And the dad of the year award goes to:

-You shouldn’t be here.

-Neither should you.

Karavaki Date Nights

Here is my contribution to the Our Favourite Holidays Zine for @ofs-zine ! Featuring a happy Patrochilles in a Greek Christmas tradition of decorating boats with lights!

The digital zine + some leftover physical zines are still available for purchase via the kofi store! All profits go to OutRight International, an LGBTQ+ charity!

He is half of my soul

I know him in death.

COMMISSIONS CLOSED!

Please DM me for queries or if you’re interested!

Reblogs are highly appreciated!

This, and this, and this

Some soft Patrochilles for once <3 cuz I always draw them in angst

metis-metis:

Patroclus in modern media: uwu sweet baby gay; he’s so nice and would never hurt anyone he’s just Achilles’ housewife

Patroclus in the Iliad: makes it all the way across the battlefield from the camp to the walls of Troy; throws a stone and hits the charioteer of Hector so hard that HIS EYEBALLS FALL OUT OF HIS HEAD ONTO THE GROUND IN FRONT OF HIM; proceeds to laugh and take the piss out of him; charges at Hector ‘with all the force of the war god’; literally described as having ‘evil intentions’. Can, would and will enjoy killing a bitch with no remorse.

no this is true though

Patroclus has the third highest kill count in the Iliad (behind Diomedes and Hector), but he also doesn’t kill anyone who’s asleep 

see this helpful infographic: https://greekmythcomix.com/comic/deaths-in-the-iliad-a-classics-infographic/ 

the curse of my death is that

i am with you

through your madness,

stranded and unable

to save you.

— and they say it is mercy

i think about you when the sun dips low to kiss the earth

and the night engulfs the empty sky in an embrace

because i know that in silence,

that is when you are alive.

— death, please come for me too

i think,

they will perish,

and yet my lips are silent—

they are sealed even when i am screaming

within my head;

i think,

they are unloved by the gods,

and pretend that i do not know—

i turn away from the noise within the wind

because they are just children;

i think,

he will lose his love,

but i do not know who i mean.

— secrets in pelion

i found love in you;

i found myself in war.

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—

what is my legacy without you?

frantic denials

we are children running on the shore,

sand creeping in the spaces of our toes

as we stomp hard enough to leave a mark

because this is all i know the world will remember me for.

we are children running on the shore,

feet never truly touching the sea

because something lives underneath the waves

and you always try to protect me from her.

we are children running on the shore,

hands clasped tightly with each other’s

as we cherish the times we have left to spend;

marking the days we did not know were counted.

and then i was a ghost stuck on the trojan shore,

desperate, and yet unknowing how, to come back to you.

— pyrrhus, why?

my love,

our souls have been bound longer than time can tell.

when i cursed my father for sending me away,

i did not know that it was but a thread in fate’s woven tale.

all of my shortcomings were meant to lead me to you;

the weakness of my hands

and the fear in my heart –

they all were telling me to come to you.

so my love,

this time around,

come to me quickly.

let not even death separate us.

just like how you were waiting for me in phthia,

i will be waiting for you from our tombs.

— from his ashes

mother,

am i selfish for being afraid

and angry

at the prospect of him loving another

once i am gone?

she said,

he will rather slice his own neck

than love someone not you.

i preen at her reply.

— am i like peleus?

so many times i have lain awake in silence,

hands pawing at the emptiness seated within my ribs

as though they knew that i am never myself without you.

so many times i have whispered your name,

the only part of you that i possess,

in hopes that it will satiate the desire i have for you

growing in me.

so many times i have wished for this day to come;

when my love is fully returned,

and my heart now whole as you offer me the half of yours.

so many times i have prepared myself for you,

but nothing ever prepared me for the loss that love would bring with it too.

— this is what i will lose

he weeps in his solitude

and calls for my name

as though it would bring life back to me;

as though it would bring me back to him.

—pa-tro-clus

i remember the figs and the grass

and the quiet in mount pelion.

i remember the casual looks

driven by unnamed feelings,

unsaid but not unrequited.

i remember master’s stories

and the lessons he imparted with us,

and i remember loving each shared moments—

those that we did not know were numbered.

i remember my skepticism in some of his teachings

but now i think of how true his words had become;

the greatest grief, after all,

was sending you to your death

while life continued to run through my veins.

philtatos,

we were separated once again.

-his blessings amidst our curse

the scent of pomegranates filter through the chasm

and i turn, hoping to see you—

you have never outgrew the smell of pomegranates on your neck and sandalwood on your legs—

but it is simply the goddess,

whom is beautiful beyond words to compare,

but never as beautiful as you.

she breaks the fruit open and hands me the seeds

and it feels like kissing you once again.

they do not tell me where you are

but surely, you were not meant to be in the asphodel meadows

where my mere soul rests.

it seems, my love, that even in the afterlife

the gods do not favour us.

- semantics of the dead

he grieves in silence;

continues on for days as though

he does not know how to live without me.

he has won the war

but he does not dare to celebrate,

and the life in his eyes leave

as if it were his ashes in the urn.

“who do you blame?” the god of the dead asks.

myself.

i do not answer.

- from the other side