#And when will I ever get over the story of Achilles and Patroclus? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softshuji · 1 year

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12:18AM | HAITANI RINDOU

Title: My Knight In Shining Armour

Summary: It's Rindou's last night with you before your marriage, perhaps it's time to for you and your bodyguard to get some truths off your chests. (This is part of @orchid3a royal au collab, the link to which is here) link to my masterlist here!

cw: afab!reader, references to Greek myth, petnames (princess, my lady), some suggestive content, angst with little comfort, mentions of an arranged marriage, reader and Rindou are simps. Likes and reblogs appreciated!

You think destiny is a fickle and funny thing and perhaps it always has been. Perhaps the heroes of the stories said the same thing, raged insults at the same moon and the same sun as they flew towards it. At the same problems that persisted no matter how far in the future they were. Perhaps those stories should serve as a comfort to you now, their lessons immortalised as legends.

Every human believes they’re above it all, believes the laws of nature apply to everyone that isn’t them. You’re no different. You think of Medusa crying to Athena in the temple, a life’s worth of rage at the Fates that had cackled as they wove the fabric of her story, golden threads held between crooked fingers. You think of Achilles holding Patroclus’s dead body, his sights set on Hector with a vitriol that was almost godly, almost divine, enough anger to rival the sun.

Should it bother you this much? That you’ll be wed to a man you’ve never met in under a week, Queen to a people who will find fault in every action. Should it bother you that you’re denied the happy ending that the Princesses in the stories always get? You know you’ve no right to complain like this, that you’ll be waited on, servants and maids who would rather die than disobey and it makes an ugly shame pool in your stomach.

‘The moon is beautiful tonight, is it not?’ You say, and your hand holds up your chin on the white windowsill, your gown falling over the lip of the bench and catching the eaves of moonlight that spill through the glass.

‘Princess?’ Rindou says. He steps closer into the slice of light that illuminated the marble floor, the clink of his armour brushing the soft wool of your shawl, before following the line of your sight. ‘Yes. Yes it is.’

He looks beautiful like this, with the moonlight slicing through the stained glass, falling through the thin wisps of his silken hair, blue and lilac, lavender and stars and the burnished honey of his skin swallowing the light like it belongs to him. It does, it feels like it does. His armour is unblemished, it always has been. He takes great care to appear his best to you, strong and worthy and capable and willing to take your hand when you stand and he thinks, no he knows, this is just his duty. He is your Knight, your bodyguard in all things.

‘I don’t think we’ll ever have nights like this when I leave will we?’ Your lips part and a sigh drips past your lips, despairing and achingly full of the years that sit between you. It’s true, you know that, you’ve a lifetime of learning etiquette and social grace and you’d be remiss to assume that things can stay the same. In your new life, Rindou will not be welcome like he is now, the moon to your sun, the light of your eyes, the comfort of your heart.

There will never be nights overlooking the veranda, sitting in some nook or corner with his legs brushing yours. The library has always been your favourite place to stay, the two of you overlooking the gardens conspiratorially, like lovers tittering in the corner at a ball. He talks often and much when he is alone, the silences permeated by the creak and whine of wind leaking through the gaps in the windows, draughts that make the hairs on your arms rise. And Rindou will always pull the shawl a little closer around you, always click his tongue affectionately and you find that those moments are the ones you enjoy the most, when he is closer than normal, his calloused knuckles achingly close.

It’s wrong.

It always has been. You’ve never spoken about it, and you have no plans to confess that what you feel for him is anything other than a royal sense of duty, that the longing looks and smiles reserved just for him are anything but the same grace you would extend to anyone else, anyone who wasn’t him.

‘No, I don’t expect we will.’ He shifts his legs, knees brushing yours as he sits on the bench, his broad chest hunkered by the clink and clamour of armour that he feels is too loud in the otherwise silent library. ‘You’ll be very preoccupied when you leave, you’ll have a husband to spend your time with instead.’

It aches somewhere he thinks his heart should be, the knowledge that another man will get to touch you, hold you, hear you, in every way he can only dream of, that the locked doors of his fantasies will be lived by someone who isn’t him. A man whose face he’ll only ever see from a distance but will share your bed and slide his hands over your skin and it burns him with a jealousy that’s red and hot and pulses with pain in his chest. In his daydreams, you are his, he belongs to you and he finds that he settles into that life easier than expected. Loving you, and being loved by you, is not as hard as he assumes it would be and the domestic bliss comes easily to him. He lets down his walls on occasion and you welcome him, as you always have done, with open arms and he rests his head on your chest and listens for the soft and reassuring pattern of your heart.

But it’s a dream, it will always be a dream.

It’s almost thrilling in some sinful way, to have you to himself like this, your attention that he so often shares with others, reserved for him when you are bare of your jewels and gowns, the thin slip and slide of your sleeping gown that kisses at your skin in a way that makes the heat burst along his neck. He imagines he is not the first, and he certainly doesn’t expect to be the last to long for you in such a way, to want to feel the push and pull of you against his chest, to rest you there with your hair tickling at his throat, to want to keep you for himself. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier for him though, to watch the suitors line up in brocade suits, lecherous grins concealed by masquerade masks and blithe smiles, their lips lingering for a second too long on your hand and your amicable smile twitching with a flicker of annoyance only he can see.

But it’s wrong.

It always has been, and no amount of self-denial can convince him that what he daydreams about in the locked corner of his mind is anything but sinful, anything but wrong. You are his Princess, and he is just your Knight and if his destiny is to trail after you forever, like night and her train of stars, just to bathe a little longer in your warmth, be the recipient of your reserved smiles, then he is content just to do that.

‘What if I didn’t want to go, Rindou? What if I don’t want this?’ You say, and your whisper fogs up the glass from where your lips purse as you hold your chin in your hands. You know that is wrong too, that this is your duty just like all things are, that love is fickle and duty is forever and love is to duty what poison is to fruit.

Rindou softens and his hand almost touches your knee on instinct before clenching his fist with anxiety and a longing that makes him sick. ‘I’m sorry Princess. I can’t pretend to know how that feels, only that I think you should do what you feel is best for you.’

‘I’ll have to leave you behind, do you know that?’

‘I do.’

‘You’re not bothered by that? By the fact that we’ll never see each other again?’

He swallows and breaks your stare, lets the violet hue of his eyes fall onto the rosebush that’s cloaked in darkness, petals viridescent in the light. A muscle feathers in his jaw and a frown creases the perfect smoothness of his forehead and you have the sudden urge to soothe it with your thumbs, curl your fingers along his cheek and swipe his lips to watch them part for you. He resists the urge to look back at you, at your eyes that catch the light, the stained glass that makes your skin glow with warmth.

It’ll eat him at first, the absence of you that’ll gnaw at his stomach will force him to push himself further. He knows how it’ll be, pushing himself further in training, in work, in anything and his Brother will hope that he can push a few girls his way in the hopes of helping him forget and Rindou will wait eagerly for the letters which will never come. And the girl that will never come with it.

‘I am Princess.’ He curls his fingers around his sword hilt, licks his drying lips and all the while, his eyes rake over the rosebush in bloom, budding petals drifting to the ground, where they kiss the specks of sand and leaves that litter the veranda. ‘But it’s your duty, just like looking after you is mine.’

And maybe, if it could have been some other way, in some other world where he is not him and you are not you and there are no such obstacles. Maybe in that world he is just a boy in love with a girl and you are his only, the truest example of lovers under the sun. He would find you if it existed, if there was such a thing as a world where you could meet as anyone but who you are. Perhaps he could kiss you freely there, with a hand around your back like the suitors do, better than they do in fact, because he knows he loves you enough, loves you more, to the point of pain in fact.

You turn to him, brush your knees against his and Rindou’s heart smashes against his ribs. ‘Do you ever wish it wasn’t? That we could just…run away?’ you say, indulging the daydream in a way that you know is impossible, that it’s dangerous to even suggest, improbable and bordering on treasonous, wrong in every sense of the word.

‘Princess?’ he says and his chest aches, burns and tightens with that familiar longing for you all over again and the pain is both delicious and agonising as your knees press against his, the moonlight falling on the exposed sweep of your collarbones peeking from beneath your gown.

It’s your last night with him, you know this, you have known for weeks. Does the knowledge make it any easier? Does knowing that he’ll eventually find another girl make it easier or harder for you? Does knowing that another man will touch you in the way you have both knowingly and unknowingly reserved for him make it any less painful?

‘We could,’ you say eventually, although your heart isn’t in it, and maybe you say it because it’s soothes the pain to indulge in it, the fantasy of the two of you in a house somewhere, where everything is safe and your heart lies in his palm, secure and loved and cradled.

‘You know we couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘We’d be found, you’re a Princess and I’m just-’

‘Don’t. Don’t ever say that.’ You grab his wrist and your thumb finds the sharp incline of his palm and you press a painted finger into the space there, stroke it achingly slow, feeling the calloused skin underneath. You wonder at all it has seen, all the blood that’s splashed over onto his fine and polished armour, the horrors that he has witnessed, both at your behest and not and it burns that you can’t take it from him and cradle his head to your chest and give all the love you both feel and think he deserves.

‘It’s true though,’ he says and his hand comes to rest on top of yours, brushing your knuckles free of scars, tiny clefts and indentations he wishes he could explore given the time, to marvel at the ridges and veins that swim underneath. ‘It would never work, you know that Princess. You needn’t suffer over something that was never going to happen.’

He says it for the both of you, knowing it won’t help either way to assuage the thunderous ache that builds in his stomach when he thinks of someone else having you undeserved.

‘Do you think… it worked somewhere else?’

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, the soft wisps of fine hair slipping over the silver of his armour, curling at the hollow of his throat.

‘What do you mean?’

‘If we met again, somewhere else, you’d find me right? You’ll always find me.’ You hope it’s true, that maybe he reaches across time and fate to find you there, whether he believes in it or not, one outstretched hand towards your name on the wind, towards the golden thread that pulls him unknowingly to you.

He smiles, bashfully even and dips his head to the ridge of your knuckles, presses his lips to the soft plane of your hand, his hair falling against your wrist, your exposed arm swallowing the moonlight and it sends the heat to your cheeks, your neck, the part of your chest that’s slipped between the folds of your gown, dizzying and wondrous and it aches that you can’t live in this feeling right here, in this library and let the the world rot and die around the two of you.

‘I will always find you Princess. You only have to call and I’ll come and catch you.’

‘Every time?’ Your voice wavers, the tears pricking at your throat, at the bang of your heart in your chest.

‘Every time.’

‘Oh.’ And it’s your turn to flush a deep crimson now, and hide it in the shadow of darkness that falls over the window seat from the bookcase that hides you strategically from view. He knows you need to hear it, even if he doesn’t care for fate or destiny or the things heroes tell themselves to sleep easier at night, even if he’s willing to make an exception to the rule that’s saved him so many times, for you.

He touches your cheek, one single finger brushing at the stray eyelash on your cheekbone and the bump in his throat slips and slides under the silver of his armour, disappearing beneath the links of chainmail that hide the ink of his chest from view. You’re ashamed to admit you’ve thought so long and hard about running your tongue along every ridge and muscle of his, the flex of his stomach under your waiting mouth, the groan that spills past his parted lips when you suck harshly on the inviting swell of his chest, fine hairs like pencil shadings disappearing beneath the cord of his slacks to where you want to taste him most.

You bite down hard on your lip, your eyes flitting between the viridescent flash of violet in his and his pink lips, parted and wet and you know they’d be supple and soft, would slot perfectly on yours and he’d moan against your mouth and you’d forget for the moment that you could be found in your clandestine and sinful state of him moving against you.

‘I-’

‘It’s alright, I understand,’ you say, with more fervour than you feel, more confident than you could ever be around him, because you know he needs to hear it, that you understand and you want to, and it would be so easy to bridge the gap and have him ruin you in the way you know he wants to, hungry and insatiable and loud, your eager whines of his name muffled beneath his leather glove clamped over your mouth.

‘I want to, I really do.’ He could, if he was anything less than what he is, if it didn’t matter to him that another man would see the marks he’d painted on your skin and hurt you for it, for his own greed that would come at the price of your tears. It’s a risk that even he, the most reckless, unpredictable, aggressive of the Knights can’t take, would never take at your expense. For all his faults, he is redeemed by you, the sun that spills into and out of his life.

‘I know, me too.’

‘I’m sorry, for hurting you like this’ he says, the whisper of his breath fanning against your nose. He breaks your gaze, and presses his forehead to your knuckles, his lips, as if he can carve it into you, as it it makes it any less painful to feel him kneeling for you, ever loyal, knowing your heart is in every kink of his armour, wound tightly between his fingers.

‘I’m sorry too.’ You sniffle, and the tears are lost in the soft cashmere of your shawl, in the white and ivory lace of your sleeping gown. You take his face in your hands and it aches that when he looks up at you, his eyes are wide and the moon spills the opalescent veneer of its light onto his lashes, the violet hue lightened to lilac.

There is a terse silence, broken only by the flutter of the wind leaking between the stacks of books and wooden shelves, the crackle of fire that casts a faint orange glow over the honeyed bronze of his skin.

‘Rindou,’ you say.

‘Princess,’ he says, weighted with all the years of your friendship, even after it had blossomed into something more.

‘Rindou, My Rindou.’

‘Your Rindou, and you’re My Princess.’

It has a foreign flutter beating against your chest.

‘That’s right.’ You skim your thumb along his cheek, the high and sharp slope of his perfect cheekbones, the nose that’s a little crooked from all the fighting, the cut in his lip that he never takes care of after sparring. ‘You will write often won’t you?’

‘Of course, you will write back?’

‘I will, always. You will be tired of me soon, filling your days with useless chatter.’

‘I could never tire of you, My Lady,’ he says and it’s true, because for all your belief, that you are just simply too much for others, that the burden of you is greater than the reward, you are just right for him. If only he had more time to prove it.

‘I’ll be bored without you, you know. I’ll be so lonely.’ You wonder briefly, at the man who you will wake up to every morning, the weight of him, the fact that you will no longer reach across the space of your bed to find Rindou dozing in the chair, his gloved hand holding his chin as he fights the sleep to watch over you.

‘You’ll find friends, you won’t be alone,’ he says, placatingly, even though he knows the space the two of you have made, a closeted corner of each other’s hearts, can never be filled and will always remain locked and isolated.

He doesn’t expect it’ll continue for long, the correspondence you’ve promised. He knows how it is. That one day turns to two, and a week turns to a month and you’ll be having children and maybe his letters to you, written with all the heart he knows he can give, with the words he often finds so hard to say, will collect dust beneath the paperweight. If they ever get to you at all.

You bend to press your lips to his forehead, and Rindou thinks, the little heart he does have, the one you own, safely tucked beneath the sleeve of your shawl, breaks here when he feels your lips on his skin, soft and imperceptible, the scent of your perfume caught in his nose, the cotton of your sleeves dancing on his cheeks.

He wonders what his Brother would say if he saw him now, the harsh lump in his throat threatening tears, the thunderous roar of his heart.

‘Thank you Rindou,’ you say, your lips to his hair, knowing you won’t touch like this again, hoping that this gives him all the love you know he needs and will always pretend not to, because he’s like that, because he’s tough and capable and yours, beyond time, beyond this.

‘You too Princess. It’s been fun,’ he whispers and it feels like an end, like he is being crushed. Did it always hurt so much? When the heroes lived and died for love? Did Achilles burn with the same pain when Patroclus was taken?

A door closes somewhere, the click of it banging against the wall and snapping the both of you into the present. A voice, and a shadow looming against the furthest wall and it means that’s the end. Come morning, you’ll be gone and Rindou will be here and maybe he’ll watch you leave, see you off like he should. Or maybe not.

He hopes that somewhere, in some lifetime it hurts less, that the two of you are happy and safe and there are no tears to shed, no painful endings to cry over for the both of you.

Somewhere, maybe.

a/n: hiii this is so late omg I am so sorry, I was meant to post this like two months ago, but big thanks to Aria for holding this collab it was very fun to write, I hope you enjoy it (pls don't burn me at the stake lol) I've never written a royal au before so this was fun! Thank you to everyone for supporting me!

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @swqllen @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @tetsutits @burnishedcrown @sweet-seishu @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment

let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev #tr x reader #regalità & magia - collab

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sophsicle · 4 months

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i've come here to talk to you about my undying love for hektor because i think you would both appreciate and understand me....

like he is so special and so charming and so so so "gentle" in the midst of so many terrible things. obviously he is a killer but he has such humanity, like im reading multiple translations of the iliad for my grad class and i cant believe how that kindness is carried over in so many of the translations they don't leave it out, ever

AND ANDROMACHE! when she says "you've been a father to me and my mother and my brother because they all have been killed" i FEEL SO BROKEN

Yeah I am very obsessed with Hector I am actually obsessed in general with the way that the iliad does not follow the narrative structure that the western novel later develops, i would argue that is at least partially due to the influence of Christianity and the desire to have cut and dry "good" and "bad" characters

the Trojans are not the bad guys in the iliad, even tho technically it is being written from the greek perspective, arguably Agamemnon is the bad guy, or at least the least likeable character, imo, so it is not a case of good guys v. bad guys.

and achilles is our hero, and patroclus is his humanity, and is beloved by everyone, and Hector. Hector who is not a bad guy. Hector who is a very good man, actually. very loyal, decent, honourable, hector kills him. which is like. ugh. brutal. and patroclus is achillles' everything. and he is torn apart by grief and so are you, as the reader, and you want revenge but like, on who? on who? because hector is not a bad guy. he was not even in the wrong for killing patroclus (whomst he thought was achilles) but he did kill him. he did. and that hurts.

so you get the climatic fight scene. but that fight scene is not between the good guy and the bad guy like we're used to seeing today. it is between a very good guy. and a very heart broken guy. and you feel for them both. you understand them both. you root for them both.

and so achilles kills hector. and it isn't really satisfying. or heroic. it is shameful actually. and it doesn't make him feel any better. and it doesn't bring patroclus back.

in fact the real peace, comes not from the battle, from the killing, but from Priam. Hector's father. who comes to Achilles, alone, and unarmed and begs for his son. and the two bond over their shared grief.

it is so human, right? like, there are no heroes or villains in this story. there are just people, fighting a war, not a war for good or evil, just a war for land. and power. and hearts are broken and lives are ruined and there is no real purpose.

but the story bleeds.

it bleeds with the love of sons. and fathers. and brothers. and lovers. and it just-

i love that hector is such a likeable guy, because it would be so much less beautiful a story if he wasn't. it would be too easy and too simple.

#soph rambles

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thesungod · 4 months

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i know the new books are likely to capitalize on the show but i still really want a sequel to percy jackson's greek gods and heroes where apollo goes over the trojan war (since none of the other books apparently want to untangle that) except artemis is there to make sure he is both truthful & objective in his retelling but its still extremely obvious that he hates achilles and that they both hate agamemnon. bonus points if this starts off as a story he's telling will and nico to emphasize how overrated achilles and patroclus are. don't let people compare you to them. when do we get that one.

from your lips to Rick Riordan’s ears forever and ever please and thank you i love you ❤️🙏🏻

#ask

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uhuraisgay · 3 months

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fic writer meme

ty lore @megafaunatic for tagging meee :3c

How many works do you have on Ao3?

fifty three as of today. tomorrow? who knows.... (probably still fifty three)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

518,435 words .... wrow.....

3. What fandoms do you write for?

historically its been all over the place but theres so much stuff rotting and dying in my gdrive that has never been posted so i feel like i have a broader actual ouvre than is represented on ao3. which is mdzs heavy at least in the past couple years

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. beyond all limit (wangxian i wrote for lore right after i first read the book) 4. if the story's over (moshang post-divorce get-together fic) 3. someone as good for me as you (written in 2016 for holster and ransom when i was reading check, please. LMAO) 2. at least as deep as the pacific ocean (written in 2015 in the clearest example of 'person distraught by the tragic ending of a tragedy misses the fucking point and writes a coffee shop au of achilles and patroclus after she read tsoa' ever, even bigger LMAO) 1. your name safe in their mouth (lsz gets his dad back, and other emotional adventures)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i used to try to reply to every comment i got but i stopped doing that around the same time i went to college and got more depressed. but i love reading comments and i sometimes reply if someone says something that moves me or like. asks me a question about the fic that i want to elaborate on? because i love to yap

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm not really good at writing straight angst i feel like it's normally like. angst with catharsis. but i wrote some explorations on grief in the past couple years that i feel like have the angst factor (what i have of you about nhs after nmj dies, and then when your beard fell out about my sweetie pie kageyama tobio in middle school after his grandpa dies)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i have a lot of silly fluffy fics... idk i try to toe the line mostly of like. the joys and sadnesses of human experience but sometimes you just gotta fluff it up. i'll set the table, you can make the fire, which is book verse aziraphale/crowley living in a cottage and being in love, comes to mind....i love that one

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i don't think i've ever really gotten hate on a fic? i have been extremely lucky in that regard. especially since my whole ouvre from like 2014 onward is on that damn site and much of it is very cringeworthy.

9. Do you write smut?

not well!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

i often will do like kind of a quasi-crossover kind of thing rather than a True Crossover wherein i take characters i like from one medium and plop them into the roles and places of characters i like from another medium. i did a dragon age wangxian fic where lwj was the inquisitor from da:i called we held together the fragile sky that kind of exemplifies this dynamic

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of or that anyone has ever notified me of, but i also don't look that hard. if this has ever happened, it would hurt my feelings, so please don't do it ? lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!!!! and i was honored

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not as such but i have one not-intended-for-posting fic which is basically just a transcription of jokes i have with my roommate about haikyuu characters LOL which i think counts as co-writing. she's my co-writer in spirit even if i'm the one at the keyboard

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

my answer to this changes with every new fixation i have. like right now it's kagehina. if you asked me four years ago i would have said wangxian. You Know?

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

SO MANY...i think probably my fullmetal alchemist nie brothers au....i try not to post things until they are done and fully edited now, but that one was a whim-based fic that i lost all strength for as soon as i started thinking too hard about kagehina. i also had a fem nielan sci fi au that was vaguely based off beauty and the beast but nmj was like stuck in a ship and she thought she was its computer and that she was a program but she was actually a person....which i never posted any of except snippets on twitter and i think it was just too sprawling for my current skill level...i just was never able to wrangle it. but i am fond of it nonetheless

16. What are your writing strengths?

based on what other people have told me i would say the way i write sibling / family relationships, and while my prose is not always pretty i do think it can be pretty at times ...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i feel like it's often too self-indulgent even if that's what fic is for lol, and i tend to look back on fics and think, i wrote that because i had feelings about it and wanted to say it, but i'm not necessarily sure that This Character would say/do that at this point in time....idk like i fear that when i don't think about it hard enough my characterization can be weak or guided by what eye personally would do vs. what The Character would do. but some of that is because the majority of my fics on ao3 are from years and years ago and i (hopefully) have continued to improve

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

i'm picky about it but when it's done well i think it's really fun and builds so much of the world/character. i think when it's bad it's really bad. when i go about it i try to think about like, a) do i know this language myself/do i know someone who does. if the answer is no i try to keep it really minimal. b) how do people who know multiple languages approach speaking those multiple languages naturally in real life. like (IN MY EXPERIENCE) ppl don't tend to switch languages for random words mid-sentence unless those words are like, mom, dad, uncle, aunt, ect...maybe swearing if they're less familiar with one of the languages and don't know slang/swearing in it...but again when it's done well it's really good and i'm not an expert. i just can kinda tell when it feels off when i read it, if that makes sense...(it's the same way i feel about grammar lol. sometimes i can just tell it's a little Off)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

probably either fma or soul eater or the sister's grimm book series when i was in middle school. or maybe doctor who? idk i had a lot of fanfic notebooks that i have since destroyed and then regretted destroying

20. Favorite fic you have written?

at the present moment it's in these coming years my kagehina love letter but again i feel like it changes constantly. like the more i write the better i get and the more the newest/most polished thing i've written sort of Becomes my favorite just by default of my satisfaction level with it. sorry if that's a bad answer

tagging @yuebings @dcyiyou @burins @cairoscene @cafecliche @perilously sorry if you've been tagged already also if you want to do this and i didn't tag you just say i did. I'll shut up now

#look at me. president of yap city #anyway here's my Distinguished Writing Thoughts.

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classicschronicles · 1 year

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Hi lovelies,

Last week I convinced my Dad to read the Iliad (well audio-book it but same thing). Every morning I get in the car for school and he launches the entire Spanish Inquisition on to me about whatever book he listened to the night before. He then just sits there in silence and questions why I took Classics. But after explaining the Iliad to my Dad every day, I’ve realised that it can be seriously confusing if you just pick it up with no context. So today I’m going to try and give the Cliff Notes version of the Iliad aetiology!

The ‘Iliad’ translates to the ‘Story of Ilium’ (Ilium being the contemporary name for Troy). The Iliad is a Greek epic written by the poet Homer, and the reason it is called an ‘epic’ is because it has certain defining features. An epic is a very large story that can be broken down into smaller books (in this case 24 books). It usually depicts or focuses on a journey or a large theme or event (so the journey of Achilles, the theme of war, or the event of the Trojan War). In traditional ancient epics the main character is a hero. *enter Achilles, stage left*

Achilles is the son of the Goddess sea nymph Thetis and the mortal king, Peleus. Initially Thetis was one of Zeus’ many loves but a prophecy that stated that the son of Thetis would be more powerful than his father led Zeus to marry Thetis off to Peleus (to ensure that this unborn son did not pose a threat to the king of the Gods).

As an apology to Thetis for making her marry a mortal man, Zeus throws Thetis and Peleus a huge, massive, over the top (basically Indian) wedding. Out of all the Gods and Goddesses only Eris, the Goddess of strife, is not invited. Which is understandable, because why would you want Strife at a wedding? Eris gatecrashes the wedding and holds up a golden apple and says that the apple belongs to the fairest of the goddesses. Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera all claim that the apple should be theirs. Zeus is too much of a pussy to chose which goddess the apple should go to and so he sends them to the Trojan Prince, Paris for judgment. This whole side myth, by the way, is called ‘The Judgement of Paris’

Okay so Paris, that’s a whole other story. Paris is the son of the Trojan King and Queen, Priam and Hecuba. Before his birth, Hecuba received a prophecy about her son too. Her prophecy stated that the child she would have would be a burning torch that set fire to Troy. After giving birth to the baby Paris, she left him on Mount Ida to die. However, he was adopted by a shepherd and brought up as his son. At some point he returns to Troy and reminds his mum that she left him on a mountain (although I don’t know how he knew that) and despite the prophecy Priam and Hecuba took him back in.

Back to the main plot. The three goddesses (Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera) go to Paris and ask him who is the fairest, each promising a gift if he chooses them. Athena says that she will bring him success in war, Hera says she will bring him political power, and Aphrodite promises him the most beautiful woman as his wife. For those amongst you already familiar with the story, I of course am referring to Helen of Sparta. Paris travels to Sparta on a diplomatic mission where the beautiful Helen is married to the most powerful of all the Greek kings- Menelaus. After the mission is complete, Menelaus leaves Sparta for some foreign business, leaving Helen to entertain the Trojans. It is at this point that Paris kidnaps Helen and takes her to Troy.

Now Helen is of course famed for being the most beautiful woman alive, but she was also a daughter of Zeus. When the time came for her to marry she had many suitors (such as Patroclus), but Menelaus was chosen. Odysseus suggested that all the unsuccessful suitors take a blood oath that if there ever came a time that Helen was in danger, they would all bring their men to protect her. That is why the armies of so many Greek kingdoms arrive in Troy (to fight alongside Menelaus and to save Helen). Fun fact! Achilles was never proposed as a suitor for Helen and so he wasn’t contractually obliged to be in Troy, he just went for the glory (and probably for Patroclus too). Oh and also because Odysseus told him that if he didn’t go he would look like a wimp.

The Iliad begins exactly one decade into the Trojan War (I’m not joking they have literally been there for ten whole years- I can’t make this shit up). When the poem takes off both sides are weary from war, but the Greek have just won a small battle victory- abducting two women- Chryseis and Briseis. And it is after the abduction of these two women that Book One takes place.

I’m not kidding, explaining this to my dad has been an entire Olympic Sport. I think me asking him to read it has just opened up the door to him questioning every single one of my life choices! But hopefully you all found that a lot more digestible. Hope you all have a lovely rest of your weekend :)

#classical studies #classics #greek mythology #ancient rome #ancient greece #dark acamedia #roman mythology #hellenic deities #ancient world #history #homer’s iliad #the iliad #my dad was like #wtf is this #wtf is happening #my child is fine #patrochilles #paris #the aeneid

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fictive-fodder · 2 years

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|| Steven Grant vs. You : III ||

A tiny story where you discover that your sweet, handsome coworker is just as much into Egyptology as you are into ancient Greece- and the playful battle that ensues.

PART I - PART II - PART III

Word Count: 2.9K

Tag List

Read this on A03!

Referenced works- Hesiod. Theogony and Works and Days (Oxford World's Classics) OUP Oxford. Richard Mayde. Ancient Egypt, Dodd, Mead Gerald D. Waxman, Astronomical Tidbits: A Layperson's Guide to Astronomy

Let us begin our singing. It will haunt this great and holy mountain, and we will dance on our soft feet round the violet-dark spring and the altar of the mighty son of Kronos. We will bathe our gentle skin in Permessos. Then, on the highest slope we will make our dances, fair and lovely, stepping lively in time. From there we go forth, veiled in thick mist, and walk by night, uttering beautiful voice.

So said mighty Zeus’ daughters, they breathed into me wondrous voice, so that I should celebrate things of the future and things that were aforetime. Come now, from the Muses let us begin, as they tell of what is and what shall be and what was aforetime, voices in unison. The words flow untiring from their mouths, and sweet.

“I mean… just wow…” Steven sighed, eyes twinkling at you from across your desk.

“I know.” You nodded with deep satisfaction.

“You’re right, too.” he continued, “You really do get this sense that they were there.”

“It feels like it, huh?” you agreed, “With ancient Egypt, you have Pharaoh as the representative of higher power, but there isn’t this deep and messy interaction with the gods that I’ve come to love so much out of Greek myth. Especially when historical artists made work where they themselves interacted with gods, or were at least in conversation with them, like this or like Sappho.”

Lately, when Steven worked mornings, he had taken to peering into your cubicle on his breaks to see if you weren’t too busy for him to visit. It was quickly becoming your favorite ritual, and you found yourself often looking past your cubicle’s entrance as if you could will his curly head of hair to appear.

“I think the closest equivalent I can come to is the temple of Philae…” Steven thought aloud, he leaned over your desk excitedly. You smiled, nodding as you thought of the description of it in the book Steven lent you.

Close by this temple of Osiris at Philae was a small one, dedicated to his queen and sister, Isis. A later writer speaks of it as “the most strangely wild and beautiful spot he ever beheld. Here spreads a deep drift of silvery sand, fringed by rich verdure and purple blossoms; there, a grove of palms, intermingled with flowering acacia; and there, through vistas of craggy cliffs and gloomy foliage, gleams a calm blue lake, with the sacred island in the midst, green to the water’s edge, except where the walls of the old temple city are reflected.”

“From the little I’ve glimpsed so far, it seems like Osirus and Isis’ marriage is a very popular story?”

“Oh, yea, super.” Steven nodded significantly. “And for good reason too- I mean sewing your husband’s body back from fourteen pieces is quite a testimony to your love, I think.” There was a quiet pause as you took a moment to make sure the two of you were still being ignored, before Steven continued, “Is there a love story you like from Greek mythology?”

“Oh-” you took in a deep breath, overwhelmed by the question. “There are so many… I mean so, so many. You have the big ones, you know- like Odysseus and Penelope, Patroclus and Achilles, Hades and Persephone, the love triangle of Aphrodite, Ares and Hephaestus… the Greeks adored a good love story. They had 8 different kinds of Love, after all.”

“Eight, really?” Steven asked, leaning even further over your desk, his smile unfading.

“Yes! You have Storge, familial love. Philautia, self love. Agape, which I quite like, that’s love for everyone.”

“Ooh that’s very grand.” Steven chuckled.

“It is! Philia is also lovely- that’s deep friendship.”

“Alright, that was four.” he counted, tilting his head as he looked into your eyes. If there were any emails or phone calls incoming you would have never known. You met Steven’s gaze, smiling back at him and feeling, strangely, as if you couldn’t inhale as much air as you would like to.

“Mhm… then we have Mania, which is obsessive love. You know, when you can’t stop thinking about someone and you’re just-” you shook your head, grinning, “kinda like when you first fall in love for someone, really hard, and you can’t think about anything else, you’re just tortured?”

A change passed over Steven’s face that was initially hard for you to read. At first, you thought the brightness of his eyes dimmed at your last words, but as you searched his face you realized that his eyes weren’t less bright due to dismay or boredom, they were less bright because his pupils were dilating as he watched you. Steven was so close to you that you could even see your own silhouette in his widening gaze.

“Um…” you continued on, swallowing dryly, “A..Another favorite of mine, Ludus… which is playful love, or like- young love. Eros, probably the best known, as it’s the spicy one. And lastly you have the love I’m certain Osirus and Isis shared…”

“What’s that one called?” Steven asked, eyes widening.

“Pragma, longstanding love… kind of the end goal, really.”

You jumped with a start as your desk phone began to ring loudly. Steven cleared his throat, pulling himself off of your desk and back into his chair, rubbing the side of his face with one hand as you twisted to pick up your phone. You frowned as you recognized the number on caller i.d. to be the gift shop’s extension. “Ut oh Steven…” you mumbled, picking up the phone. “Reception- how can I help you?” you answered as neutrally as possible, but you almost lost your professional composure as you glanced nervously at Steven, and found him staring at you like a child caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“Hello- could you please tell me if there is a gift shop employee in the office? His name is Stevie?”

“Stevie?” you repeated, confused. Steven rolled his eyes, exasperated. “No, there is definitely no Stevie here I’m sorry to say… office is pretty empty. Is there something I can help you wi-” the phone clicked in your ear. Frowning, you pulled the receiver away from you to look at it, before hanging up the line and looking at Steven.

“Did Donna just hang up on you?” he asked, startled.

“I think she did?” you replied laughing, aghast.

“Oi- I hate that, I’m sorry.” Steven grimaced, standing up. “I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“I’m not concerned, we work in two totally separate departments.” you shrugged. This seemed to reassure Steven as he patted down his pants pockets and made sure he had everything.

“Time to go sell some plastic ankhs?” you teased, grinning.

“Oh yes.” Steven replied lamely. “Some Nike of Samothrace snow globes as well.”

“Ouch- you got me.” you laughed, standing up too. You opened your mouth to ask about seeing him for lunch before you stopped yourself- what if you were being too demanding of his attention? With these new visits, any free time Steven had was being claimed by you. It felt presumptive to assume he wouldn’t like some time for himself. “Um… do you have any plans you're looking forward to, today?”

“Finishing the Theogony, that’s about it.” Steven replied, stepping out of your cubicle. “Talk about it over lunch, yea?”

You felt yourself blush. “If you want to!”

“Cheers!” Steven exclaimed, before darting away.

You sat back in your office chair and swiveled to face your computer, smiling to yourself. Steven was good. He was so, so good. Sighing dreamily, you refreshed your email and watched your screen filled with messages.

As you clicked through your emails you couldn’t help but to keep thinking about Steven, how lucky you were to become friends after only a few weeks of working at the museum. Even though Donna and Steven’s relationship didn’t seem great, part of you envied the amount they got to interact as a team. Your role was mostly emails between curators, accountants, marketing agents, and the Liaison Department.

You straightened in your chair as something occurred to you, hadn’t Steven said that he wanted to be a tour guide? You opened an email from Marketing briefing the Liaison Department on a new collection of work that would be showcased soon, asking the liaisons to study up on the attached pdf’s of art history so they could speak about the collection. You still hadn’t figured out why you seemed to be CC’d on every single email from any department under the museum roof, but now that didn’t seem so bad. They were all there- any branch manager you needed was available to you… even the curation team for the ancient Egyptian collection.

“What have you got today?” you asked as you sat down beside Steven in the break room.

“I think what you mean is, what have I got us today!”’ Steven said triumphantly, as he pulled from his bag not one, but two lunches.

“What!” you exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

“Yea dove I made you lunch!” Steven grinned, all the more satisfied by your surprise. “It’s not bad either, we’ve got apples, some crisps, and avocado sandwiches! They’re quite good really, they’ve got lettuce and tomato in, and this spicy mustard.”

Steven set your lunch before you with a level of excitement equal to a conductor beginning a symphony. All you could do was stare, and make some strange smile with your mouth partly open, as you looked between him and the slightly crumpled, but still appetizing sandwich before you.

“I wanted to try and make this vegan caramel for the apples but I rather bungled that…” he continued, reminiscing on his caramel attempt with a cringe.

“I’m-“ you started to say, but you didn’t actually know what you were. Aside from the obvious attributes: deeply flattered, touched, and surprised. There was a tightness in your throat that you’d only usually felt when you were about to cry, but there were no tears forming in your eyes. You stared at the sandwich as if it held monumental power.

With a crunch, Steven bit into his apple. He nudged your arm with his elbow as he took another bite. You jumped a little and picked up your own.

“Cheers!” Steven said, tapping his apple against yours. Chucking, you took a bite.

You couldn’t have known how strange it was for Steven to be eating a lunch he made with a friend. He was nearly as surprised as you, that he was able to sit down with you today and provide this meal. Steven had never been very good about remembering to make himself up a lunch to take to work, but the idea of also making one for you, however modest it may be, was so exciting that it stuck in his mind. Instead of only remembering he should have packed food by the time he was clocking out for lunch, he had stopped at the market on the way home last night, imagining how this very moment would play out. As was usual, he had been hesitant to fall asleep, but the thought of having time in the morning to carefully assemble sandwiches gripped him with excitement and so he’d done his best, making sure his ankle restraint was tightly fastened to his leg no later than midnight, and stared up at his dark ceiling, silently begging it to let him sleep peacefully.

When Steven woke up it was nearly dawn. He was so bewildered by the unique light of early morning that for a moment he thought he’d only slept for a few minutes. His ankle was still securely fastened to its brace, and even more profoundly, he felt rested. Steven felt like he had won, but there was also a bitter sweetness to realizing his night had gone exactly as intended- that it was unlikely to happen again, or consistently.

He tried to brush off that anxiety though, as he watched you take the first bite of the sandwich he made. Whether you were just being angelically polite or genuinely enjoying it, he appreciated your attention nevertheless. What was better? To try and have some plans, some gifts, some special moments never materialize- or to never meet the opportunity to surprise you and make you smile?

That was an easy answer.

“You failed to mention earlier,” Steven started, chewing through a large bite of bread, “what your favorite ancient Greek love story is?”

“Oh right! Well that’s so difficult!” you groaned, grinning. “The reason may be nuanced, but I love Selene and Endymion’s story.”

“What is it?”

“Selene is the Moon goddess in the ancient Greek pantheon, and Endymion was a mortal shepherd Prince that would take his flock over hills and mountains at night. They fell in love, but because she was immortal and Endymion was not, Zeus extended his life by casting an eternal sleep upon Endymion.”

“Alright?” Steven responded, gesturing for you to keep explaining.

“That’s pretty much the whole story.” you laughed.

“Why is that your favorite then?” Steven asked, more spellbound than anything.

“Because! Okay this might sound a little cheesy but-”

“Sorry, I can’t do cheese. I’m vegan, remember?” Steven said with mock severity.

“Wow.” you replied flatly. You leaned back a little to watch Steven have a very hard time not laughing at his own joke. “Proud of yourself?”

“Go on, keep telling me why-” he choked out, bringing his hands to cover his mouth.

“No, no…” you replied, you resisted the twitch of a smile on your own face. “I don’t think I can after being eviscerated by your lactose free wit.”

“Please-” Steven wheezed faintly, nodding encouragingly, “Please, tell me.”

“Well-” you sighed haggardly, “What I was going to say is that I like it, because to me it feels metaphorical? No one should really ‘see’ the moon because it is at its best when we should be asleep, and yet we have and we do- and we have done for hundreds of years? Cultures with no connection all over the world have fallen in love with the Moon, which appears in its highest glory when our eyes should be closed? And I just think of that when thinking of Endymion. I think of how the night sky infatuates us, how humankind has always been so rhapsodic about it, even though as creatures we are useless in the dark and the night does little for anyone in a practical sense.

“Endymion is in this eternal sleep, induced by his love for the Moon… again, metaphorically, he’s fed by his affection for something so lovely? It just so simply encapsulates this understanding that people had way back then that even in a time of hardship, beauty was longed for and nourished humankind?”

Steven had stopped eating. He was simply staring at you, eyebrows raised.

“I know it sounds like I’ve thought about it too much- it’s because I do.” you qualified, embarrassed.

“No-” Steven replied, voice soft, brow furrowed. “You’re alright… that was, that’s good.”

You were not convinced that Steven was genuine in his reassurance. You cast your eyes downward, mind racing. This was an overstep on your part- you got a little too romantic, waxed a little too poetic about your favorite topic. You wanted to try to ground your thoughts. “Um… there’s an… there’s a quote from this book.” you offered weakly, pulling your phone out of your pocket for reference.

You read aloud, “There is a fundamental reason why we look at the sky with wonder and longing—for the same reason that we stand, hour after hour, gazing at the distant swell of the open ocean. There is something like an ancient wisdom, encoded and tucked away in our DNA, that knows its point of origin as surely as a salmon knows its creek. Intellectually, we may not want to return there, but the genes know, and long for their origins—their home in the salty depths. But if the seas are our immediate source, the penultimate source is certainly the heavens… The spectacular truth is—and this is something that your DNA has known all along—the very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and on and on—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff.“ The quiet you were greeted with felt unbearable. Quickly tucking your phone back in your pocket, you smiled, and sighed. “I mean those are the words of an astronomer, but the ancient Greeks were saying the same thing- We can’t help ourselves. We’re all in love with the moon.”

Mania. Steven thought.

“I…” Steven started, before stopping himself with a shake of his head. He still hadn’t touched any food. Sighing your name, Steven glanced into your eyes, head still shaking. “You… um, you think- You think very beautifully.”

“Hah-” you breathed, it was a sound of deepest regret. Why? Why had you been so open. You could have probably cooked an egg on your cheek, it felt so warm. You were desperate for some way out of being the talkative one. “You know, I don’t actually know if there was a Moon god in the Egyptian pantheon?”

“Oh-” Steven’s tone changed to something significantly less enchanted. “Yea. His name is Khonshu, god of the Moon, protector of those who travel at night.”

“...not a fan?” you asked, unable to help smiling at how personally offended Steven seemed by invoking Khonshu.

“Not really.” he replied, shrugging.

“Aha!” you grinned, taking a triumphant bite of your apple. “And there it is.”

“What?” Steven asked.

“The beginning of the end, Steven.” you hummed, “Greek god versus Egyptian God, Selene beats Khonshu.”

“HAH!” Steven laughed so loudly the rest of your coworkers in the break room glanced over. Why did this always happen to you two? Steven grasped at his chest, his eyes closed by the strength of his giggles. “Alright dove, that one you can have.”

TAG LIST:

@oliviagreenaway @then-he-was-wrong-about-me @b0xerdancer

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #steven grant / reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #moon knight x you #mcu moon knight #moon knight fan fiction #moon knight imagines #non binary reader #non binary fan fic #steven grant vs. you #fictive-fodder #fictive fodder

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josnhoes · 11 months

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@lulubs24

I don't really know where I am going with that story idea. But I can give you some of my non-linear plot points and ideas.

HCs below:

Achilles is actually filled with more guilt over the reader then he is Pat. He's still drowning in grief with Pat and that situation but there were way more layers of who to blame. He can only blame himself for abandoning reader. Couple that with the fact he'd seen you when you arrived and you hadn't even glanced his way before being taken away to Elysium just showed how angry you were at him.

Anger he had to learn to accept. He was mad at first thinking you didn't care for Pat as much as you had claimed and were selfish in not wanting to avenge him. But over the *many* years he figured out the truth.

When he and Pat are reunited by Zagreus he has to come clean and tell Pat everything. Patroclus was *pissed* not only because Achilles had meddled in the afterlife and chosen something for him with out his permission, but he abandoned *you*.

Pat finally understands now why after all this time you never came looking for him. Even if you didn't blame him for his death, something he knows you'd never do, he was now a reminder of such a betrayal that all he would do is remind you of what happened. He knew how you thought, likely you went back to viewing yourself as an extra in their pair. An extra that had no place.

Pat had worked so *hard* to make sure you knew he and Achilles loved you as much as they loved eachother. He'd reassured you plenty of times when others had made comments on you being a third wheel. Some were far more cruel and crass but the theme was you didn't belong with the pair. Pat wanted you to know that wasn't the case at all. But Achilles actions had destroyed all of that.

I stead of staying in his little corner of Elysium all the time he now ventures out on occasions to look for you. Never for long; the stranger and Achilles needed him. As mad as he was with Achilles he still loved him.

Zagreus ever the busy body buts in on the entire situation. He wants the people he likes happy after all. So he keeps his eyes out for you with every run. And he knew that once he found you and earned your trust he could begin fixing things.

You weren't happy in Elysium, the sound of battle only dredging up memories you long wished gone. As a battle medic you'd seen and heard more then enough fights. The blood and gore you had to deal with as a healer wasn't the memories. Though you hated think on the lives you'd failed you hated the memories of Pat and Achilles.

If it wasn't for the fact the only thing keeping you, you was your pain of the betrayal, the burn of the many lies you had believed about belonging; you would have thrown yourself into the river lethe and been done with everything.

Despite the hurt some traitorous part of you hoped that they would come looking for you. That the pair cared enough to seek you out and make amends. But as you expected, they never came. You figure the soldiers had been right, you never belonged with them; you were just a useful toy.

None of that is obviously true, but being in the state you were, that's what you believed. It was easier to think they never loved you at all than to think they would abandon you.

Your first interaction with Zagreus is brief. He tried asking your name and strike up a conversation. After all it was rare someone *didn't* try to fight him. You tell him nothing and simply tell him to leave you. It's not until he fights his father that he realizes you were the one Pat and Achilles were looking for! Now that he knows you are around he begins the task of tracking you down until he can get you to open up.

It doesn't go well, Zagreus so used to winning people over fairly easily assumed you'd be like Pat. It seemed like it at first. You'd tell him to leave you be and ignore him. But Pat had a different form of sorrow then you. So the same method would not work.

He tried jokes, he tried gifts, he even tried to fight you a few times only to end up back in the house. Which was terrifying. When you fought, it was something that somehow shook him to his core. Zagreus couldn't help but wonder if maybe you were a Keres or one of their children. He'd have to ask Nyx. Because really a mortal shade shouldn't be so utterly terrifying when provoked.

#hades supergiant #hades supergiant x reader #hades 2018

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baejax-the-great · 1 year

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What do you like exploring the most when you write Patrochilles fics? What about them makes you WANT to get them on paper.

Ever since getting this ask, I've had Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs stuck in my head, hah. The refrain goes "they don't love you like I love you." That's probably the short of it.

When I read the Iliad, there was a horrible introduction that basically said Achilles was an arrogant sociopath who didn't love anyone, least of all Patroclus, who he only saw as an extension of his own ego. His grief over Pat's death? No, that was just the temper tantrum of a man who was insulted that his servant was killed because that indicates a weakness on Achilles' part or something. Idk. It was dumb.

I read other scholarly interpretations trying to figure out why the book I read was so different from the one they were talking about, and I eventually landed on "they just don't know him like I do."

Now I think that's true for everyone when it comes to characters. Achilles as you understand him is going to be different than Achilles as I understand him. But that first motivator to write him was partially just spite. They don't get him? That's fine. I do.

So that's Achilles. As for Patroclus, I got hooked on Hades!Pat. I loved his VA, I loved his saltiness, his depression, his little quips. Iliad Patroclus has the best trash talk of the entire book, which is a feat because he doesn't have all that many lines. His kills in the Iliad are also some of the most brutally described, and he has more than twice as many as Diomedes in his one short escapade. So he's witty, but clearly driven to keep up with Achilles when it comes to fighting, and described by everyone in the Iliad as well-liked and gentle.

When I think about the Iliad and Achilles, I hear my thoughts in Patroclus's salty voice.

And as for what I like exploring most, that's a tough one. I feel like my fics have all explored different things. Gold was a fluffy getting together story. ATG was an exploration of how two people who love each other can nonetheless fall apart, and what it looks like to pick yourself up from a codependent relationship like that. That one PWP was just like "what happens when I listen to too much fallout boy." Idk what Sunset is. A hate letter to winter? A study in trying to rationalize loving ancient Greek warriors? It's sure not the comedy I thought it was at the start.

While I don't think Achilles is particularly unlovable, I do think loving Achilles would be a challenge, even for his friends. I think loving any demigod would be, or anyone with a Fate. In writing Patroclus, I often think about what draws them together and what keeps them together, over and over again despite the very real challenges. Achilles is well aware that he's the difficult one in the relationship, but that also leaves room for blind spots when it comes to Patroclus.

That tension between them--Patroclus as ordinary and Achilles the extraordinary, Achilles who chooses their course and Patroclus who has to decide if it's worth it, Patroclus spending ten years of his life waiting for Achilles' fate to catch up to him, and then Pat being the thing that drives him to his death in the end--there is a lot of angst and fluff that can be explored.

#Hades game adding basically a breakup dynamic was 👌👌#idk man they're just good blorbos

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death-and-other-myths · 1 year

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The Song of Achilles

By Madeline Miller

I'm an uncultured swine and have never read Homer's Iliad. But I have read The Song of Achilles, and wrote an unhinged review/recap as I completed chapters!

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

So I’ve been hearing about this book for a while. All I know about it is that it’s Greek? (Roman?? God I wish I paid more attention in school) and is a romance story of homosexual nature. And everyone says it’s really powerful and is going to make me cry.

I’m like six chapters in and I can already tell I’m going to cry at some point. Not just because of the story, but because of the incredible amount of care in the writing. These prose are BEAUTIFUL. Not one word is wasted and Madeline Miller is just exceptionally talented with describing heady emotional things. I’m wowed.

So this story is told from the perspective of Patroclus. He is a prince! And his father is an abusive piece of shit. Just an awful, boorish human.

One year, their kingdom gets to host “the games” (I’m assuming like… the Olympic Games) and Patroclus is too weak to compete in the kids competitions, but he watches some kid from the neighboring kingdom just decimate the competition. He’s fast and blonde and a wonder kid. So it’s awesome that his father quite literally tells Patroclus “That’s what a son should be.”

See? This guy is such a dick!

Patroclus’ mother is mentally handicapped. It’s mentioned she has a scar on her temple from where her father once hit her. So that’s awful.

Oh, also Greek gods and goddesses are a thing in this world! Like a legitimate thing and not just legends or part of a religion or something. They come down and hang out with the mortals all the time like it’s totally fucking normal. I love it.

When Patroclus is nine, his father drags him to compete for some random princess’ hand in marriage, and poor Patroclus is the only suitor that’s younger than twenty. Like… what was the thinking here, Dad? What the fuck? The princess, Helen, is rumored to be crazy beautiful (she’s wearing a veil) and these guys are falling all over her. Her father makes the suitors swear to protect her always, and even little Patroclus takes the oath because everyone else is. Helen is asked to choose a man, and of course doesn’t choose the nine year old. And this all just reinforces to Patroclus that he is small and weak and not enough for his father.

So ten year old Patroclus is standing in a field one day when some fat, noble asshat kid comes and bullies him. Like… even though he’s a prince, the noble kids still pick on him. And his Dad doesn’t give a shit. They get into an argument over some dice and the fat kid stumbles and promptly EXPLODES HIS HEAD ON A ROCK. Patroclus is just like… horrified. The noble family demands punishment and Pat’s Dad is like “Whatever I’ll just banish him. I never liked this kid anyway.” — So Patroclus is sent to a neighboring kingdom and stripped of his title.

Well thank god this neighboring kingdom’s King is actually a good guy. He takes in lots of orphans and banished kids apparently. Patroclus sleeps in a big bunk with a bunch of other kids and totally blows his shot at being social and making friends when one of the boys asks if he wants to play dice. Pat is like “DICE?!?! FUCK YOU NO!” Because he’s still traumatized from accidentally killing someone over dice. From then on, he spends his days eating alone in the corner.

The prince, who happens to be that beautiful blonde kid he saw win the race, comes and eats with the boys and is the friendliest and most charismatic ten year old ever. As the story goes, he’s half god. His father once tackled a sea goddess, raped her, then forced her to stay on land and give birth to his half god kid after a year. When her year was up, she left immediately. I mean WOW. Ancient Greece was pretty brutal I guess, so I shouldn’t be surprised? And Greek mythology is also riddled with stories of rape and non-consensual shenanigans. But YIKES.

Well anyway, this kid’s name is Archilles and he’s good at everything, but totally humble and kind. Which really gets on Patroclus’ nerves. So he’s hiding out in the storage closet one day because he’s just so fucking done with everything, and Achilles finds him. He says the drill master (fighting instructor guy) is looking for him and he’ll be punished if he doesn’t have a good reason for missing spear class.

Patroclus, who is so traumatized from accidentally murdering someone and being banished by his father that he has nothing to lose, is like “Well, just tell them I was with you all morning. That way they can’t be mad.” And Achilles is like “Cool. I don’t lie, though.” So Pat says “Then how about I come with you to your music lessons?” — and he does!!

(By the way, I am doing this book such a disservice in the way I describe dialogue. Please know that literally every word, including the way these boys speak, is absolute poetry. I’m translating as best as my stupid sausage fingers can.)

So Patroclus goes to lyre lessons and is captivated by Achilles’ music skills. It reminds him of how his mother loved music. And Achilles must have been touched by the reverence with which Pat watches him, because when he goes before his father, he totally spins the story that he asked Patroclus to skip drills to come with him. His king Dad isn’t even mad. In fact, he says “I’ve been asking you if you want to take any of the boys as friends for years, and you refused. Why this one? He’s small and weird and I heard he killed a guy.” — And Achilles says “He surprises me.” And nothing more.

From then on, Achilles and Patroclus do everything together. Patroclus even moves into his bedroom and sleeps there in his own bed. They get into a little fight one day when Pat comes to watch Achilles do his drills (because he never trains in front of the other boys… because there’s a prophecy that he will be the greatest warrior of their generation and his god mother said she doesn’t want anyone knowing how amazing he is yet). Well even at 10 years old, Achilles is an amazing fighter. And Patroclus, being a dumb kid, is like “FIGHT ME OH MY GOD I’M SO IMPRESSED BUT ALSO HATE YOU AND I’M ALSO YOUR BIGGEST FAN BUT LET’S FIGHT.” And Achilles is like “Nope. Don’t ask me again.”

For the rest of the year they are best buds. I guess Patroclus had to get that last bit of jealousy out of his system. He is insanely happy being Achilles’ best friend. He doesn’t have nightmares about heads exploding anymore. They do everything together. Even the king invites him to anything Achilles is a part of.

Every so often, Achilles goes to visit with his Mom at the beach. One morning, he comes back and says his Mom wants to meet Patroclus. — This is adorable because it means Achilles has been telling her about his bestie. But also kind of terrifying because she’s a god that was raped and hates mortals. So Pat goes down to the beach and this mermaid goddess selkie lady comes and talks to him. She sounds terrifying. Black eyed and sharp mouthed. She basically says to him “You know he’s going to be a god, right?” — Pat is like “Um, yes.” — and she’s like “Good. You’ll die soon enough.” Like damn she really does hate mortals. (With good reason lol)

But I feel sorry for Patroclus. That’s still not a nice thing to hear. Achilles finds him hiding in an olive grove and they have a sweet talk about it. Achilles isn’t even sure how he’d become a god (his mother thinks if he becomes famous enough, the gods will favor him and bring him into the gang. It’s happened with half-god heroes before). He’s more interested in being a hero and doesn’t think being immortal sounds fun. Patroclus is relieved by this and they run off to do 12 year old things.

In the next chapter, they’re 13 and so are all the foster boys, so basically this palace is full of puberty right now. Sleeping with the servant girls is very commonplace, but Achilles never wants to (despite his father encouraging him) and Patroclus is too awkward to speak to anyone except for Achilles. But Pat is ALSO THIRTEEN and starting to have sexy dreams himself, just not about servant girls. Patroclus and Achilles are sitting on the beach one day when Patroclus fucking goes for it. He kisses his best friend, and it’s super nice, but Achilles’ reaction is to RUN AWAY. So Pat is immediately like “Wow I fucked up.”

Things only get worse when Achilles’ angry god Mom appears and chokes him out like “You fucked up.” — she’s so pissed at him for doing this, she demands Achilles be sent away from hero training somewhere far off where some mortal kid can’t derail her plans. Things are so awkward between the boys that Patroclus doesn’t even say goodbye when he leaves in the morning. He pretends to be asleep while Achilles looks torn about it. And then his friend is gone.

Poor baby is all sad the next day. So sad, in fact, he wanders out to the woods and has a moment of clarity (or stupidity?) and is like… well I’m no where near the ocean, so I guess it would be safe. And he runs after Achilles (who has a good 6 hour head start on him). Patroclus runs for hours and finally stops to catch his breath, and hears a noise that he thinks is bandits. He’s tackled… but it’s Achilles! — Who had a feeling he could come and fucking WAITED for him. YAY!!

I so expected the next chapter to be “5 years later…” or something. And Achilles comes back after training. But yay! I like this better. The friends get to stay together and everybody is cool about the whole “kissing on the beach” thing and it’s never brought up. Patroclus even has this cute moment when he’s running where he thinks “If I ever see him again, I will do everything in my power to be cool and not piss off his god mom.”

So then Achilles’ teacher shows up because it’s late and he hasn’t arrived at the mountain yet. And to their surprise, he is a CENTAUR!! Like an older, badass centaur named Chiron who has been around longer than most gods. So even though they’re gods and crazy and what they say goes, he has some sway there. I love… that the kids are freaked out by the centaur lol. They’re like CREEPED OUT. And it’s made even worse when they have to ride on his back because it’s getting dark and they need to get up the mountain. This is such 13 year old behavior. They’re being respectful, but Patroclus narrating is like “eeeuuughhh.”

Turns out Chiron is totally cool and teaches them whatever they want to know. It’s not all about fighting (I’m picturing Phil from Disney’s Hercules lol). He teaches them stuff about the forest and healing and surgery and how to cook. And eventually he teaches them how to fight. And when Achilles asks “How am I?”

He’s like… “Umm that prophecy is totally true and you are going to fuck so many people up when you’re grown up. I literally have nothing to teach you. You’re already a god ordained warrior and you’re only going to get stronger.”

Achilles: “Cool! I don’t want to fight in wars yet, though.”

Patroclus: “How about me?”

Chiron: “Nah, you’re pretty bad at this. But did you ever want to be good?”

He’s like… nah, not really. So Chiron is like “Cool! Ima show you kids how to weave baskets!”

One day Achilles’ mom shows up and she is piiiiiiissed. She probably would have killed Patroclus had Chiron not showed up and talked her down from her murder ledge. Whatever he and Achilles say to her makes her agree not to murder Patroclus, so there we go. The years peel by with idyllic days. The way this is written is so beautiful. My fumbling descriptions really don’t do it justice. This book is just tender. It’s so pure and sweet.

So the boys are 16, and even though Patroclus has been pining after Achilles after all these years, he’s been doing such a good job of not being obvious about it. He might get caught staring every now and then, but is otherwise incredibly fearful of 1. Ruining his friendship with Achilles and 2. Being castrated by his angry fish god mom.

There’s a cute part where Patroclus gives him a carved wooden statue for his birthday that is him with a lyre.

Okay so one day, after the boys have a conversation about how much older they both look (there are no mirrors on the mountain lol) — Achilles comes back from a visit with his Mom and says he asked her what she thinks of where they live on the mountain (in this beautiful rose quartz cave with stars painted on the ceiling and just beautiful scenery all around). And she begrudgingly admits that she can’t see them on the mountain. (It’s not explained why, but let’s all take this blessing and not complain)

So with this new found bit of intel, Achilles is like YEP. Ima kiss the heck out of you now. And they have a really sexy but also sweet scene in chapter 10. I appreciate that everything is both sensually and tastefully described. I think it’s pretty obvious that Achilles has liked him all this time too, but was also afraid of his angry god mom killing his friend. They pal around basically being boyfriends for a few weeks and are wondering if they should tell Chiron about their relationship when a messenger from Achilles’ father shows up. He says he needs to return home at once for business.

So dang it. The boys are not happy about this. They would much rather just stay on the mountain and kiss in the crystal cave forever.

They arrive back at the palace and fucking Thetis (angry fish god mom) is on the front steps. Apparently, Helen, the princess Patroclus met when he was 9 years old, has been kidnapped. Some prince from Troy came over and took her, so now everyone is rallying to help.

This line is both horrible and hilarious to me:

Only an easterner would do this. Everyone knew how they dripped with perfume, were corrupt from soft living. A real hero would have taken her outright, with the strength of his sword.

Like it’s okay to kidnap the lady, but do it with honor lol.

Peleus (Achilles’ Dad) announces that not only will he send any man that wishes to go (everyone is like.. clamoring to sign up)… but he informs the crowd that Helen’s Dad had a bunch of heroes promise to protect Helen seven years ago, and Patroclus immediately SHITS HIMSELF. He’s like OH FUCK THAT WAS REAL? I THOUGHT IT WAS A DREAM! Peleus pulls Achilles and Pat aside after dinner and says he thinks this would be a great opportunity for Achilles to lead an army and take down Troy, but Achilles says he’s not into the idea. He says he knows about the oath Patroclus swore, but the boys try to argue that it doesn’t count because his father disowned him. Peleus is surprisingly cool about this and says “Let’s just see how things pan out.”

So the next morning, Patroclus wakes up and Achilles isn’t there. He’s not worried at first. But as the morning goes on, and he looks literally everywhere, even the beach where he goes to visit his scary Mom, Achilles is literally nowhere to be found. He gets it out of Peleus’ advisor that Achilles is with his mother and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. So Patroclus is bummed…. FOR A WHOLE ASS MONTH while Achilles is gone (I guess… we all just… forgot about Helen? Or maybe things move slower in Ancient Greece).

Well either way Patroclus is sick of waiting, so he bursts into the king’s throne room and does this thing… called “supplication”… that I have never heard of before. But he puts a hand on his knee and grabs the king by the jaw, and he DEMANDS that Peleus tell him where Achilles is. Supplication is I guess… the act of… putting a king in a strong hold and it’s some kind of honor-bound thing that makes them have to tell the truth no matter what. (It’s recognized by the gods). It’s not considered a nice or polite thing to do, but apparently it’s a thing. Peleus squeals that Achilles’ Mom took him away to some small island… and I love this transformation from Patroclus. He’s just like “Okay neat, now give me money.”

So the king fucking does, and then he gets on a boat and sails like a badass to some remote little island where everyone sends their princesses to learn how to be sexy. It’s like Ancient Greece charm school island. Patroclus uses a fake name and enters the castle, finds that the king is old and decrepit, the guards are shitty (playing dice), and everything is run by this princess who is crazy beautiful but really shallow.

She invites Patroclus to dinner and invites the girls to dance for him. She joins them. And during their dance Patroclus realizes the princess’ dance partner is FUCKING ACHILLES. DRESSED LIKE A GIRL. Achilles spots him and interrupts the performance to tackle hug him, which sends the princess into a total fit.

APPARENTLY… Thetis the angry fish god mom didn’t want her son fighting in a war?? She thought it was too soon?? So for some reason her solution was to… kidnap him… and force him to pose as a woman on Hot Girl Island until the whole thing blew over. I am very confused at the reasoning there. MOREOVER Thetis forced him to MARRY the princess and have sex with her, so now she’s pregnant!!

Patroclus is of course devastated. Achilles is very uncharacteristically flustered and feels awful. His mom basically forced him to and promised that if he had sex with this broad, she’d go fetch Patroclus and bring him here. Patroclus is like “Oh my god you sweet dumb boyfriend, she NEVER DID. I had to put your father in a chokehold to figure out where you are.” And Achilles realizes he’s been tricked and feels bad.

They work it all out though and return to the palace. The old king is surprisingly fine with all of this as long as the baby gets to keep Achilles’ name. And Achilles, who is usually the nicest dude ever, is so cold to this princess. He’s not mean to her? But he acts like she’s invisible. Even Patroclus is like “Dude cut her some slack. She was tricked as much as you were.” But Achilles is all “Nope. I love nothing except my boyfriend.”

LIKE WHAT IS THETIS THE ANGRY FISH WOMAN UP TO?? I thought (and so did Pat) that she WANTED him to fight. Why was he even summoned back then?? If she wanted to keep him safe he could have just stayed on the mountain banging in the crystal cave.

I will hand it to this book, it keeps taking turns I didn’t see coming. Twice now I expected Achilles to be taken away and come back some battle-hardened, evil dude or something.

But to hear he’s just been crossdressing and hiding from war is pretty unexpected.

Oh geez so one night, Diedemantra (that is not her name. I can’t remember anyone’s name) — the PRINCESS has some guards go and grab Patroclus and she demands an audience with him. She says some truly awful things to him, about how ugly he is and she can’t believe Achilles chose him over her and she just SOBS for like a really long time, and Patroclus… because he is a sweet boy… actually really wants to comfort her. This quickly turns sexual. He totally isn’t into it, but she’s like… DEMANDING. And he goes through with it because I think he feels really sympathetic towards her? This is a wild scene and I can’t believe Pat does this… It’s Chapter 13 and he doesn’t really clarify if he ever tells Achilles, but it seems to bring both of them some closure. Achilles for feeling betrayed over them sleeping together, and Diedreoamtis over knowing Achilles is going to leave and he’ll never see him again.

So the whole time she’s gone, in isolation because she’s pregant, the boys have to stay at this island palace. Thetis still wants to keep Achilles hidden and away from the war, so he has to keep pretending to be a woman and Pat has to keep pretending to be Chirondes, some random dude who lives there now.

One day, a ship comes. And it’s carrying Odysseus and Diomedes, who threaten to tell everyone Achilles has been crossdressing if he doesn’t come fight in this war. They ALSO drop a bomb that Thetis hasn’t told them the full prophecy.

Achilles will be the greatest warrior that ever lived if and only if he goes to fight in Troy. If he doesn’t, he will start losing his god powers and wither away and die old and useless and having never done anything with this life. Oh, ALSO? If he goes to Troy he’s going to die. He’ll die young and die a crazy famous hero.

WHAT THE FUCK??

I’m over here with Patroclus like… about to cry.

But Achilles can’t imagine a life withering away and not achieving greatness. Pat totally understands… so our boys are OFF TO WAR. But not before Patroclus goes up on a mountain to scream at Thetis like a little badass. I love how gentle he is. And how soft. Until he’s pissed off and then he’s the ballsiest dude ever— grabbing kings by their chins. Screaming at goddesses that hate him. He gets out of Thetis that there’s more to the prophecy. That Achilles will die if Hector dies first. So we don’t know who Hector is, but Patroclus is like “Okay now we gotta keep this asshole from dying.” Thetis has also gotta be touched at how much Pat cares about defying the prophecy and saving his boyfriend. But she is also so SO PISSED at mortal men.

Alright so our boys are off to war.

Everyone sails to Troy. When they get to the island before Troy, the wind just STOPS because apparently Artemis is pissed off that there’s about to be so much bloodshed. So the kings are like “Hey let’s have a wedding to appease the gods and make a big sacrifice with cows and stuff.” — One of the kings has his 14 year old daughter brought in. And she’s all excited, thinking she is going to marry Achilles (he agreed, because why the fuck not. They need that wind.) — and the kings fucking AMBUSH HER and KILL HER as a human sacrifice before she or Achilles knows what’s going on. And it traumatizes him for a good few days. Sweet baby has never seen anyone die before. So this war is off to a great start.

But Artemis, like a fucking weirdo, is like “Okay thanks for slaughtering that 14 year old. I’m done being pissed now. Enjoy your war.” So the wind comes back. And the war starts. And after a few days of wallowing, Achilles goes out there and does the thing. He’s even the first person to throw a spear and kill a Trojan, which is great for morale. Achilles and Patroclus realize pretty quickly that Achilles is totally made for war. He’s CRAZY GOOD AT IT. So whatever trauma he was getting over heals very quickly, and our boy becomes a killing machine overnight.

Achilles doesn’t enjoy the MURDER part of it. He never hurts anyone that is unarmed. Only people that are coming at him with the intention of killing him, but I think he’s pretty entertained at how easy this is for him. Like a game.

Patroclus, sweet baby, is forced to fight at some point. Everyone is generally cool with him being there as Achilles’ companion, but eventually he has to play soldier and get in there. The battle sounds terrifying. You feel like you’re right in there with Pat and the noise and the chaos. But no one can touch him. He realizes it’s because of Achilles. ANy time a man looks at Pat and runs at him, Achilles kills them easily. He basically just STANDS THERE the whole time and does nothing and I don’t blame him because that’s what I’d do too.

That’s not to say Pat is useless. He’s really good at surgery and being a doctor and volunteers in the tents. He also encourages Achilles to “claim maidens” aka young girls stolen from the villages they’ve plundered. Only when they get them back to the tent, they clean them up and feed them and make sure they’re safe. The first time he does this, it’s so cute. The girl doesn’t understand Greek so to show her that he means to harm, Patroclus grabs Achilles and kisses him like “See? I don’t want you” lol and she becomes his best friend in the camp beside Achilles. Learns Greek and hangs out with him while his boyfriend is off fighting. She helps more maidens that get brought into their group (all the soldiers are like DAMN Achilles, you horn dog) — having no idea he is hella gay and just saving all these women from THEM.

This war goes on for like 4 years. It’s rumored that Helen doesn’t even like her husband and ran away to Troy for safety. Pretty soon all of the guys get grumpy like WHY ARE WE EVEN HERE? THIS SUCKS!!

It’s also wild to think that Achilles and Pat are like 20 now. Wow.

MOTHER. FUCKER.

I finished this whole ass review/description for this book, and it was perfect, and then my ipad totally crapped out and DELETED IT ALL!!! AAUGHGHGUGHG that hasn’t happened to me in so long… I go through such incredible lengths to make sure I never lose any writing. I’m so gutted.

So here’s like a shitty, watered down version of the last 25% of this book as told by someone a WEEK after they finished it. AUGH!!!!!!! AUGUAGAHGHAUGAGUGH.

Basically… like…okay. This war goes on for fucking ever lol. All the soldiers are pissed. The gods are apparently infighting with each other over this. At one point it’s like, festival time and the humans piss off the gods by arguing with each other, so they put a plague on the war camp. The gods really suck, by the way. Greek gods are just straight up crazy people. Everyone is dying of these horribly painful boils, and Achilles and Argmennon get into an argmennement. Argemenon steals Briesis (original saved maiden) as a personal slight to Achilles, since she’s technically a war prize and apparently not a person? With thoughts and feelings? We’re all horrified.

Achilles starts to get real ego-driven. Pat is over here freaking out because his best friend just got kidnapped and will likely be raped and Achilles is all about his pride and says “Everyone is going to think I’m a weakling. ARGMENNON NEEDS TO APOLOGIZE FIRST!”

So Pat goes to Argemonon’s tent and says Achilles refuses to fight until he apologizes, and if he rapes or hurts Briesis in any way, Achilles is going to use that as an excuse to kill him. So Argmenon is like “Cool bro thanks for the heads up. Real cool of you to betray your boyfriend by telling me this.” and agrees not to hurt Briesis. Pat gets his attention, by the way, by SLITTING HIS WRIST and BLEEDING all over the tent saying “I swear on a blood oath that my words are true! If you hurt that woman Achilles WILL kill you!” And Argemennon is like “JESUS OKAY! I believe you, just STOP bleeding on all my shit!”

Pat goes back to Achilles, and Achilles is PISSED. (But also concerned over Pat’s wrist). He wanted Briesis to get hurt so he’d have an excuse to murder this guy – which again – Pat is just like, horrified by. I should also mention that at some point, Briesis confessed to Pat that she loves him, and wished she could be with him and have kids together. He is hella gay, but loves her like a sister best friend and just really wants to protect her. So Achilles goes on for a few weeks being a dick (Argemnon is also being a dick, but at least he’s not hurting Briesis) – and the Greeks are getting their asses handed to them by the Trojians because Achilles refuses to let his army fight.

Thetis shows up with more grim prophecies from the gods. Like “Achilles will only die after the best of the [M-word-for-their-country-of-origin] dies.” And Pat is like “Huh… you are the best of our men, though. What a weird riddle.” And I’m reading this like…sobbing.

Eventaully the Trojans break into the camp and start murdering everyone and burning the ships.

Pat is begging Achilles at this point (because by now it’s been like 10 years and we have women and children and families in here). He HAS to fight. But Achilles refuses. So Pat comes up with this idea…. “Well what if I put on your armor and pretend to be you, and inspire the men to fight and defend the camp? Then it’s like we rally the troops without you actually having to go back on your stupid, pointless pride?”

And Achilles goes…. “SURE!!”

(It’s more nuanced than that, and to his credit, Achilles is worried sick. Begs the chariot driver to just do a lap and come back ASAP) Normally he’s there to kill anyone who looks at Patroclus.

Pat is so cute wearing this armor, and totally does an incredible job pretending to be Achilles. He even kicks ass and kills a couple people, including this HUGE HULKING GENERAL even though Achilles begged him to not put himself in danger. Well Pat does really well, but ends up dying in battle. Hector kills him. The best of the M-word-country-of-origins is dead.

The soldiers manage to bring his body back, but Achilles DOES NOT TAKE THIS WELL.

Just like… totally unhinged broken, hugging the body in his bed all night. Inconsolable. When they finally get him to let go of Pat’s body and have a funeral, Briesis tears into him and says what we’re all thinking: “Dude he’s only dead because of your pride. Everyone loves this kid. He’s like the nicest, sweetest, cutest dude in this camp. He knew everyone’s name. He delivered all the babies. Like. He only went out there because he wanted to protect us and you were too busy being a prideful dick trying to make a point and HE’S DEAD AND I HATE YOU AND AAHAHHHHHH!!!!” and Achilles is like “I KNOW!!! DON’T YOU THINK I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING MURDERED NOW? Bring on the prophecy. I’m done. I’m so fucking done. Let’s do this. Where’s my sword?”

So Achilles spends the next few days being a fucking demon on the battlefield. He murders a great many important people, including injuring a river god. Like he’s just unstoppable. He kills Hector. Then… weirdly… drags his body behind the chariot and like… drags it around camp for a few days. FOR A FEW DAYS. Just beating it up for funnies. Like a crazy person.

Eventually though, he gets shot by Paris with a special arrow from Apollo. And he dies.

All of this is relayed to us by Pat, by the way, who has been here all this time as a spirit. In Greek mythology, you can’t pass on to the underworld until you get 1. A funeral and 2. A tombstone. Everyone knew Achilles was going to die eventually, so they put his ashes with Patroclus’ ashes (as he requested). Pat wonders if he can feel it when their ashes are combined, but he can’t. He can’t see Achilles until they’re both in the underworld.

So one day this little piece of shit named Pyyros comes to the camp. He is Achilles’ son that Thetis stole and raised to be a bloodthirsty asshole away from humans. And he’s basically Geoffrey. He’s also, hypothetically, what Achilles could have been if he wasn’t raised by his father and grew up with someone sweet like Patroclus.

Pyyros is 12, but he’s like… horrible. With his help, they eventually topple Troy. But he also wants to rape all the women in the camp, and when Briesis runs, he kills her with a spear. HATE HIM. Also?? When the kings ask him what he wants to do with Achilles and Patroclus’ grave, he’s like “Fuck Patroclus. Leave him off the tombstone. He’s a nobody.”

So ghost Pat is like… HORRIFIED. This means he’ll be trapped on earth forever. He haunts Odysseus’ dreams and begs him to try to change this kid’s mind, and he tries, but fails.

So the book ends with Ghost Patroclus sitting (and sobbing) by Achilles’ grave, watching tourists come and pay their respects for months or possibly even years. Meanwhile, Pyyros gets murdered on the ship home becasue the kings collectively decide he’s an asshole. I’m glad everyone can agree on something for once. Like murdering this awful demon child.

Thetis shows up and talks to Pat. She’s still cold, but oddly remorseful. She asks Pat to tell her everything he remembers about Achilles. And Pat gushes for paragraphs and paragraphs about all of their happy memories. And the great, kind person Achilles was before he got tainted by war and the promise of greatness. Thetis probbaly has a growth moment, realizing HEY maybe there’s more to life than training your kids to be unstoppable killing machines. This whole final chapter is so sweet. Patroclus, despite everything, loves Achilles so much. And Achilles, even though his ego got in his way near the end there, really always loved Patroclus. He never wanted him to get hurt or be put in danger.

Thetis surprises Pat by writing his name on the tombstone next to Achilles’, and he gets transported to the underworld immediately. And there he reunites with Achilles, and that’s the end of the story.

Here’s that excerpt:

“I have done it,” she says.

At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. ACHILLES, it reads. And beside it, PATROCLUS.

“Go,” she says. “He waits for you.”

IN THE DARKNESS, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun.

When I picked up this book, I didn’t know it was a retelling of the Iliad. And my stupid uncultured ass had never read the Iliad. But what the author did that was so cool was she took a character, Patroclus, who was pretty minor in the original story, and wrote the book from his perspective. And blew out this whole beautiful romance between him and Achilles, when apparently this is only speculated in the ancient text (But I mean… Achilles going berserk with anger after Pat gets killed is pretty telling).

In my original review, I wrote that I had a little trouble connecting to the characters. I think just because of all the formal ancient-speak. But after a week of thinking on it, I take that back. I really love how pure Patroclus is. He’s just so GOOD and so sweet and gentile in a world that is raw and barbaric and cruel. You experience the outrage with him. This feeling of standing around a war wondering why we’re even fucking doing this when Helen doesn’t want to be rescued at all. It’s just an excuse for a bunch of men to flex their power and get a bunch of people killed.

I like Achilles a little more now that I’ve had time to percolate on him. He’s dealing with having been primed for greatness since birth, and taught to seek his value in that. Also, he was told his choices were basically to persue greatness or wither away into uselessness. So of course he got really prideful and easily insulted near the end there. It was hella shitty that he was willing to have Briesis and a bunch of innocent people killed to make his point. That was where he messed up. And that’s why Pat became almost like… a sacrifice for that decision. Which Achilles was properly devastated by.

These boys love each other so much and feel so star crossed in a world that feels determined to ruin it for them. I loved the last chapter where Pat and Thetis have a heart to heart and she shows him a great kindness by writing his name on the tombstone. I just loved that.

I’m still going to give this book a 6.5 out of 10, but I really did enjoy it. There were just some parts that were hard to get through because I was so frustrated by the arrogance of Achilles and the kings!!!!

Deadass Rating: 6.5/10

Unofficial theme song: “The King” by Lor

#madeline miller #song of achilles #achilles #patroclus #achilles x patroclus #patrochilles #book recommendations #book reviews #deadass book review #book review #deadass book reviews

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johaerys-writes · 2 years

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Achilles/Patroclus | M | 4/10

Summary: Achilles is the young Prince of Phthia, Patroclus is his squire, in a story where they come together, come apart, then find each other all over again.

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Patroclus follows Achilles mindlessly through the winding corridors. Achilles’ steps are swift, steady and sure; Patroclus almost has to jog to keep up with the brisk pace that Achilles has set. His snow white cloak flutters behind him, the flickering light of torches catches in the highlights of his hair.

Achilles climbs the steps to the high keep without once looking back. He doesn't have to. He knows that Patroclus will follow in his wake. He must know. Patroclus’ heart beats hard in his throat when they finally reach the door of the prince’s quarters.

The room is dark and chilly. Nobody has lived here for years, and though Patroclus is certain the servants have been cleaning and airing it often, and making sure it doesn’t go too many days without the fire being lit, there is still a thread of cold and damp clinging to the place. It is as astringently clean as Patroclus left it four years ago, not a speck of dust on any of the shelves or the windowsills. It feels empty and lifeless. Achilles seems to be the only thing pulsing with life in the midst of it.

It is odd, being here after so long. Patroclus can’t quite believe that this same morning he was on the road with the frozen wind in his face, and tonight he’s here, in the prince’s room. The room that has haunted his sleep and his waking hours for years; the memories that they’ve both created here. On the wide bed there is still the blanket they’d often drag in front of the fireplace to cover themselves, telling jokes and stories to each other all night. There, on the shelf next to the window, there is the book of poems that Achilles would have Patroclus read to him by trembling candlelight, over and over, before falling asleep on his shoulder; and there, on the dresser, is the ivory brush Patroclus would run through Achilles’ hair every morning, every evening.

The memories are so many, too much, too fast. Patroclus is helpless under the force of this onslaught. He isn’t who he was when he was last here. He’s lived too much, seen too much; the weight of it is heavy on his shoulders. He isn’t the same boy that used to lie on the prince’s bed, listening in rapture while Achilles played the lyre, his own mother’s lyre; yet, somehow, his heart aches with yearning just as deeply as it used to.

Achilles stands in the middle of the room, immobile. He seems as out of place as Patroclus feels, almost lost; for a long moment they're both silent, gazing at each other, not quite knowing what to say.

It’s been so long since he’s performed the duties of a squire, that Patroclus has to remind himself every step.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs. “Allow me to light the fire for you. You must be cold after your ride here.” He bows hastily and steps towards the fireplace.

Achilles catches his hand.

Patroclus’ pulse skips a beat. A tingle runs up his arm with the sudden heat of Achilles’ fingers on his bare skin, like static charge. Achilles’ eyes are on him, and for the first time, perhaps ever, Patroclus realises how difficult it is to hold that unflinching stare.

“Where were you?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus flushes. He casts his eyes downward, where they’re touching, Achilles’ slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. His own hand looks almost black against Achilles’ fair skin, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are covered with callouses from long years of hard work and sword practice. He must look an absolute mess, and that in itself is an insult. A squire is meant to reflect his lord’s grace, and there Patroclus is, looking as if he’s physically crawled through a bog to get there.

“At the border,” he murmurs quietly. “I was— in the North. Border duty. Been there for… years.”

“At the border.” A pause; a sharp, shocked silence. “My father— did he send you there?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean— I was just told to go. The Captain of the Guard said I was needed there. That’s all I know.”

Patroclus braves a glance up at Achilles’ face. Achilles’ brows are drawn in a frown. He's looking at him as if he doesn't understand a word of what Patroclus has told him.

The prince's lips part. He takes breath as if to speak, but the knock on the door stops him. He stiffens and straightens, collecting himself. “Come in,” he says.

A throng of servants enter, bearing a copper tub and water for the prince’s bath. The smells of soap and scented oils enter alongside them. Patroclus and Achilles both watch them in a daze as they all get to work without a word. As soon as the tub is filled with steaming water, the servants gather around the prince to help him out of his clothes.

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #the song of achilles #achilles #patroclus #tsoa #hades #hades game #achilles x patroclus #achilles/patroclus #twin flames #johaerys writes

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udaberriwrites · 1 year

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Fic Writer Self Rec

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Oooh, a chance to ramble about my fics, I see, well let's do this! Thank you, @sliebman10!

Let's tag... @mikaharuka , @alpaca-clouds , @thememoryofthatday , @sapphosewrites , @axolotlsupremacyowo , @0nelittlebirdtoldme , @kayedium-writes and @tsunderewatermelon !

Ok, ok, so... as usual, I'm going to be jumping around, because you guys know how my attention span can be xD

1. Life is a Rollercoaster; or Tao Xu's Fight Against the Big Butterfly of Doom (Heartstopper | 11.1k | Fluff, Humor, Time Travel)

Tao got the chance to go back in time and undo his worst mistake. Tao prevented Charlie from being outed or bullied. Tao changed things enough that, the second time around, Charlie didn't get assigned the seat next to Nick Nelson in form.

…Fuck.

Or: the Butterfly Effect sucks, and if Tao has to take desperate measures to ensure his friend's happiness, he will. He draws the line at Iron Man 2 though, someone has to keep some standards around here.

I binged the show and immediately got the urge to write something for it, but I didn't expect it to blow up as it did! I had fun with this one, and the readers were super nice and encouraging, plus sharing this one is what led me to eventually meet @mikaharuka as we rambled over our fics, so for that alone it's always going to have a special significance for me 😁

2. Neither Grief Nor Glory (TSOA/Hades | 7.6k | Angst, Smut)

Dying had been a relief, but death is turning into its own kind of torment.

Dying was just the beginning. Achilles' journey back to Patroclus is a long and twisted one. Along the way he'll have to confront his unaddressed grief, face his many regrets and learn to truly become a man worthy of Patroclus' unconditional love.

But like all journeys, eventually he'll reach his safe harbor.

My first yuletide! This one took months and a couple of minor breakdowns, but the end result is something I am very proud of, both in terms of the prose and the worldbuilding. And my giftee left the loveliest comment ☺️

3. All That Matters (Asterix the Gaul | 2.6k | Character Study, Queerplatonic Relationships)

Asterix has always felt different, but he has Obelix, and that is usually enough. Everybody else has questions, however, and he grows tired of answering.

"He wants to shout, even if he still doesn't know what he wants to say, even if he knows that if he lets his frustration take hold of his tongue, he will regret the harm he will cause."

This was... very, very cathartic to write. I remember rewriting sections of this so often, and I am humbled by the response it had. It was a very validating experience.

4. Life is a Flower, Love is the Honey (Deep Space Nine | 9.5k | Romance and Fluff)

“I don’t think Julian would like that,” Leeta said, without pausing to think about it, but… “We could ask him,” Rom had replied. And wasn’t that an interesting idea?

(A self-indulgent, mostly Rom-centric, Julian/Leeta/Rom fic because I was re-watching ‘Bar Association’ and this happened. I have no regrets.)

The one that brought me back into writing, after several years of hiatus... and the one that gave me confidence to push on, even if I nearly backed out due to it featuring a strange rarepair. This story is always going to be special for me <3

4. When You Speak, I Hear Silence (Deep Space Nine | 1.8k | Friendship)

Terok Nor is no more, and strange new aliens are coming to the newly named Deep Space Nine. Nog doesn't expect life to change; but then he finds a friend, who gives him the greatest gift he will ever receive.

If there's a fic where I wouldn't change a single word or a moment of the writing process, it has to be this one. I'm so glad I didn't go with my initial idea, because this version with Jake&Nog just made things click for me ^_^

#tag game #thanks for the tag!#ao3 fic #ao3 favorites #heartstopper fic #tsoa fanfic #asterix #ds9 fic

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lesaltywarlock · 1 year

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Strangers Again

A story I wrote a while ago from the perspective of Achilles when he was summoned in Fate/Memoriam. It’s actually posted on ao3 but I just felt like reposting it on here! Have fun!

He felt it in the ether, like a hook had caught onto his heart and pulled him away. Someone he knew had been summoned, and he knew exactly who it was.

The Rider-Servant Achilles checked his new Master’s door, finding it dark and silent. They were likely asleep, which was good for him. He didn’t feel like getting all buddy-buddy with them anyway.

Sprinting out the back door, Achilles then leapt into the sky spinning around to search for where the tug on his chest felt strongest.

There.

He ran and jumped from rooftop to rooftop into the sparkling heart of New York City. The view must be amazing up here, but his eyes were set on something far more precious than any lights.

On the 57th floor of a massive building was a tiny balcony upon which Achilles landed on. He looked around before peering through the glass door into the home inside. He could only spot so much in the darkness, but just as he tried to open the door, the lights flashed on inside, blinding him for a second.

“Achilles?”

That voice. The voice he could recognize in both life and death, whether soft as a hum or loud as a lion’s roar. After blinking the spots away, he gazed softly at the man standing in the doorway. His soft grey almond eyes crinkled slightly as his lips curled into a smile. He wore a black suit that wrinkled with every step he took towards Achilles.

“Patroclus.”

They melted into each other’s arms, pressing their lips together into a burning kiss. It had been eons since Achilles had felt the touch of his lover, but even now, he could trace each and every feature of Patroclus’ body with no mistake.

“It’s really you, Patroclus.” Achilles pulled away just to drown himself in his lover’s eyes once more. He didn’t know what to do. There were so many things he could do or say, and yet…he felt so overwhelmed by the man’s entire existence that any attempts to speak came out as quiet sobs. “I haven't seen you since—“

“Wait.” Patroclus shushed him. He nervously glanced over his shoulder before pushing Achilles away. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He was taken aback by that. Achilles stepped forward, and Patroclus took a step back. “But…why?”

“We’re Servants now.” He said, “our loyalties lie to our Masters and—“

“Masters be damned!” Rage and frustration built up in his lungs, forcing Achilles to slam down on the balcony’s railing and let out a strained shout into the void that quickly got drowned out by the city noise below. “Why would I care about a pathetic excuse of a Mage when you’re more important than he’ll ever be?!”

Patroclus looked at him, all the kindness and love evaporated from the man’s gaze as he answered with a turned back and a slammed door. The resounding noise of the lock turning followed by the curtains blocking his view shattered his very being. As the city quickly swallowed up the sound of the man’s footsteps, Achilles sank to the ground, unable to carry himself due to the growing hole in his heart. Servants didn’t need oxygen, and yet…he felt as if he was choking. His lungs burned for air, but any attempts to breathe came out as a sputtering cough.

Dusk turned into dawn, and Achilles hadn’t moved a centimeter. He was too dazed to move. Frozen in time, yet his insides burned as hot as the tears flowing from his face. He was a hero, one who never stopped for anyone, but Patroclus…those words snuffed out any spark of courage inside of him.

The sound of a lock turning pulled Achilles out of his misery, and he looked up hoping that Patroclus might’ve changed his mind.

Instead, it was that man from earlier, the one who was supposed to summon him instead of his current Master. His eyes pierced right through Achilles like he wasn’t afraid at all.

“You should leave. Your…” Quinn, or at least that’s what his Master called him, made a disgusted face and waved in his direction, “whatever this is, woke me up too early.”

“I just want Patroclus back.” Achilles muttered.

Quinn rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t want you. Tough shit, now please leave. Aren’t you supposed to be with your Master?”

How someone like his Master was friends with such an…asshole, well, he didn’t know. He was beginning to feel grateful that Quinn wasn’t his Master now. Probably forcing Patroclus to do all sorts of horrible things and just being nothing but cruel.

He must be hurting Patroclus, making him say that stuff. Making him leave.

In a fit of rage, he drew his sword and aimed it directly at Quinn’s chest. Achilles gripped the hilt so tightly that his fingers went numb. “I could kill you right now. If you’re doing something to Patroclus, then you should tell me before I rip that head of yours from your neck.”

Quinn, who hadn't even reacted in the slightest, threw his head back in laughter. He clutched his stomach and wiped the tears from his eyes, smiling even as Achilles pressed the tip of his blade against the man’s chest. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried. Plus, I’m the one keeping your precious love anchored to this world in the first place, so you might want to get that sword out of my face.”

Achilles, against his better judgment, begrudgingly sheathed his blade. It would be better to keep Quinn alive, unfortunately.

“That’s better. Now,” Quinn leaned against the railing, “I haven’t touched Lancer since he got here a few hours ago. Well, I did give him that suit but that’s it.”

“You’re lying.”

“I only speak the truth.” He replied, “and to be honest, I think that his reluctance is because of you.”

“You’re lying!” Achilles screamed, grabbing Quinn by the collar and shoving him against the glass door, hard enough that cracks webbed out from where he slammed him. “I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me what you did to him!”

Hands gripped his shoulders and wrenched him backward before Patroclus raised his arm up to guard his Master, who staggered back, clutching his chest. “And I’ll kill you before you even take a single step towards my Master.”

“Patroclus…please just—“

“He hasn’t done anything to me. Now it’s time to leave, Achilles, before I slit your throat.”

A look of sadness passed through the man’s eyes, which was quickly replaced by cold rage. “Please…just go, and don’t try this again. Next time we meet, I might not be this kind.”

“Patroclus…..” Achilles said again, softer this time. “Don’t you want to be with me?”

“Go.” He commanded, tears beginning to stream down his face. “From now on, you and I are strangers. I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me.”

Gritting his teeth, Achilles turned and jumped off. As the air whipped around him, he stole one final glance back up at the balcony. Patroclus and Quinn were already gone.

“I’ll save you, Patroclus.” He promised, “we’ll be together again soon.”

In spirit form, it was a quick trip back to his Master’s house. He arrived just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, casting its glow over the sleepless city. Patroclus would’ve loved this view.

The constant sound of tapping alerted him as he walked up the stairs. Achilles went into his spirit form again, not wanting to have to deal with his Master waking up, only to find that he was still awake, tapping away at some weird…rectangle thingy. The information the Grail gave him told him that it was called a “keyboard”, used to “type” on a “computer”.

Achilles moved in closer, examining the man’s face as he flitted between images on the computer. His eyes drooped every now and then, and Jace fell forward only to catch himself at the last second before he would collide with the screen. He grunted, perhaps in frustration, and placed a hand over his chest, which started to glow with warm golden energy.

A few seconds later, he went straight back to work, although this time, he had more vigor.

Has he been awake the entire night?

Curious as to what could keep his Master up, he stared at the massive screen in front of them, finding many pages filled to the brim with information on spells, incantations, and most importantly, the history of the Holy Grail Wars. Every now and then, Jace would bring his hands together and summon a ball of energy, whether it be forged from ice, fire, or otherwise.

Each spell seemed to suck the life out of him, causing frost to cling to his fingertips which he dusted off on his shoulder. Hell, it looked as if it drained his skin of all life and color. He must be exhausted, and yet, Achilles himself didn’t feel an ounce of fatigue despite his Master’s apparent lack of energy. Perhaps, most of Jace’s remaining Mana must be going to him, even if it meant some sort of damage to his body.

How…selfless of him. Suddenly, Achilles was starting to feel bad for some of the things he said to Patroclus earlier. Still, Jace couldn’t be anything more than the usual conniving Mage who only uses Servants for their bidding. Selfless or not, they’re usually all the same. His priority was winning and reuniting with Patroclus, nothing more.

And yet…maybe there’s more to Jace than meets the eye, especially when he asked about resurrecting someone with the Grail. Maybe they had similar interests, which would definitely benefit them both.

Well, there’s not much he could do but wait and see how things develop. Jace can’t be trusted just yet, Master or not.

#fate grand order #fgo #Fate/Memoriam #writing #My fic #achilles fgo #patroclus #patrochilles #I love how much of an ass Quinn is #Achilles is angy #Oh boy I sure hope this doesn't have dire consequences in the future

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