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#patroculus
simsim54 · 8 months
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i want someone to love me so much that when i die the gods have to intervene in order to save the world from my lover’s wrath
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qyosu · 1 year
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thaliasthunder · 1 year
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achilles would still love patroclus if he was a worm
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inmybook · 1 year
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I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
-Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
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dragonciphering · 1 year
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Gotta love how patroclus spent most of the time basically saying that he was shit at fighting and then went to war and casually killed a son of zeus, as if he was a mere bug
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cantpickafandomtbh · 6 months
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so i’m learning classics in school and my teacher is amazing
we’re learning about Achillies and Patroclus and when someone called them ‘best friends’ he turned around and said ‘Guys, they were boyfriends, let’s just accept it. They were boyfriends.’
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shro-omiey · 8 months
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@wolfythewitch i wanted to share this just cause sorry okay bye *ducks out like quack quack quack*
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mirei-arius · 9 months
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“it’s just begun”
Clever Patroclus
Beloved Patroclus
Poor Patroclus
Achilles did come down
Falling to madness, not vanity
Nor hubris
Patroclus, for his love of that golden-haired demigod
For his name, did your armor don
Every piece of you is willingly given away
After you are gone
Is the rage of Achilles
Left in your wake
A rage for all that is done
And cannot be undone
Wicked things done in your name
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Round 1c - Poll 3
Taranza & Queen Sectonia (Kirby Triple Deluxe) vs Achilles & Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
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jamie-rosemary69 · 5 months
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Abt to write a crack filled SOA fic were Patroclus is being petty and tell’s Achilles not to touch him (mostly messing around). Achilles takes his opinion seriously, so he listens and doesn’t touch him. Patroclus decides to have some fun with it.
The whole thing is told from Odysseus’ POV, he thinks it’s fucking hilarious to see the Aristos Achion beg to hold hands with a fully mortal outcast. It reads a bit like an episode of The Office.
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qyosu · 11 months
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Twitter
🔞Twitter
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crazymiraclecat · 1 year
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Song of Achilles aesthetic - Patrochilles
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agayandaslay · 1 year
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The urge to comment “denial is a river in Egypt” on every single “straight Achilles” oc fanfiction I see.
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dragonciphering · 1 year
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#1 of my brain rots for Hektor-centric fics.
Hektor was known as “The Horse Breaker” or “The Tamer of Horses.” And Poseidon is the “God of the Sea & HORSES.”
So in order to be good with horses, Poseidon must of liked him atleast a little bit. And if this was in a Hades the Game….Hektor could probably get boons from Poseidon (I think.)
And because Odysseus has done some stuff to them (fucking throwing Hektor’s son off the wall and killing him, coming up with the Trojan horse, and the whole thing with the Cyclops in the Odyssey) you can assume that they have a mutual dislike for him.
But what if Poseidon takes a liking to him and just starts showing up and trying to make him his champion by trying to give him random gifts or like charms. Perhaps this is his way of saying “Sorry your home was destroyed, your family murdered/taken, and that your body was treated that way lol. Want to bond over our mutual dislike for Odysseus?” (also don’t think that the gods were very happy with how Achilles treated his body but that might just be me.)
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Imagine Hektor trying his best in Asphodel (or Elysium), vibing with his family, just trying to be a good guy/be a good father to his son, and get over his grief of loosing his home when Poseidon appears:
Poseidon who really wants to annoy Odysseus: “Hello my little horse tamer! I heard you don’t like Odysseus that much! Want to become my champion?”
Hektor trying to be polite because he doesn’t want to anger him: “No thank you. While I am flattered, I am not interested. Plus I’m sure you would find someone better than me who is still alive.”
Poseidon: “Oh come on, don’t you want some revenge?”
Hektor: “I believe that we in death should put aside our differences and try to understand each other and why we did the things we did in life. Even if we have been wronged by another.”
Poseidon: “You sure are a stubborn one! I’ll find something to change your mind!”
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And what if he decides that the gift he’s going to give Hektor is all of Odysseus’s horses. What if Hektor wakes up one morning and just finds a whole bunch of strong horses on his lawn? (And almost gave him and his family a heart attack because of PTSD.)
Perhaps he tells Patroclus about this because he doesn’t know how to explain this to Odysseus. (Hektor and Patroclus made up in this btw)
And Patroclus is just like: “I’m sorry??? What??? Do you mean to tell me that all of Odysseus’s horses are in your lawn and won’t leave??”
Hector feeling like he wants to sleep for a year and letting out a long suffering sigh: “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Oh, and tell Odysseus that if he doesn’t find a way to get them back that they will soon belong to me. It be a shame to waste this opportunity. Another thing, tell him I didn’t do this on purpose.”
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Meanwhile at Odysseus’s house:
Penelope: “Dear, do you know where have all the horses have gone?”
Odysseus having a sneaking suspicion that his life(death?) is about to get a whole lot harder: “What do you mean? Their all in their pens—”
Penelope opening the curtains: “They are not in their pens, Dear, look!”
Odysseus now looking outside:
Odysseus: “Yeah.”
Penelope: “🤨”
Odysseus: “I…I can see what you mean now….where…where are they???”
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Also, imagine the bugging that Poseidon put Zagreus through. Every time he came across a one of his boons he would just be asked/told questions and things about how to win over Hektor or what a good bribe is and how to bribe well.
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lamemaster · 1 year
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Shores of Styx (Achilles x Patroclus)
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Pairing: Achilles x Patroclus
A.N. - I have never written for Achilles and Patroclus and only plan to post the Silm fic on my blog but this...this was a challenge between me and my roommate.
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Patroclus never gets the chance to thank Thetis. His feet move almost on their own as he sees his name on the gravestone. He is free at last, unbound from the limbo between life and death. Death comes with a newfound power that promises peace and rest from the noise of the world. Patroclus's soul travels faster than ever before, leading him to the depths of the underworld, a place he has been denied for so long.
In this world, his beloved resides. But the darkness of the unlit halls of Hades doesn't bother Patroclus, nor do the eerie shadows that have haunted him for so long. While others may have resented this fate, no one in the world has ever yearned for it more than Patroclus.
The silvery gushing waters of Styx greet Patroclus, a river that protected and destroyed his beloved. A river of irony, that separates the living from the dead, a river so formidable that it holds the power to curse the gods. While Styx is known for its hatred, Patroclus finds nothing but joy at its very sight.
He spots the ominously robed Charon, unmistakable despite the tattered dull robes and hood that obscure his face. It is remarkable to believe that the fragile boat, which seems to glide over the unrelenting currents of Styx, has carried shades for eons.
The three gold coins in Patroclus's grasp feel heavier than ever. Their weight had never been so concrete during the eternity he had carried them as a wraith. Three gold coins that his beloved Achilles had placed on both his eyes, the last coin followed by a tearful kiss.
 Their last kiss. Patroclus had witnessed it all, helpless as he watched his beloved break. The fire of his pyre had shattered everything. Even as a wraith, Patroclus had rushed to catch Achilles as he fell to his knees. "Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus," Achilles had called him for hours until the sun rose and time left his voice a hoarse whisper. Achilles had sat unmoving for the entire time Patroclus's pyre burned. Heat, soot, or even the smell of burning flesh did not move him.
When the fire had finally mellowed, leaving behind only ash of what once had been Patroclus, Achilles stood up. His steps were brittle, stumbling in the rough sand next to the roaring seas. Achilles gathered Patroclus's ashes carefully with the most gentle movements. The greatest of Greeks, Son of Thetis and Pelus, a demigod, did the labor of widowed women.
In that moment, Patroclus couldn't help but question if his sacrifice was worth it. Was there any victory, queen, or beauty that could be more valuable than his Achilles? Had he not wronged his lover in the worst possible way? What would he have done if he were the one left alone?
All that he had once valued felt vainer than ever. Achilles' anger, hubris, and stubbornness had vanished from Patroclus' mind. Everything that had once troubled him, that had forced him to fight in his beloved's armor now seemed insignificant. What sin would he not bear to be with his beloved again? What labor, what fate would he not challenge to take away the pain that followed from Achilles' eyes?
Yet, the pain had only grown when Patroclus was denied the chance to love and comfort his beloved even in death. Perhaps it was his penance to bear the separation. His repentance was a due paid to Achilles, the one who suffered most. The one who was isolated from the world, from godhood, from sanity for a war he never asked for.
So, Patroclus' wraith existed as a carrier of memories made of Achilles. For years, Patroclus reminisced about his beloved. Not the rage-engulfed demi-god who turned the tides of the battle, but his lover. Achilles, who played the lyre with the most gentle fingers, whose laugh lit a thousand suns on fire, who was born out of the seas but ruled lands. The Prince of Pithia, who generously offered friendship to him. Achilles was much more than the infamous Hector Slayer. He was the pious fragrance of jasmine, the sweetness of figs, and the comforting shade in the burning summer.
Now, he was closer to his beloved than ever. Achilles was here, in the same realm as him, in the halls of Hades. Patroclus would finally hold his love and assure him. He would take away all the grief and misery that had stretched between them like an unending chasm.
But where would his beloved Achilles be? In the heroic fields of Elysium or the Asphodel Meadows? Patroclus couldn't help but ponder as he anxiously waited for his ferry to touch the shores of Hades' kingdom.
The judgement of the Kings of the Underworld loomed over his head. Would he be given a fate similar to his lover? He needed it, and so did Achilles. They needed to be together after all this... Patroclus would beg once again. He would grovel for an eternity next to Achilles.
As the shore drew closer, Patroclus found his thoughts breaking away from the past that gripped his heart. He reassured himself of the future that awaited them. Death would be kinder.
However, as Charon slowed down his boat with approaching land, Patroclus couldn't help but notice a crouched figure on the other end of the shore. What wandering shade had been left unjudged on the solitary shores?
As Patroclus disembarks from the boat, he spots a crouched figure with a ripped tunic barely covering the fresh wounds on their back. The sight of the person, as if their skin has been ripped off by a whip, makes Patroclus recall his past life as a healer. He feels a strong urge to help the tortured soul in front of him, even in death.
As Patroclus approaches the figure, he realizes that it is none other than Aristos Achaion, whom he had promised to recognize even in death. The memory of his promise floods back to him, but he struggles to remember who Aristos Achaion was.
Overcome with emotion, Patroclus falls to his knees beside the figure, who turns out to be Achilles. But the Achilles he sees is not the great Greek hero he once knew. He is a broken, tortured shell of his former self, with blisters, missing fingernails, and a bleeding scalp.
Patroclus tries to reach out to his beloved, but Achilles flinches away, chanting a desperate plea to go. His glazed eyes hold no recognition of Patroclus or their past life together. All the memories Patroclus cherished are gone, and Achilles is lost to him forever.
A venomous voice whispers in Patroclus' mind, blaming him for letting Achilles go. The pain of the loss is too much to bear, and Patroclus can only repeat, "He's gone, no, no, no, no..."
Aristos Achaion had vanished. The person who now groveled at the unforgiving walls with bloodied fingers was not the greatest of the Greeks. His Achilles would have known him, and responded to Patroclus' mere breath.
“Achilles,” Patroclus called out to his beloved, but only silence welcomed him. The figure next to him continued scratching at the walls that refused to yield to his force.
Patroclus inched forward to touch his beloved, to carry him back to Elysium where heroes like him lived. But Achilles flinched. “Go...I need...go, must go…” the figure chanted.
“Achilles...please,” Patroclus pleaded. Please come back. Achilles' glazed-back eyes looked back at him, holding no recognition. His beloved did not smile, cry, or utter his name with the determination he had done long ago.
Patroclus' vision blurred as he took in his lover's appearance. His hands were full of blisters, his fingernails had fallen off, his golden hair had been ripped, leaving a bleeding scalp. Every pore of the figure next to him spoke of ruin.
Gone was the wrath, the love, and the life that formed Achilles' soul. Memories that Patroclus had carried for eons were gone. Achilles was gone.
Patroclus crouched next to the figure that shuddered as it tried to shuffle away from him. A venomous voice whispered in Patroclus' mind, "He's hiding, or escaping from whatever torture reigned on him on these shores."
"He's gone because YOU let him go," the voice continued. "He's gone, no, no, no, no..."
Now, as she observed him digging his fingers into the unrelenting walls of Hades' palace, she couldn't help but mellow her currents. She had known him and his mother, and for some reason, even the river of hatred felt a sense of pity.
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Styx remembered the man who knelt by her. She remembered him from the time when he was a mere babe.
Achilles Pledis knelt next to her as he called for a name that faded away from him every passing second. A name that was once uttered with the certainty of day and night was now a hushed whisper from a hoarse throat.
Styx observed the Greek hero as he persevered through the harsh whips of guards who tried to drag him back. Yet, he did not go. Achilles remained by her shores. Resentful souls in her body itched to get a hold of the vulnerable demigod.
But Styx held them back. She would spare him of this torture.
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