vampires have been drinking human blood for centuries they don't give a fuck about guys on eight different antidepressants. they were sucking on asbestos factory workers
Poseidon does not regret his son's birth, but he doesn't know how else to phrase it to him.
how do you tell a 12 year-old boy, an infant in comparison to you and your kin, that his life will be hardship after hardship, trial after trial, full of grief and pain and terror, but Poseidon was glad he was born anyway? that his fate will never be a kind one, will be sad at best, cruel at worst, that there will be times he will wish he was dead, that he will wish he was normal, that he will wish Poseidon truly was a myth, but that you are glad his is your son regardless? how do you tell him that you wouldn't have it any other way? that his pain will be because he is yours, but that you are glad he is yours anyway?
do you tell this boy that you love him, that his cursed existence will bring him pain unimaginable, but that's okay, because he is yours? or do you tell him that you regret, that you feel for him, that you wish it was different?
hmmm why does my uterus hurt and why do i feel kinda off. weird. surely these are not the warning symptoms of a predictable biological process that occurs on a regular schedule. anyway. im going to wear white pants today.
My one friend group can't stop saying, "See you in hell!" in a cheerful voice instead of, "Talk to you later!" and my other friend group can't stop calling things "penis" instead of "cool" or "good", so I just unironically uttered the phrase, "Sounds penis, see you in hell," as I got off the phone.
@fictiondaily mission 4: dyanimcs -> Achilles and Patroclus
I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth. As if he had heard me, he reached for my hand. I did not need to look; his fingers were etched into my memory, slender and petal-veined, strong and quick and never wrong.
“Patroclus,” he said. He was always better with words than I.