so if you do consider this thank you very much!

Anon I love you for this idea?? I wish my writing skills were better to do it justice but this concept is the perfect angst material?

Park Joonggil (Tomorrow) | Married again angst | 0.7k TW: mentions of suicide

Watching your husband, separated only by a few steps as the cold air makes its way inside the house through the open door, there’s a tight feeling crushing your chest.

Standing right under the edge of the roof, only a breath away from the falling rain, Joonggil’s just a husk of his past self. You’ve heard about the fate of his late wife - who hasn’t. So many see it as the best thing that could happen, his own mother included. You’ve always wondered if they’re all blind. Because as tragic as death inevitably is, the loss of life before one passes is all the more painful.

Blind but not stupid, nobody expected your marriage to be easy. On the contrary, however, it’s been smooth sailing so far. Perhaps you’re sharing the last speck of fortune that you were given.

Anyway, the marriage works well. You were never suited to be a wife, to carry and care for a child, the household, and so when Joonggil approached you on your wedding night and as respectfully as he could expressed that he won’t be able to give you a child, nor the love you’re worthy of, it came as a bittersweet relief.

You care for each other, sure, but that’s about the extent of it. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t developed any feelings at all for the man. They’re a luxury you can’t afford, a guilty pleasure to indulge in whenever Joonggil brings you a gift from the travels duty sends him on. When he hands the objects to you, the smile never reaches his eyes. You’ve wondered more times than you can count whether there was ever an unspoken this made me think of you behind the gesture, or if they are just to keep appearances. 

You’re not naive enough to hope.

A part of you, one set on hurting you, wishes you could’ve met his previous wife. Joonggil never speaks of her, which is understandable, and you don’t push him, you don’t ask. Nonetheless, you’re curious. How unique that person must’ve been to capture Joonggil’s heart so? How wonderful she must've been that her death left behind a hollow shell of a man? You've only stopped doubting love is real after you've witnessed his devotion. How painful it is that you're not the object of it.

Sometimes you believe he wishes he'd have died with her. Other times you wonder whether, maybe, if you died people would believe him cursed and finally let him be alone and mourn the loss of the love of his life as he wishes. Even if that was the case, however, you could never take your life. You know that his mother would only push for another wedding. And more importantly, you could never do that to him. 

He still gets woken up by nightmares. Even tonight.

You know he can feel your eyes on him and so you get up. He's not stupid. You know he knows. But you have to keep up the charade. You're careful not to dirty your clothes as you step outside.

"y/n, go back to bed. The night is cold," he speaks without turning towards you.

Your name. Not wife like he used to call her - an information bestowed upon you by his mother. Apparently all that she does and says has to have a victim. Something to torment.

"Come back inside, Joonggil," you ignore his advice, "You're leaving tomorrow and you need strength."

He sighs.

"I'll be just a minute," he finally looks at you, giving you a slow nod. You return it, and just like that, you do as he’s told you.

Polite, short conversations, the usual. Come morning, he'll be gone before you can wake up. It hurts. Night seems to be the only time you can talk freely, without curious eyes and ears spying you. The rejection stings more for that.

Maybe it's for the best that he's leaving.

You’ll dutifully play the role of a wife missing her husband and you’ll play it well. It's the only role you play without pretending.

[harbingerofsillies-reblogs]

You know it's bad when you make a playlist about the hyperfixation

Anyway I tried to put songs I didn't see on other playlists cause I feel like everyone defaults to mother mother

Some highlights under the cut, i would put them all if i didn't have a 30 images limit lol

I like to put songs in order based on the chronological order of the story so the mood of the lyrics actually fits the vibe and all

Also so many of these are Toga POV

The Garden is a song about being queer in a religious community and idk I feel like Togachako's whole "weird" thing they had going on was also for being queer and anyway, Ochako repressed her feelings a lot and I like to see this verse as Himiko telling her to stop repressing herself

I can only imagine this as them talking to each other cause some things fit Himiko and some Ochako and this song generally just makes me depressed tbh

They're so Dear Arkansas Daughter coded. The "as my love for you dies" are Himiko after Ochako tells her she deserves whatever's coming to her.

Himiko again, same thing as before.

Still Himiko cause despite it all, despite how mad and angry and "that's strange cause I don't think about you anymore" she's still hung up about it.

This one is both of them tbh

Depending on the verse it fits them both

Himiko during the second war with the sad man's death parade

Their fight in general tbh

This song is about a relationship that's basically over but neither of the people in the relationship actually end it and like,,, Himiko,,,, cause Togachako was doomed and Himiko didn't want anything to do with Ochako but Ochako wouldn't let her quit and kept reaching for her,,,

Himiko.

I'm still replaying my strangers edit in my head 24/7 like it's rotating inside a microwave. (Also this song's actual meaning is definitely not romantic but the theme of cannibalism with these two breaks me cause like,,, yeah Ochako lived in the end but imagine her body reacted badly for a bit to Himiko's blood like,,, "If i'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick",,, i fucking love this song,,,)

both.

Ochako cause she could literally spot her tears in a sea of clones.

Do I even need to explain myself.

Francesca by Hozier THE love song. Also obvious Ochako pov along with the next few songs.

This song is SO important to me, no one gets "we'll never have sex" like I do ok- that said: Himiko.

Ochako. I'm making myself cry over my own playlist.

I literally plan on tattooing this song on my skin, NO ONE GETS HUNGER LIKE I DO, again Himiko, I'm starting to see a pattern maybe I kin her.

Between two lungs is about sharing a breath during a kiss literally and i feel like it fits their blood transfusion so badly-

Himiko's resolve as she dies happily. I'm in denial sure but it's what happened. But I'm in denial.

Ochako's grief process yay (kill me)

The end. I'm sad. I'm gonna go cry.

[swanmaids]

Hi, I was just wondering if you have any Findis and/or Lalwen headcanons if you'd like to share :)?

Ooh good question. Honestly I kind of feel bad because I don’t really think about these two all that much? Like I have a few thoughts but not many. I'd have more thoughts if Jirt had done more with their characters! But, anyway...

Findis interests me as an eldest royal daughter in a patriarchal society that practices male primogeniture. I'm sure it was clear to her pretty much all her life that her father favoured Feanor, but she may have been able to justify that as being down to his mother's death. But after Fingolfin was born -- how long did it take for her to realise that they would never be truly equals? This unfairness is why I headcanon her as favouring the vanyarin side of her heritage -- she turns to piety and religion as an escape. Perhaps the vanyar have some sort of priestess system that allows her to gain some power there. For some reason, I imagine Findis' religious duties as similar to a Vestal Virgin (though minus the burials....) maybe she's especially devoted to Este?

Despite everything, she never stopped loving her parents and wanting their approval and to do right by them, which is why she stays with her mother during the flight of the Noldor. I think there's a part of her that never forgives her siblings for (in her eyes) "abandoning" Indis.

Lalwen... unfortunately I have more thoughts about my lady's maid oc for her than I do for Lalwen herself :( sorry girlie

I do think it’s interesting that Fingolfin and Lalwen are canonically close, I like that. I imagine she was a comfort to him during the unrest of the Noldor (I imagine they become close as adults when Feanor was exiled) and crossing the Ice. Was she aware of how much Nolo needed her and did that ever become a burden on her? Quite possibly, and I'm not sure who she would have gone to in order to relieve that. I do think that she and Aredhel could have been close, and probably Elenwe too - maybe she was one of the people to be most affected by Elenwe's death. I think Lalwen was also a fighter, and died fighting in the fall of Hithlum in the Nirnaeth.

Since I mentioned canon patriarchy, maybe part of Lalwen's motivation for leaving Aman was a hope that Beleriand would be more egalitarian.

I've noticed that lesbian Lalwen hcs are pretty common and I think I agree! I think she had a fair few lovers and some long-term girlfriends in Beleriand, but had no serious romantic relationships. Her major love was her maid Morniel, but she was aware that Morniel did not reciprocate, so she never acted on it.

You didn't ask about her, but after being a Faniel denialist for the longest time, I might now be a Faniel truther after reading this headcanon of her being born after Finwe followed Feanor into exile and due to mutual parental stubbornness, never meeting her father. That's sooooo juicy I love it.

[faelynfawn]

OKAY SO IM DUMB ANDI PUT IT IN THE TAGS kajdjsjsd

ANYWAYS. scar x bdubs, set during the king Ren timeline while they were part of his square table

Apologies this took so long. As with the other drabble prompts, this just became a oneshot.

AO3 link.

----

“Why’d you make Ren king anyway?”

The question startled Bdubs. He and Scar had been quietly enjoying riding some horses together, he hadn’t really expected conversation.

Especially not about that.

“Same as why I made you mayor!”

 Scar hummed, “Really? I don’t remember the death games having been a thing back then—especially not one where I was mayor.”

“It wasn’t about that.”

“If I were anyone else I’d believe that. Anyone but- uh, the winners anyway.”

The amount of time they all spent in the death games, the more they remembered. It seemed to stack, after each new game they could remember the old ones better.

What stayed the same no matter how many games they played was that your placement impacted your emotional attachment. Nothing but winning would change how much a previous game meant to you.

The only people who felt stronger about the first game than Bdubs did was Scar and Grian. But even then, Scar had died maybe half an hour after he did. It was basically the same as far as they could tell.

“It’s… It’s stupid,” Bdubs said eventually, “I-… I just… Ren’s a good guy. I miss being able to look at him and not see the Red King.”

“Me too.”

“Oh. Oh, Scar, I didn’t even think about you and Grian-”

“Bdubs,” Scar said, “Sure, a bit of forewarning would’ve been nice, but we’re fine. I’m more confused than anything else.”

Bdubs still felt a bit bad. He really hadn’t thought about them at all. He was glad they were alright. If it wasn’t, he was sure they would have brought it up by now.

Scar, especially, wouldn’t have become a knight in the King’s court if it had been upsetting him.

“Well, why’d you join Ren’s side?”

Scar tugged on the reigns, pulling his horse to a stop. Bdubs stopped as well, turning his horse to face him.

Scar’s beautiful face was scrunched into a frown, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him at all. It probably hadn’t. He really wasn’t one for introspection, especially not about anything that related to the desert. Bdubs was pretty sure he and Grian still hadn’t talked about it.

It was a bit striking, to see Scar pause and think and want to give a real answer. He could remember a time not too long ago where his question would have been met with a smirk and witty comment.

It warmed Bdubs’ heart.

“Hadn’t thought about it.”

“Mm?” He hummed. He didn’t want to press.

Even now it was easy for Scar to fall into old habits, to not even consider vulnerability as an option. If Scar ended up not wanting to talk about it, that was still worlds better than what used to happen.

“I think that, at first, it was because I didn’t want to kill him again. Obviously we know there’s going to be a resistance. I just… I see him, sometimes, his body.”

Oh.

Bdubs knew Scar had killed Ren, he knew that. He just hadn’t really thought about it.

“I see yours too.”

“Oh, Scar.”

“What about you? Why make him king?”

Bdubs didn’t really feel like leaving that comment so soon, but he knew it must have been hard to admit. They’d have time later. “Cause… Well, he’s not exactly the Red King anymore, is he? I kept expecting a cloak and crown every time I heard his voice. I thought giving him one would help. A different cloak, a different crown, a different king from a different setting. If I’m going to think of him as the king, I want to think of—of that!” He pointed to the edge of the billboard that was just barely visible from where they were positioned, “I don’t want to think of running back inside the crastle and—and calling out to Cleo that I’ve got her stuff and--…”

“You didn’t realise it was her final death.”

“…It’s fuzzy but… It’s one of the clearest moments I have. Can’t even remember who told me but someone said it and my stomach just dropped.”

Silence hung for a few moments after that, before Scar realised he was done talking, “It’s been nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have Ren and king mean something else. The first time I saw him in his get up I… I kind of freaked out a bit, to be honest.”

“Scar! You said it was okay!” Bdubs felt horrible.

“Because I thought it would be! And it is okay—it is now! It—…it helped a lot. Now King Ren means all that stuff! With the billboard! I’m glad you did it, really.”

“But?” Bdubs wasn’t sure there was a but, but if there was he needed to know.

Scar sighed, “I try not to think about the desert, is all. I don’t know if it’s cause it was our first game and we all thought it was permadeath or if its cause I was second or what.”

Bdubs was beginning to get the impression Scar was skirting around something.

“Well, what’s the what, Scar?”

“Nothing! Just…”

“Mhm?”

Scar always got this look in his eyes when he desperately needed to just say something but was too scared to. It was something Bdubs never really knew for sure how to deal with. Cub was the only person who could reliably help him work past that. Grian and Mumbo could sometimes, and once in a blue moon someone else could do it too.

Bdubs cursed every single person who ever made Scar feel like talking about his problems was basically the same as signing his own death warrant.

“Do you want to know what I remember most?” The words came in a quick burst. Scar’s face was flushed a bright red.

“What?” Bdubs prompted quickly, not wanting him to lose momentum.

“The way I died. The final time, I mean. It’s embarrassing!”

“Huh?”

Bdubs had never heard any details about it. In fact, all he remembered was Scar back in season seven swearing up and down it was the one thing he could not remember for the life of him.

“I just--… I try not to think about it. I don’t want- I don’t want the desert to shape who I am or how I interact with people.”

Hang on. This was familiar. Bdubs had seen Scar react like this to something before.

This was exactly how he used to behave around Bdubs back before they did anything about their mutual attraction. He used to pull this reaction out of Scar whenever he dropped his voice just right and complimented him.

“You enjoyed it!”

Scar flicked the reigns and tutted to the horse, signalling it to get moving, “I think that’s enough conversation for today!”

“You did enjoy it!” Bdubs laughed as he followed after Scar.

“You have no proof!”

“Proof’s in your face. You ever told Grian that?”

“Oh please don’t tell Grian! He’ll never let me live it down. Ever.”

“You think I will?”

[signed-sapphire]

OKAYYYYY. @your-ne1ghbor, I love you for these wonderful questions. Tumblr, FUCK YOU FOR DELETING THIS DRAFT FOUR TIMES.

Ahem. I swear if this deletes again I’m going to stab something. Maybe Asha’s parents.

Anyways, I’m going to break this up for easier comprehension.

Light versus dark magic

This is going to be quicker because if this deletes again I SWEAR I’M SCREAMING buuuuut, at first I thought about doing light v dark magic like @oh-shtars, with dark magic being the same, but quicker and at a cost.

Then I thought about how Stars work in the TFS universe.

And I decided that magic comes from emotions. The stronger the emotion, the more powerful the spell. If magic is casted with good intentions and reaps good consequences, it’s considered light magic.

For example! Magnus taking the wishes of Rosas. He has good intentions— keeping them safe— and reaps good consequences— Stars don’t attack and kill them. Thus, light magic.

A good example of dark magic would be Maleficent cursing baby Aurora. Bad intentions— jealousy, bitterness— with bad consequences— death of an innocent child. So it’s dark magic.

The use of dark magic warps its wielder. Magic is a living thing, it breathes and lives in every living thing. But dark magic, full of ill intent, can poison its user and make their heart dark. It also curses their appearance, whether it be slow or fast, slowly corrupting them.

That's my hc on why a lot of Disney villains don't look human. I'm scrapping the idea of "bad guys based off of queer people bc being gay = bad" and changing it to this because I said so

A good example of the distinction between the two would be Elsa's magic. When she's happy and safe, she uses light magic.

However... her fear. It’s too powerful of an emotion to be handled with light magic. The only way to contain it is via jagged, sharp icicles of dark magic.

Therefore, her striking Anna in the heart was dark magic.

Bad consequences, bad emotions, "bad" magic.

I truly think if Anna had died, Elsa would’ve succumbed to dark magic and become the Snow Queen from the original tale.

So why does Maggy take the wishes?

Magnus uses magic for two things:

To maintain the barrier around Rosas

To take people’s wishes and turn them into wish orbs

Both of these things are to protect Rosas from attacking Stars. I went into it a bit here, but Stars can sense ungranted wishes. Taking those wishes and storing them away prevents Stars from seeing them and attacking. But just in case, a barrier surrounds Rosas, tinting the sky a beautiful pastel purple.

It’s been established Magnus has light magic. He’s keeping his people safe, giving them shelter and a chance to have a good, unbiased Wishgranter.

Surely taking people’s wishes, no matter the intent, is still okay! Taking their drive and spark doesn’t make them feel as if something is missing from their life! This has no bad consequences whatsoever!

Do Magnus and Amaya hate the stars? Why?

It’s… complicated.

For Magnus, at least.

He didn’t have the most lavish life before the Stars. He had a small circle and liked it that way. He wasn’t the best person, but he did what needed to be done.

Then the Stars attacked, and killed the only one he cared for.

But still, Magnus knows that without that incident, he never would’ve met Asha or Amaya, and never would’ve founded Rosas and saved so many other people from experiencing the same grief he has. The Stars deserve no love or empathy, but if he could rewrite time, he… wouldn’t.

Amaya, on the other hand? Definitely. She had a big family, with lots of siblings and nieces and nephews. She left them all to pursue her dreams of potion making, and came back to not a village, but a pile of ash.

There weren’t even any bodies left to bury.

She hates them.

Can Amaya do magic as well?

Magic may be in every being, but only a few can naturally harness it. Magnus’ magic capabilities were passed down generationally (ha), while Amaya’s wasn’t. But she studied magic, and to make potions work, you have to understand the magic in them.

However, she can cast a simple fire or levitation spell in a pinch.

Did they ever teach Asha any form of magic?

Asha is also one of the people who has to learn magic in order to master it. However, magic is a fickle thing and doesn’t like her intentions. But Asha has a workaround! Surely, when she turns eighteen, she can just wish to become a great sorceress!

…

…right?

How did Cielo get to earth?

I went into that a bit here :3

[adolin]

Who are the Houses fighting, anyway?

Thinking about the Cohort and the Houses’ endless military campaign in TLT. Thematically, I love the idea of John being at war for thousands of years with the descendants of those who betrayed him etc., but in practice, the logistics of the war just... don't make sense.

We know the Houses have been at war for a long time. Thousands of years, an insane amount of time fighting the same war. “Eternal war” could be a plausible scenario between two similarly-sized forces locked in a stalemate, but this hasn’t been shown to be the case. It would maybe be plausible if the Houses were shown to have a super ineffective offence force, but this again isn’t the case.

Troop casualties seem to be relatively common (lots of "went to the Cohort and died” mentioned) but at the same time is a massive fucking deal in HtN that BoE destroyed three ships and took out eighteen thousand people. It throws the entire into disarray and warrants a sudden reassignment of the Emperor’s Guard to the combat front to make up for it. So yes, their conquest strategy relies very heavily on sending in the infantry to die, but not to the point that every battle is a slaughter or those numbers wouldn’t cause that reaction. They seem to be a fairly effective force, and and before canon era they hadn’t lost a ship in a THOUSAND years.

Speaking of conquests. A lot of the fighting “lore” that is mentioned in the series involves ground fighting and planetary conquests, but all of the action that is actually described as having happened in the series was either putting down uprisings or dealing with fringe groups. Blood of Eden are an insurrection movement, not an enemy force, and no inhabited planets are mentioned that are outside House control. They are not a conquering force, they are an occupying force. That we know of.

So who exactly are they fighting? Actually who even is left to fight? Like, at some point, you HAVE to run out of planets to conquer. You HAVE to run out of non-House humans to subdue — and travelling cosmic distances without necromancy is very hard. The FTL ships and their descendants can’t have spread that far; they were strained for resources, jumping blind, and I doubt they had an easy time of it.

Some speculation:

Aliens. Like, I’m sure this is not the case, but everything would make SO much more sense if they were fighting an alien empire the next galaxy over, and the ongoing occupation of BoE planets and Empire building is part of that. I give it a 0% possibility of being true but still. Aliens.

Massive unreliable narrator failure. There IS a space empire next door built by humans but nobody mentions it because it didn’t have tits so Gideon didn’t care and everyone knows anyway.

Plot hole. Even the best authors have ‘em! Let Tamsyn live.

Free square ????

Enigmatic John Quote of the Post:

[Talking about the death of Dominicus if he were to die] I can only hope you’d all be dead already. Oh, there’d still be Cohort ships … hold planets … a scattering of us … but we would be so few, and so many people hate us, and my work is not yet done.

WHOMST, John. Notably, all through HtN he keeps talking about the tattered remains of Blood of Eden slithering out of the shadows, a group of maniacs, died with Wake etc. so I doubt he means them. So. WHO.