#lwrites

And the blood slowed and the heart emptied and everything stopped.

It goes like this:

There is a game

It goes like this:

There is a man

It goes like this:

The game starts

The game will take what you offer

The game will take what you don't

The game wants you and holds you and and and

It goes like this:

The man is alive

The man has a full heart

The man shares

The man steals

The man keeps and saves and and and

It goes like this:

One is given and dies

One is sold and dies

One falls and dies

One is shredded and dies

One withers and dies

One loves and-

It goes like this:

Why did you look back, Orpheus?

Did you love him too much?

He was behind you the whole time

And the arrow sings and the bow creaks and the grass grows red, red, red.

The Roles We Play: Someone from Lena’s past shows up, and Kara finds herself playing the role of Lena’s “girlfriend”.  

The water ran deep and dark at the bottom of the valley, it’s warped obsidian surface reflecting only the pale, sorrowful face of the moon. Etho sat on it’s shore, legs crossed and fishing rod in hand. He had yet to cast it.

He knew he shouldn't be here, alone. The reds were still on the prowl, and death was grabbing at the remaining players with hungry hands, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Or, Etho did care- but he cared about this more. His lives ached inside his chest, begging to be let free. He couldn't tell if it was from the greedy call of the world knowing its prey was reaching its end, or if it was the guilt. If his lives knew where they should be, instead of where they were.

A breeze skittered past, ruffling his hair and causing the line of his fishing rod to sway gently. It fractured the moon in the water, drowning wisps of its light before passing on and letting the moon bob back to the surface.

Etho watched the moon struggle to regain its shape. It's going to drown, a voice in his head whispered. Can you save it?

Etho's eyes flickered to the fishing rod held loosely in his hand. It's grip felt worn and familiar, its silvery line strong and durable. But it wasn't quite long enough. He could try, but what was the point of fishing with a faulty line, a faulty hand?

Another breeze skipped through, rippling the water and tearing the moon apart once more. A chill ran down Etho's spine, his grip tightening on the fishing rod. Look, the voice said, it cannot float when it is in pieces. Put it back together or let it die.

Etho felt his breath hitch unevenly as the moon slowly fought to reassemble and rise to the surface of the river once more. He wanted to save it. He wanted to walk into the water, he wanted to pull the moon from the grasping dark, he wanted to hold it together and let it be whole. But the river was shadow, the space behind thoughts, and if he entered it, it would rip him apart and drag him down too.

A third breeze. It was stronger than the last two, and it sent the moon spinning into pinpricks of light, all but disappearing. It's okay, the voice whispered as Etho squeezed his eyes shut, you don't have to watch. It'll be back.

A sob escaped his throat. His hearts pounded painfully against his chest, urging him to do something, anything. But he couldn't. He couldn't move, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe.

All Etho could do was feel, feel the splintering wood, the hot tears, the cold wind. Look, said an impossible voice.

No one said it would hurt this much, like the heat of a sun, setting ablaze to his veins, his chest. Look up, a voice couldn't have said.

Etho never even gave him a life, a heart, so how did he somehow end up holding both, holding them so tightly that even now, even after they are still clutched in his open hands, burning like stars in the empty sky-

LOOK UP, YOU IDIOT! said a voice that didn't exist.

Something smacked Etho across the face. His eyes snapped open with a gasp, the cool night air filling his lungs. A sharp pain stabbed through his hand, and Etho scrambled to his feet, wildly looking for his assailant. After a moment of panic he heard a low creaking sound, and Etho looked hesitantly down at the fishing rod. His grip on it was so tight that it had splintered, cutting into his hand. Slowly Etho loosened his grip, and gently placed the fishing rod on the ground.

That was when he saw it. A hat. It must've been caught in the wind, and so it hit him as it flew past. He picked it up to examine. The hat was purple and pointy like a witch's, with a floppy wide brim, and it had an orange sash wrapped around it. He flipped it over to check the inside for any identifying markers. In the dim light of the moon he read:

To: STUPID

From:

Etho couldn't read whatever followed the "From". It looked like a name had been written, unraveled from the current universe, then scribbled out. It made his head hurt just looking at it, but he couldn't help the watery grin that spread underneath his mask.

He put the hat on his head and looked up. The full moon lay heavily in the night sky, firm and unmoving. It's safe now, no one whispered, and it thanks you.

"But I didn't save it," Etho whispered back.

But you loved it, nothing said fondly. That was enough.

Then empty space was replaced with something, and Etho was alone. His hearts beat solidly in his chest, full.

Etho chuckled, and wiped at his eyes. He made sure the hat was secure on his head, and picked up his fishing rod. It's handle was broken, but the line was still intact, so maybe he'd be able to salvage it.

He glanced at the moon one last time, and the moon glanced back.

Two weeks.

It has been two weeks since Quackity had come. Two weeks since he had seen gleaming blades and sharp edges. Two weeks since he had felt Quackity's rage slowly rip him apart, ever eager for more.

Two whole weeks.

In those two weeks he had started to feel his wounds close, slowly healing in ways that hadn't been allowed before with the daily visits.

Two weeks since he'd been lonely. Quackity frequently used to visit, Sam more rarely, but when they came they didn't relieve his loneliness, they amplified it.

His isolation, of course was mostly self imposed, and he stood by it. But the feeling of powerlessness that came when someone else decided what he could and couldn't have was infuriating.

The cool trickle of rage inside him pushed back against the smothering heat of the cell, and gave him something to cling to. It was the fuel that kept him going through the never ending dusk.

If he ever saw Quackity outside, he'd grab him by the face and stick his hand so far down his throat that he could pull his throbbing, pulsing heart out of his mouth.

But nevermind all that. He wasn't lonely anymore. He wasn't even alone. He'd known that this was coming- that *he* was coming- but it was another thing entirely to see him in the flesh.

Technoblade.

For two weeks Technoblade has been trapped in hell with him. It's been... Bearable. Technoblade makes him laugh, in an odd sort of way. Small laughs, pushing up out of his mouth like a bubble to escape. It's been a while since he's laughed like that.

That's not to say he hasn't found amusement in the prison before, but that laughter was like thorns, ripping from his throat, a sound that was a sharp, rusty knife. It was one of his few remaining weapons. He knew he had driven Sam slightly mad with it before, twisting it deeper and deeper in Sam's exposed heart, Tommy's blood still staining him red.

Technoblade was a breath of fresh air, and when they were talking, it lessened the stifling heat of his- their- cage. He was frustrating sometimes, but he knew that Technoblade was just adjusting to a new permanence.

Most of all, Technoblade treated him like a person. Not some fallen idol, not a heartless monster, but a human. His former self would've hated that- he wasn't a human, he was beyond human, he was a God- but his current self relished in it. Most days he felt like nothing. Everyday Quackity came, he would drift further and further from himself, his only tether his anger. The kind treatment grounded him.

There was still a power imbalance, however. Before, he and Technoblade were Gods among pitiful creatures with weak, frail hearts that would deliciously bend and bend and bend and break and break and break. But now... He was no fool. While they both may be on equal footing inside, on the outside Technoblade had people. People who would kill and destroy to get Technoblade back.

Because of this Technoblade had armor, built by many hands, and crafted from love and trust. Sometimes he could almost see it glimmer in the dim purple light of the crying obsidian, or the hot orange light of the lava. He had discarded his own armor long ago, and forged a new set. A set whose few chinks and gaps were known only to him. It was safer that way.

He pried from time to time. He'd push at spots on Technoblade to see if he yield, or close up. Secrets can be spilled through silence just as much as through words. Sometimes when Technoblade slept, he'd watch him. He, of course, had no need for sleep anymore, and he used the time to analyze Technoblade's behavior and actions more thoroughly.

Technoblade was smart, but he was smarter. He knew that attachments were menial, worthless and dangerous. They were weaknesses, and he had no need for those. Technoblade also knew they were weaknesses, he suspected. That's why Technoblade kept them so close to his heart, building walls of netherite and emerald to keep others out and away. He knew though. He knew what Technoblade ignored, that even the strongest walls can fall.

He learned that lesson with triumph, then with defeat.

One day, he knew he'd leave the prison. Whether by shadow or flame, he did not know, but it was inevitable. And when that time came, he'd crush their healing, broken hearts, he'd tear down their walls and burn what was inside.

Although Baby likes to keep to himself you end up making friends with people on the crews you work with

Darling you made friends with because you said you liked her coat

And Buddy befriended you after you made him laugh with some joke

The three of you end up becoming good friends and on occasion you do heists together

Going shopping with the three of them together

On occasion accusing Buddy of having bad fashion tastes

He kinda does once you see the shirts he’ll pick out before choosing something actually fashionable

There’s been movie marathons with the three of you

Usually comedies or action movies

You critic heist movies so those don’t get watched much

Buddy happens to be into sci fi which leads to some bad B-movies that just make you all laugh

Fancy dinners whenever possible

Whenever a new restaurant opens you three have to try it

He gets a call from you and answers it like normal but immediately tenses up when he hears the fear in your voice

You just tell him what you’ve been told to say giving no hints as to where you are

Frank knows who’s taken you though, it’s fairly obvious to him

Frank worries about your well being of course but he goes full Punisher mode

They took you and they’ll face his wrath

Barges in to where you’re being held and takes care of who he needs to

Frank goes from being all badass to being a teddy bear in a few seconds

Looks over you to see the extent of your injuries

Apologizes profusely saying it’s his fault you were kidnapped in the first place

Helps you stand and leave the building

Once the two of you get home he patches you up and apologizes again

You tell him you knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating him. You don’t blame him for anything

Soft kisses before the two of you fall asleep

Frank has got some self esteem issues of his own which mean he understands

He notices it before you even tell him but knows not to call you out on it, to let you come tell him when you’re ready

When you are ready and you’ve done all the talking you have to do Frank just pulls you to him and holds you there for a bit

He tells you that it’s ok to have low self esteem

He tells you that he’s not going to judge 

He let’s you know that he’s going to help you every step of the way

And he does 

The two of you talk and figure things out, what exactly causes some of that low self esteem

Once you’ve pinpointed it he starts figuring out what to do

Compliments all the time

Keeps reminding you that he loves you

Shows it all the time by always wanting to be near you

Makes sure that whatever he’s doing to help makes you comfortable