delusional-mess:

thaliasthunder:

achilles: why do people say im like a golden retriever?

patroclus: because you’re athletic and active

odysseus: because you’re annoying

Because he is a little bitch.

Because he is a cute little bitch

missplath-again:

quotemadness:

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever.”

— Alfred Lord Tennyson

Me to Patrochilles

And now to FirstPrince

No Dreaming for Those Who Have Died

1. Achilles

Hypnos had waited long before this moment to turn around. It was ironic that something of his own doing had been plaguing the House for such a time, and yet he had not felt the need to bring it up until now.

It was rare for Shades to sleep, especially ones who were on duty. But since Zagreus had started going out into the realms so often, it was not necessary for Achilles to be at attention in his post forever. The Master of the House had hardly noticed when Achilles would take slips into other rooms, or would retire for a little while when he got bored of the West Wing itself. Hypnos had wondered if he would pick up one of Orpheus’ discarded lyres one of these days, but found it to be only wishful thinking. Achilles would likely not press what little freedom he had.

It was when Achilles had actually gone to sleepthat Hypnos first began to worry. The Chthonic God wondered if he should mention something to the Shade’s Prince and ward, but had decided against it for a little while. Cruel as it was, Hypnos craved a little entertainment. So instead, he watched carefully, curious as to where this would lead.

He had not had to wait long, in the end. After all, he was the head administration for dreams and sleep and all of that business; so, when Achilles had retired to somewhere within the House and chosen to close his eyes, Hypnos found himself suddenly drawn to the subconscious. 

That had happened dozens of times. More and more frequently with each passing… day, or night, or however long. Point was, it was concerning.

Finally, Hypnos’ meager sense of responsibility had gotten the better of him. There was a lull in death traffic, not that it would have mattered, so he let his bare feet rest on the cool floor of the House’s stone, and padded into the West Wing. 

Achilles looked up, blue eyes sparking in mild surprise when Hypnos stood before him. 

“Your Grace,” the soldier nodded. Hypnos smiled just slightly, always flattered by the respect the Shade had for him despite their rare interactions in the waking world. 

“Achilles, I… wanted to ask you a question.” Hypnos twisted his hands in the hem of his cloak before folding them in his lap altogether. His feet left the floor, and he crossed his legs comfortably beneath himself, hovering. It was more comfortable this way, kept safe under his wide red clothing. 

Achilles’ posture relaxed slightly at Hypnos’ casual gesture, but the set expression of his face and scrutinizing gaze of his eyes betrayed how he still remained on edge. “Ask away.”

Suddenly, Hypnos faltered. Achilles’ set features, the - well, for lack of a better word, dead - tone he used unsettling what confidence had led the Sleep God here. Part of him wished he would hear the distant sloshing of Zagreus emerging from the river, soon. Another part of him wished Lord Hades himself would bellow at them for their carelessness and send them sheepishly back to their posts. But it remained silent, wide and bright golden eyes staring into bright blue, although dimmed by death itself. 

“Your Grace?” Achilles prodded, voice softer. 

“Why do you keep asking to dream of him? It always… When I give you the reins like that, it always ends badly.” Hypnos cringed at his poor choice of words, give you the reins. “Sorry…”

Achilles straightened, expression going stoic and guarded. He stared at Hypnos, silent, and for a minute Hypnos wondered if he would not answer at all. But all at once, Achilles deflated, a long-suffering sigh leaving his perfect, breathless lips.

“Do not apologize. I do not know. And I’m afraid you’re hardly letting me in control of anything when I do dream.” He grit his teeth and shuffled his sandaled feet, looking down briefly. 

“I’m following what your subconscious wants. I only take full control when someone deserves to be punished, or needs a talking to, oh! Or like a wake-up call, isn’t that funny? Anyways, I…” Hypnos trailed off, sobering up when he saw Achilles’ stare return to the floor.

“Achilles,” Hypnos said, much softer now. “I don’t know any other way to say this. Just stop sleeping.” He laughed incredulously, cringing and hoping the sound did not come off disrespectful. “You don’t need to! If you don’t want to dream about your best friend slash husband slash soulmate getting… well, you know… just stop. I can make it stop, but only if you help me out and don’t fall asleep just waiting for me to walk into your dream.”

“I have to see him, though. I don’t know if you would understand, Your Grace,” Achilles bit out. Something blazed behind those blue eyes, but died out as easily as a spark in the rain. There was no energy for anger and hatred among the good spirits here. 

Hypnos felt an ache. “Not by experience, but… Yeah. I get it. And I’m sorry. I wish I could…” His nervous laugh came out infinitely more dejected, now. “I wish I could actually help. I wish I could give you good dreams about him. But the bad ones are just… so strong.”

“I know. And with all due respect, Your Grace, I wish for more than a dream. But…” Achilles sighed and stamped the butt of his spear on the carpet beneath his feet. “He is lost to me. And that is my doing. So, if I must see him in no more than the most painful of nightmares, then so be it. It is about what I deserve.”

“That’s not how it…” Hypnos sighed quietly. “Not how it works, exactly… Well, anyways, good talk, Achilles. I’ll - um - I’ll see you around.” Hypnos chewed his lip awkwardly, uncomfortable, feeling no progress from this exchange.

“Thank you for stopping by.” Achilles said in farewell, and Hypnos turned to return to his station.

Hypnos wished that was not the first time he’d had an encounter so unsuccessful. Most were like that, rather.

He thought of who else he had visited of late.

———-

[Note: I thought of this while playing last night but did not have time to smash out a draft! I think I want to make this an ongoing drabbles series, of just - Hypnos visiting the people in the Underworld/Olympus he gives dreams to when he shouldn’t have to, them being dead or gods and all. Who should he confront next? What should happen! Send me asks, let me know!]

I finally got time to play Hades again after my hiatus, and one thing really stuck out to me.

Listen, y’all.

I hold the firm belief that since the little chariots meow like cats, then the big chariots must be dogs or horses.

Because for my own sanity and peace of mind, I REFUSE to believe that if I was a legendary hero who died and faded to Elysium…

that there is a chance that I would end up reincarnated as a fucking chariot. 

Imagine being a WARRIOR, a SOLDIER of the ancient empires and passing away gloriously in battle, hoping to reunite with your lover or family in the afterlife, and uhhh

you rock up with those rims and wheels.

That would uhhhhh haha I would be fucking LIVID. 

Anyways that’s what I thought tonight! Big chariots are dogs and horses for my own stability, y’all.

aridante:

just a friendly reminder that june 6th, 1218 b.c. was identified as the day patroclus was killed by hector in the trojan war. patroclus died 3240 years ago today.

I need to share this experience.

I just went to the National Museum Night to the National Museum of History, where a Professor of Classical Literature and Culture gave a lecture about… The Song of Achilles applying principles from fanfiction to the Illiad, giving Patroclus transmotivation to put the canon in a different perspective using the concept of “shipping”.

I loved it.

Her doctorate student had written her thesis on the principles of fanfiction in The Song of Achilles and shipping Patrochilles. What an awesome PhD project is that! Reading The Song of Achilles and gushing about Patrochilles with your supervisor!

And I loved the middle aged man next to me blinking at the screen at a photo of Spock and Kirk giving each other smoldering looks while the Professor was explaining to a full hall the concept of “shipping”.

sing, o muse, of the rage of achilles, son of peleus, that brought countless ills upon achaeans — the iliad, homer.

beforethis:

i.
you wish you could rage against the gods, rage against the sky and the earth and the places below that, rage until hades comes to collect you himself. but death is hollowing, and you are nothing compared to achilles.

ii.
they often ask you why you chose to love a monster. you think of how he could have torn the world apart with his bare hands, yet he used those hands to hold you night after night, wrapped tight around you, to keep you together. you shake you head. you open your mouth, but you don’t have an answer for them.

iii.
achilles was meant to be a god. gods do not kneel for mortals, yet he kisses you like you were the one who should be worshipped. he murmurs your name into your trembling thigh, a name that should not be worthy enough to pass a god’s lips.

iv.
sometimes you wonder if this is what it feels like to love a god, to feel unworthy and overwhelmed by his attention. knowing he could have had anyone he wanted, but he chose you and what you can’t give him.

v.
but most of the time you wonder if this is what it feels like to be in love with a mortal, knowing he will leave you soon. knowing he will succumb to nothingness, oblivion and eventually to hades.

vi.
you wonder if you were worth his godhood.

vii.
achilles was meant to be a soldier, a hero to be worshipped in stories told to children. he was meant to be perfect, untouchable. instead he takes your hand and defies his mother. defies the rest of the world. 

viii.
you wonder if you were worth the death of so many men.

ix.
people come to see his grave as time passes. truths turn into stories, stories into legends, legends into myths. people forget. they do not remember the curve of his smile or the way his hair shone under the sun. they do not mention his beauty could have rivalled helen’s. they do not know how soft his hand felt against yours, and how it became rough after years at war.

x.
they do not remember how he gave up his divinity for a boy like you.

-j.c

This made my heart ache.

geekophiliac:

dudes one of the most comical moments in tsoa is when achilles comes back to their camp on pelion after speaking with thetis and just RUSHES off to bed. like patroclus actively notices that achilles is like “oh chiron you’re soooooo tired pat and i will leave you alone now” and dashes back to the cave, and then when patroclus follows like 5 minutes later achilles is already IN BED waiting and basically blurts out “MY MOM CAN’T SEE US HERE” while looking exclusively at the ceiling bc he’s so nervous!! idk this just makes me chuckle every time i reread it bc achilles was so ready for some action that the very day thetis tells him she can’t see them he makes his oh-so-conspicuous moves

not to mention when pat hears this he freezes and he’s like “um uh” and can’t utter a sentence of his own bc he REALIZES

THIS SEEN MAKES ME SO HAPPY IT ALMOST MAKES UP FOR HOW MUCH I CRIED AT THE END