BRANZY LEFT LIFESTEAL!?!? WHAT THUS BULLSHIT

BRANZY LEFT LIFESTEAL!?!? WHAT THUS BULLSHIT

I DONT WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE

I keep picturing Achilles and Patroclus holding back a sobbing Polites from Odysseus as he says “THEN I’LL BECOME THE MONSTER” in the Underworld.

Achilles, who always hated Odysseus for his holier-than-thou attitude as his men died and Odysseus’s lived; Patroclus, who couldn’t bare the pain of his people and took measures to make sure he would end the war or die to make sure Achilles would end it; and Polites, their old friend, now having joined them (who also sacrificed himself for the man he loved) and is now watching the man he died for descend into the madness he would give anything to save him from

And then secret life happened

Can I... talk about the theory that winners help craft the next game?

Because, and I really can not say this enough, it puts So Much into perspective.

Everything starts out Normal. Three lives, simple, cut and dry, there hasn't been a winner yet. No one to help craft the game. (And there's something to be said about how simple it really was. Not even a real expectation of the world becoming pvp or combative. No idea of the war to come)

Then Grian wins. The green killer, the man who vowed his first life to the one whose life he took. The next game the boogie man is born. A mechanic that allows and, in fact, demands, a green kill. People can trade lives back and forth, currency and debt wrapped up in one. (can we still be friends? Said the red partner. A life time later and reds are hostile, alone. Maybe it's an answer: No. Not anymore)

Scott wins this time. He refuses to play the game. He will not kill his team, he will love and he will do so fiercely and with all of himself. The next game people are attached through to their very souls. Every bit of damage to one soul is done to its twin. There is no boogeyman. (There is no way for a widow to be left without their love)

Pearl wins and she wins a blood bath. Spent the game draped in red, only wolves for company. Sitting in her tower, shivering in ice, maybe she wanted it to end. To see where it would. Limited life rewards you for killing, limited life has a clock tick tick ticking down, you always no how long you have. A curse yes, but a blessing too.

Now It's Martyn's turn.

And what a turn it is.

Keep your secrets, says the disloyal man, keep them well. Everything hurts, everything Matters, says the man fracturing with every loss. (What if we could love each other without hurting? Says The Hand, who never wanted to be coated in blood)

More importantly, Martyn has always seen the watchers below the surface. Now, they're right here in front of him. Something that could almost... be rebelled against, no? Something that someone else could finally point to and say: hey, hey isn't that familiar?

ANNABETH WISHED SHE HAD AN APPETITE, because the Romans knew how to eat.-Annabeth

(yes this is an actual quote)

The above line implies that the Greeks DON'T know how to eat. Dear uncle Rick,HAVE YOU SEEN ANY GREEK OERSON EVER!?!

most of our celebrations are just excuses so we can eat

"After all, don't forget, we're friends!"