#and in his final battle with achilles they do not come together naturally on the battlefield. the rest of the trojans have fled inside

[wizardnaturalist]

fascinated by this idea that hector went to his death nobly, accepting? he died begging

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Ares

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares

Lucifer

He cannot overstate what kind of damage this mortal was able to do in their first few seconds in the Devildom...

The instant they got to their feet, they had managed to incapacitate Satan and knock down Beel. Lucifer himself tried to get between them and Diavolo but…

If he hadn’t moved his head, if he was standing just ONE INCH to the left… he wouldn’t have a head anymore. Barbatos was there to intervene, but had he not they could have probably taken out the Avatar of Pride and done critical damage to the Demon Prince himself in one strike...

Frankly, Lucifer prefers not to dwell on that moment... He's sure Ares must be proud of this one...

He pretty much treats the mortal like a live bomb afterward, if he can get away with not interacting with them at all, that’s what he’ll do.

He’s NOT scared of them... much... It’s just that they have a bullish and uncooperative attitude at best and since they know they can take any of them, they don't even consider him - Lucifer, the eldest demon brother - a threat...

But you know what the most frustrating thing is? They won't give him an inch of respect, but they'll always listen to Levi! Levi!!

Look, Lucifer knows he may not hold a rank among the Hell's army and he might not have been a major player in the Celestial/Demonic wars of the day, but he's still the strongest demons here, dammit!! 😡

Lucifer finds nothing is more embarrassing than having to ask Levi of all people to keep the mortal in line because he can't... Oh, the humiliation… He hopes they leave soon...

Mammon

At first, he thought they were scary. But in time he thought they were scary… and also pretty damn awkward.

Mammon wasn’t there when they more or less wiped out the majority of his brothers in the Conference Hall but when he finally showed up he'd never seen Lucifer look so pale… If THAT doesn't make you shit your pants, he doesn't know what will.

Naturally, he kind of toned it down on the "stupid human" stuff real quick after seeing that…

But here's the thing. After the two made a pact together, Mammon started to notice that the MC wasn't all that mean, they were just… violent?

He legitimately thought that they couldn’t stand him for a while until one day a guy on the street called him a dirtbag. The MC threw a punch right there! No questions asked, they just decked that guy!!

It was kind of touching… and messy. Very messy. Did he mention that they’re terrifying yet? 😥

As it turns out, the MC has apparently spent a lot of their life just fighting things and being asked to fight things so they're not very used to showing non-violent affection… 

It took him awhile, but he realized that their way of saying, "I like you," is, "I will attack your enemies." So now all he does when his brothers tease him is say, "I'm telling MC!'' and they'll stop immediately. It's great!! 😁

Considers them to be his bodyguard when he goes out to gamble in some… shadier places. Most of the time not even the bouncers want to take on the MC, ain't nobody getting paid enough to lose that many teeth…

Leviathan

Okay, so. It's not very obvious anymore, but he USED to be on the front lines of the war against demons in the Celestial Realm. He was in charge of battle strategies, he led armies, and even now he still holds the highest rank of the royal navy!

So leave it to the kid of a war god to sniff all that out about him, huh…? They appeared to know all about his record the instant they saw him and they actually seemed to respect him for it!

For context, this mortal tells pretty much everybody to shove off but any time he’s around they call him “Admiral” or “sir” and actually pay attention to what he says! He can tell it drives Lucifer insane, but honestly? It’s a bit of an ego boost. 😌

It’s sort of cute when they come to him asking for tactical advice… They get just as into it as he does with his anime and any time he points out something that they haven't seen before they get so excited it's like they're a kid watching a magic trick. HUGE ego boost. 😏

Speaking of anime, it’s hit or miss whether or not they can watch any of it. Anything with good fight scenes (and let’s be honest, not that much talking) they’re on board for. But if the hero and the villain talk to each other for like an episode before throwing punches then the MC will just rant...

MC: “The enemy is distracted... Why aren’t they attacking yet??”

Levi: “Because the villain killed the hero’s best friend and they’re-”

MC: “They could avenge their friend right now if they ended things right here!”

Levi: “MC, we’ve been over this... That’s not how plot works.”

MC: “And now he got away!! See?? They should have killed him when they had the chance!”

Levi: “*sigh*... Let’s just play some CoD.”

Satan 

The last thing he remembered when the “human” hopped out of the portal was a sharp pain to the side of the temple and Asmo wailing as he fell unconscious…

Yeeeeah, not great. And unfortunately for the mortal the Avatar of Wrath tends to hold a grudge… 

For a comparatively brief moment in time, all of Satan’s considerable ire had shifted away from Lucifer and to their new housemate. They found their bed, clothes, pillows, food, and even their toothbrush cursed!

… But Ares kids must be built from some strong stuff, because half of what he employed didn’t even faze them! He even put an explosive spell on their backpack and not only did they tank the blast, it didn’t hurt them at all!! It was like they’re damn near immortal!

Annnnd they kind of are. Apparently the MC had taken a dip in the River Styx at some point before and became nigh invulnerable…

Was it maybe a little terrifying to know that they had kidnapped a nearly invincible demigod on the level of Achilles? Yes. Did that also mean that they must have had a weakness too? In theory....

Satan honestly devoted a depressing amount of time trying to uncover the “Achilles’ Heel” of his new sworn enemy… until…

The MC was walking with him and Asmo to RAD one morning when they passed by a group of lesser demons harassing a small puppy. Now Satan may be more of a cat man, but NO ONE fucks with animals while he’s around.

He was right about to go over and rip those demons a new one but the MC actually beat him to it! Apparently, the second that they realized what was happening, they launched themselves forward and started bashing the abusers' heads into a wall!

… Live by violence, forgive by violence because in that very moment Satan decided they weren’t so bad after all. He even joined in!

Oh, Asmo gave them both shit all day for the bloodstains on their uniforms and the scratches on their… everywhere, but it’s not like either of them cared. Righteous justice had been served and it was glorious!!

100% would team up with the MC in some kind of vigilante “punish-all-animal-abusers” gig. They have but to ask. 😌

Asmodeus

Oh they TERRIFIED Asmo when they first showed up! How else was he supposed to react?? They brought down his brothers like they were made of cardboard!!

Though he had to admit that the confident, battle-ready look they had about them was sexy as hell, he knew better than to go bear poking! 😣 He avoided them like plague until they finally asked him for a pact.

And then he discovered something… something very unexpected….

They're actually adorable!!!

Okay, like, not in appearance (they look like they could pile drive Cerberus for Pete’s sake!) but he discovered that they have NO CLUE how to handle physical affection. Like zero!!

The first time Asmo actually got the courage to try and hug them he expected them to toss him off, but instead they just stood there like a malfunctioning doll, all flustered and confused… It was so cute!!! 🥰

From that point on, Asmo would take every chance he could to wrap his arms around them or kiss their cheeks just to watch them try and fail to handle it. It's more fun than picking on Levi!!

It took two months for them to finally attempt any kind of reciprocation and even that was adorable! They pecked him on the forehead without thinking about it then nearly passed out from the realization. Apparently, they had never felt like kissing anyone before so he was quite honored!

The brothers know that if the MC's looking too mad to listen to Levi, they just need to call Asmo. A nigh invincible warrior becomes a LOT less scary after you’ve cuddled them into submission! 🤭

Beelzebub

Beel didn't like them one bit, at least not at the beginning. They had managed to get past him and actually attack Lucifer which was NOT a great first impression on their part...

He honestly saw them as a threat for a while, but unlike the rest of his brothers he didn’t avoid them. He just kept an eye on them.... constantly….

Look. Beel is a big guy. Stealth is not his strong suit… If he's tailing you, you're probably going to know about it because there's a six-foot something behemoth in orange following you around while pounding down bags of chips. He's not very subtle…

That being said, after following them around for a while the two finally got to talking and he realized that they didn’t want to hurt anybody or anything. They were just acting on instinct before.

After making the MC promise not to hurt any of his family, they got on much better terms. Hell, he actually got them into fangol!

Beel's sport of choice is pretty much just ultra-violent American football so the MC took a liking to it instantly! After enough begging, the coach let them try out and they got onto his team immediately.

He likes having them as a teammate! They're very good at the game, uh... even if they take it a little too seriously…

They once tried to convince his teammates to decorate the team bus with "the helmets of their fallen foes." They're REALLY into the sport… But hey, they haven't lost a game since they’ve joined. It’ll be fine!... Probably.

Belphegor

Hahaha… He’s in danger… 😥

It took one look at this mortal to make him rethink the whole, “Trick the Human” plan… Since when have humans looked like that?? They could crush his skull under their heel!!

It took all he had in him to play it cool when they first met because his internal monologue was nothing but screaming… THIS was the "human" he had to use to get him out of there?? How in the WORLD was he going to kill them?!

Admittedly, he had to think about it for a while. Belphie's a clever guy… and a demon. So who needs an honorable fight, anyway? If he can’t win one-on-one, then he’ll cheat!

He waited until the MC got the door open and didn't attempt a frontal assault… No laughter, no gloating. He just waited for them to turn their back, claws ready to dig out their heart, and then-!

MC: "Do you really want to try that?"

The MC must have had some kind of danger sense, because they didn't even have to turn around to know what Belphie was doing…

MC: "Look. I like Beel and you're his twin brother… So I'm willing to let this slide. But if you really want to try me…"

MC: *looks over their shoulder with the glare of a bona fide killer* "I won't hold back."

That was... very persuasive.

The MC brought Belphie down to the others peacefully with his tail between his legs and honestly Lucifer was more relieved that he wasn’t a bloodstain on the floor than he was mad… They could have killed him sooo easily… 

They did, indeed, forgive and forget about the whole “attempted murder” thing, though Belphie was never quite able to shake off how frightening they were in that moment… He had nightmares for a while.

Thankfully, Asmo clued him in that the MC would melt into a harmless puddle of fluff if they got even the slightest bit of physical affection... Oh, the sweet payback he could dish out... It’s cuddle time. 😏

[chewriting]

By popular demand (two out of nothing is still the majority) I managed to write a second part of my "Kit dying" snippet. Apparently I can't write these boys without dumping an exponential amount of trauma onto them. I promise I'm trying to write something more feel good.

If you're interested: Part One

Content Warning: death

Ty’s seen people die before. Arguably more than someone his age should.

He was sitting at his mother’s bedside when she took her final breaths; reaching for his father’s hand when Julian threw a knife into his skull. There have been Centurions who misstepped on missions only to be cut through by demons and hundreds of nameless Shaodwhunters he’s seen fall in the heat of battle. His twin sister, the other side of his coin, bled out on the dais of the Council Hall after only trying to help. 

Death is an inevitable fact of being a Shadowhunter. Many don’t make it to old age. Those who do are far too haunted by all the family and friends who fell so they could remain standing. As a people, they mourn and move on. It can happen to any one of them, at any time, and there’s no use dwelling. 

Ty’s seen enough people he loves die. He never expected to add Kit to the list. 

Swords meet in harsh crashes of metal and wood, arrows fly from their marks in well-aimed arcs over allies and enemies alike, and voices cry out wordlessly from both sides. All of it stays carefully below the layer of classical music pouring through Ty’s headphones. Fighting is in his blood–the block preventing a blow locked on his Achilles’ coming as easy as breathing–but it’s keeping track of his family that leaves Ty reeling. 

He entered the fray with Dru at his side with a vow to stay in each other’s eye line as much as possible. Though it held like smoke as soon as she saw Jaime pinned between two fae and she lept to his aide, chained kama sliding from her grip expertly. An attack on his end diverted his attention and when he got a chance to look back where she once was, Dru was no longer there. 

Emma and Julian are likely somewhere at the battle’s heart, back-to-back fighting like they used to. Because even though they’re no longer bound by a ritual, it’s difficult to unlearn several years of practice. Mark is hopefully still on the outer edges with the other archers, taking out threats before other preoccupied allies even notice the danger. 

Livvy drifts back into his field of vision, sliding through fatal swings not even aimed at her. Even though the years since her partial resurrection had weighed Ty’s heart down with guilt, he’s happy that she can’t get hurt here. 

“I checked on everyone. Still alive and no grave injuries.” Her voice rings like a lonely bell over the cacophony, artificial and natural, and the barely soothing balm of his music. Ty knows he’d be able to hear her over any sound. Whether it be their connection as necromancer and revived or a resilient thread tying them as twins, even deaf Ty would be able to make out Livvy’s voice. It hits his chest before his ears. 

He can only nod, unwilling to give her existence away even to the Seelie knight he fells. Her check-ins have been the only thing keeping him held together while fighting. And he knows that Livvy finds comfort in knowing her family is alive too. 

“Do you want me to try to find Anush?” She asks. Her feet barely graze the back of a werewolf whose corpse lays face down in the grass. Ty shrugs. It’s not that he doesn’t care about Anush, he does, deeply, it’s just that the anxiety about his well-being is trumped by several others. And he trusts Anush’s skills.“Kit?”

Ty can’t freeze, it’d be a death sentence, but he falters for a moment long enough that a stray spear snags his shirt, taking fabric and skin as it winds back up. It stings but he can ignore it. Though Ty hasn’t asked Livvy to find Kit, see how he’s faring, he knows she has. They were friends once and she openly disagreed with his and Ty’s three-year-long sharp silence that only recently dulled until it didn’t sting every time Ty even thought about bridging the gap. 

He can’t know how Kit’s doing because it’ll be too distracting. Because the second he hears bad news, he’ll rush to his aide at the expense of his own safety. Ty isn’t overtly protective, not like Julian is, not like Livvy was. But he has a lingering feeling that he’d do just about anything to stay alive.

This can’t be where Ty dies. Not with Livvy still tethered in the fragile state between life and death. Not with the fact that his death would leave her adrift, unable to find peace. 

So Ty shakes his head firmly, focusing on sharp blades nearing dangerously close to his nose and preventing the death of others where he can. 

In the end, Ty doesn’t need Livvy to update him on Kit’s status. He sees it for himself. 

His head of blonde hair sticks out sharply in the sea of muted tones and dark red. There’s only one other like it, several paces away cutting down soldiers with grace and ease. A particularly driven fae hacks and slashes at Kit with rabid frenzy. Kit is able to block most of the blows but he keeps giving ground, not strong enough to push back at all. The sweat dotting along his brow and soaking into his roots says he’s been at it for a while. The red streaking his arms say he hasn’t been very successful in staying unharmed. 

Ty’s feet move without his command. He ducks thrusting spears and narrowly avoids being split in two by a longsword but his attention never wavers from Kit’s fight. A rushing accompanies his violins: the sound of his blood in his ears. Livvy rushes ahead, unable to do much aside from watching. 

When Ty’s only a handful of feet away, his hand readying to throw a dagger directly into the fae’s throat, a second blade slips from the fae’s sleeve and plunges into Kit’s stomach. 

It’s almost like Ty is the one getting stabbed. Sharp pains shoot outward from his abdomen, enough that he flinches. The fae grins, mouth stretched too far over his teeth and eyes bulging, as he digs it further in. They rip it out only to jam it right back into his chest. 

Ty’s heart–the one that hasn’t been whole since Livvy’s stopped beating–shreds behind his ribs. 

Kit doesn’t even stumble, too busy staring at the handle sticking straight up. His sword drops from his hand as he crumples to the ground. If Ty isn’t mistaken, he doesn’t look afraid. His eyes slide shut, peaceful and content. But Ty can’t be right. Kit can’t be happy he’s dying. 

The fae lets him drop, abandoning his knife to disappear between the gaps of those still up and fighting. Ty feels faint. Fighting through pain that threatens to black out his vision, he roughly pushes through to Kit’s body. 

Ty knows a chest wound is too severe to come back from; he’s seen it all before. But can’t let Kit die. He can’t do nothing. 

Livvy is hunched over Kit’s torso, hands poised over his arms but unable to touch as she whispers in his ear. Her voice echoes across the battlefield. 

“No, Kit. You can’t leave him. He needs you. I need you. Your family needs you. Stick around for just a bit longer. Just until he gets here. He’s coming Kit, I promise. I promise.”

Ty skids to Kit’s side, stele already clenched between his whitening fingers. Each iratze he applies fades into Kit’s skin. Like they were never there. Ty’s desperate attempts to make one stick lead to no results. He remembers Julian recounting how he cradled Livvy in his arms, blood still pooling even after her heart stilled. He knows what it all means.

Kit is already gone. Dead in the few seconds it took for Ty to cross several feet. 

He threads his fingers in Kit’s, steeling the memory of his calloused palms and still warm skin. 

Then, the chanting starts. Tossed around the sea of fighters, some overlapping and some cutting through the noise like trumpets, the fae call to each other. The heir is dead.

Then Livvy begins to weep. She folds over him, wailing into his still chest. 

There’s scuffle all around Ty; metal clashing, arrows whizzing, voices calling, and instruments harmonizing, but he can’t hear any of it anymore. He’s not sure why someone hasn’t plunged a sword through his back while he’s distracted. Maybe even the Seelie have a small portion of mercy to allow Ty to grieve. Maybe someone watched it all and is protecting them. A small part of him, dried and hardened by grief, wishes someone would just put him out of his misery. Save him from having to go through this again. 

Ty never got to tell Kit he forgave him. That he loved him with more fierceness than Ty believed could ever fit in his chest.

In his periphery, a hole is made in the wall of people. Jace heaves, a shortsword dripping blood into the grass, his hair a mess and eyes ablaze. His gaze locks onto Kit’s still, bloody form, and Ty’s never seen Jace’s face shutter the way it does. Despite all the trauma he went through before coming to New York and all the pain that followed until Sebastian's death, Ty never saw him falter. He’s the best fighter of his generation, the boy who survived heavenly fire, and walked demon realms twice, all while cracking jokes Ty still doesn't understand somedays. 

Emotions flash across Jace’s face. One’s Ty can recognize–pain, rage, grief–and others that he doesn’t have a name for. 

He looks directly at Ty when he speaks, gravel breaking up his single word. “Who?”

“It wasn’t some I recognized. But they had bright silver hair and a pale scar stretching from temple to chin,” Ty says, surprised he’s even able to reply at all. Not surprised with how much he remembers of the fae that killed the only man Ty’s ever loved. In another attempt to help, he points in the direction the soldier disappeared in. 

Jace breaks through the tight-knit of survival-fueled desperation, not another word uttered. 

Ty doesn’t believe in ‘an eye for an eye.’ Getting revenge just creates an endless loop of death that’s never satiated. But Ty can’t find it in himself to care.

Livvy still sobs into Kit’s shirt, tears streaking her cheeks but leaving no stain on the world around her. Ty gently gets her attention with a few utterances of her name.

“I’m getting him out of here. I need you to guide me.”

She nods, floating above heads to find the best route. Gathering Kit into his arms, Ty lifts him over his shoulder. He’s nothing but dead weight. Ty doesn’t make a habit of carrying anything heavier than the equipment pack he brings on investigative missions, but a certain resolve settles in his bones. Even if what made Kit Kit is no longer in his body, Ty won’t let it get trampled by unwatchful feet. 

“This way,” Livvy calls. Ty doesn’t even need to look up to follow. 

Blood soaks into the fabric of Ty’s uniform. Sweat drips down his neck and pools at the base of his back. His breaths come in uneven pants, exhaling in time with each stomp of his boot against the tread-packed earth. If he gets swiped by a sword or spear, the pain doesn’t register. Ty doesn’t look up–doesn’t stop moving–until he’s broken the outer layer and can lay Kit down on the untouched grass. 

He’s thankful Kit closed his eyes as he fell, Ty doesn’t know if he’d be able to do it with his own hand.

Everything else is a blur. Behind him, the battle rages on. Fighters best others, blood is shed and lives are lost but Ty doesn’t turn to watch. He keeps his eyes on Kit, dagger unsheathed in case Livvy notices someone coming towards them. They flank him, two sentinels wordlessly dedicated to a cause, until the sound of battle stumbles into silence. 

Ty’s not sure if they won or if the Seelie retreated after realizing their goal had been fulfilled. The shadow meant to fall over Faerie extinguished before it could even form. All he knows is the world eventually quiets, the fight for their lives and their cause postponed to another day. Everything that kept Ty’s back straight evaporates, leaving him with barely enough energy to catch himself before he crashed into Kit’s side.

Kit, his Watson, is dead and everything is worse now.  

Jace is the first one to find them: Ty curled like a parenthesis against Kit’s shoulder. He falls to his knees by Kit’s head, tears dripping down his cheeks silently. Dru comes next, who freezes at first sight before letting out a sob far too similar to Livvy’s. She doesn’t fall but her legs shake as her hands raise to cover her mouth. Jaime stands behind her, one hand gently resting on her shoulder. 

Everyone else trickles in after that. Silent grief palpable like a heavy fog. Emma and Julian joined at the hand, tears streaking Emma’s cheeks while Julian takes slow, even breaths. Clary, Simon, and Izzy give Jace space, only Alec comes up behind him to wrap his arm around his shoulders. No one else notices the other half of the bracket, enclosing Kit like something precious. His first two friends and the last two who saw him alive.

The funeral takes place at Cirenworth. Kit had no ties to Idris and as he wasn’t going to be added to the Silent City, the trip would be pointless. It isn’t the first time Ty’s worn all white since Livvy’s funeral, and it won’t be the last. Still, somehow, the bright fabric feels like it sears into his skin.

His pyre is smaller than Ty expected. A Silent Brother spoke of Kit’s soul being safe and at peace, now in a place without strife and pain. Tessa took the stand to say a few words about how much she treasured the short time they got together and Jem kept his speech brief, talking about his endless reserve of references and how his love went deep enough to touch the center of the Earth. 

None of it registered in Ty’s head. Even the songs he uses to calm down sound like nothing but static in his ears. Everyone else is silent, grief clogging their throats. Ty knows how it feels, like one crack in his resolve will cause his entire foundation to crumble. 

The pyre lights, hot and bright. Its heat caresses Ty’s face. His heart thumps painfully in his chest, all but begging to be released and join Kit to burn. Kit’s heron necklace stays cold between Ty’s fingers and palm. He was thankful Tessa and Jem allowed him to keep it. 

Eventually, Mina starts to cry. Luckily they don’t have to watch Kit’s body actually burn, but she saw them lay him on top of the wood stack and hasn’t seen him come back down. You can’t explain to a three-year-old that Kit was already long gone by the time they dressed him for his cremation. She wails, and her parents have to take her inside. 

After that, everyone else drifts back into Cirenworth too. Ty lingers, listening to the logs crackle and pop and soaking in the warmth. Though he knows this fire is no hotter than any other–likely less so due to its reduced size–Ty imagines it’s the last bits of Kit’s soul escaping into the world. He always had so much energy. All of it couldn’t have been abandoned when he died. 

Some people stay to talk mutedly amongst themselves in the living room, some leave to offer privacy. Ty slips upstairs, fingers running along the textured wallpaper until he finds the room that’s undoubtedly Kit’s. 

It’s bright. Brighter than his bedroom back in Los Angeles. His curtains are drawn to allow in the most natural light. Potted plants dot his windowsill, with some even spreading into the less lit corners. There are shirts and a pair of jeans laying just short of a laundry basket, another just beside it filled with clean and folded clothes. By his bedside is a considerable stack of comic books, depicting characters Ty doesn’t recognize in fonts that hurt to look at, and a lone novel balancing precariously at the edge. A Tale of Two Cities, with a bakery receipt as a bookmark on page 297. 

Stupidly, Ty falls backward onto Kit’s unmade blankets. It still smells like him. Boyish and warm, like cloves and sleeping in late. Ty’s chest aches. 

He toys with Kit’s pendant, rubbing the design between his forefinger and thumb. Memories paw the elastic Ty’s sealed his mind in, pleasant and torturous alike, but Ty doesn’t allow them in. Not yet. 

“Ty?” It’s Livvy. She’s been doing her best to be comforting, but Ty’s always needed more than just soothing words to calm him down. And she can’t do anything more than speak to him anymore. “How are you feeling?”

There isn’t a word for the contradiction that now resides in Ty’s chest. An endless, beating storm and perfect numbness at the same time. He didn’t have one before and hasn’t come up with one in the time between Livvy’s funeral and now. So he stays silent, following cracks in Kit’s ceiling with his eyes. 

She drifts down next to him, the only knowledge that she’s there is pressure on Ty’s skin from her locket that dips and raises in time with her proximity. They don’t speak, cataloging Kit’s room individually.

“He changed it some since I was last in here.”

“You came here?”

“Sometimes. I was here when Mina was born.” She stops, her voice cracking. “I liked seeing how he was doing. That he was alright, all the things considered.”

Ty can only nod. During his time at the Scholomance, Livvy used to pester him to just write a letter to Kit. Talk things out. At the time, even thinking about speaking to Kit again was enough to send his heart into a panic. The idea hurt like a thousand cuts, inescapable. Now, Ty wonders if Livvy was so adamant about it because she knew something he didn’t. She saw how Kit was handling their distance. 

He rubs harder into the pendant, wishing his fingers could run over it just right and bring Kit back. At the very least to let him know things Ty couldn’t find the courage or time to say. Things Kit deserved to know. 

Almost like Livvy could read his mind, she says: “Don’t even think about it.” Her voice is hard and biting. It feels like an accusation. 

“Think about what?” 

“Resurrecting him.”

“I wasn’t,” Ty rolls so the blanket wraps around his shoulders tightly, feeling like a child. 

“Good. Because Kit was so pissed at you for raising me. I can’t even imagine his fury if you brought him back.” She sighs. “Let him rest, Ty.”

He isn’t in the mood to be scolded about his past mistakes, especially the ones that he still faces everyone morning. Especially the ones he’ll never be able to properly apologize about. 

“I can’t anyways,” He admits. Because Ty did think about it. During that first night when everything still felt like it could have just been a nightmare, Ty did think about bringing him back. But the more he thought about it, the more it crumbled in his hands like loose yarn. Despite being a Centurion now, with more access to hidden information and dangerous ingredients, he also knows of the consequences. “I don’t have the means of getting some of the ingredients, and he wouldn’t be there.”

Livvy makes a choked noise Ty chooses to ignore. In Kit’s bedroom, cradled by his comforter that still clings to his smell and guarded by the walls where he hung up posters of Mundane singers and movies, Ty weeps.

[anyoneseenadam]

That fenrys fic was divine 😭🔥 can I request something for him having a nightmare for the first time since he found his mate and she comforts him and reassure him ?a tiny bit of angst maybe 💔🤧

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: blood, violence, nightmares, character death (kinda), mainly fluff with a lil bit of angst

a/n: I completely stole the first half of this from a short story I wrote about Achilles lmao, also THANK YOU FENRYS IS AN ICON AND DESERVES ALL THE LOVE WHICH I AM HAPPY TO GIVE, hope u enjoy <3

(I did not proof read this because I am tired :))

——————————————————————————

Fenrys hands shook as they refrained from touching her, from pulling her in and wrapping himself around her, drowning in her hair, her skin, her clothes, her laugh, eyes, smile. She turned with a smirk and a cheeky eyebrow raise, beckoning him in. He lunged, grabbing her, ready to make true on his wish, staring in wonder as her solid form turned to mist in his hands as she moved further away. Her laugh drawing him in. And of course, he followed like the lost puppy he was, begging, and whining to return to comfort, home, safety. She was his home, and he would follow her to the ends of the world if it meant she stayed that way.

 She had moved again, this time into a series of winding corridors, the maze he called his heart, a maze she owned. He chased after her, but she was quick, twisting and turning through corridors and secret doors, the map laid bare for her to see as he stumbled blinding, led only be the light she left in her path and her infectious laughter. Finally, she reached a dead end, casually bracing herself against the cold walls, releasing an exhale of laughter through her nose. He slowed his pace to a walk as she smiled up at him through curling lashes, nothing but the faint smudge of rouge high on her cheeks concealing her natural face to him, which he proceeded to wipe with his thumb when he reached her, his build towering over hers.

 “Finished running, are you?” he mused quietly,

 “I knew you wouldn’t let me get too far,” she whispered back, lips tracing his jaw.

 “That’s because you hold my leash,” he allowed himself to concede, “always have, always will my darling.”

 She let out a sigh of agreement, before leaning to his ear, their bodies pressed so tightly together he could feel her heart beating in his own chest, as if they had swapped hearts giving the other all they were, all they could be.

 “There is no me without you.” She uttered the vows they had made that beautiful day, where she dressed as the angel he was sure she was. He leaned down to express his love, but she did not allow him to rest in her arms for long, pulling away with a giggle.

 “What?” he asked with a smirk, but she was already gone giggling behind him, the chase beginning again.

 But as he turned, blessed by the smile she gave him, all pearly white teeth and rosy cheeks, the warning shout he cried was not quick enough as a wash of deep red replaced the once pure and untainted white of her smile. Her mouth filling with blood, the sword protruding from her stomach like a handle. She stared at him questions not asked soon enough as she splutters up blood onto her previously fresh clothes, eyes full of fear, splitting his heart in half, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

 He tried to run to her, hands grasping at air as he fell through the cracks in his own heart, a scream tearing from his throat as she was pulled from him, skin draining of colour and eyes turning black, full of hatred and contempt as she stared him down.

 His own scream woke him up, sweat and tears blending on his face like paint on a pallet, as he gripped her pillow and sobbed on their bed. He herded himself into the far corner of the bed, afraid when he realised she was not lying next to him, comforting words, and gentle hands ready to lull him back to sleep. Fear and sadness battled in his heart, the heart he had given her during the war, the heart she had held safely as she cut her way through armies to reach him again. The heart she had put back together with soft kisses and words of undying love. The heart she had tied to her own the day they wed and had kept pressed safely in her chest since.

 He looked now, tears blurring the image he was presented with, bookshelves filled with stories you promised you would read eventually, tubes of lipstick on the floor next to the frame of their mirror, tea left to go cold in mugs dotted around the room, sketches left to be forgotten on desks and ribbons tied haphazardly around bed posts.

 He saw all these signs of you, the clues you left him as he navigated your shared life. His eyes darted around the room, breath picking up when he couldn’t see you, pressing a hand to your side of the bed and finding it warm, his breathing only slowing a little.

 He stood, pulling on a pair of boxers, and grabbing two daggers he kept next to the bed as his mind filled with the worst possible scenarios. He slowly padded out the room, moving silently through the house and thinking of a million different ways to torture whoever had dared to touch you. The tears on his face had dried uncomfortably but it was the least of his worries as he stalked through his own home, fear clouding his judgement that argued you were probably safe.

 He heard movement in the kitchen and walked that way, footsteps light as he rounded to corner to a beautiful sight. His arms dropped as he took in the sight of you in nothing but his shirt, sipping from a glass of water, illuminated by the moons glow. You turned when he walked in, smiling at his but furrowing your eyebrows when you saw his facial expression and the knives in his hands.

 “Fenrys, what happened?” you asked, moving over to him as he threw his daggers down, arms encircling your waist as he breathed in your scent. “Fenrys please, you’re scaring me.”

 He pulled away from you and you reached up, stroking a hand down his face and looking up at him with nothing but concern in your eyes, eyes that were searching his for any clues of why he was acting this way.

“I though you were- I thought someone had,” he struggled to get the words out, pulling you even closer, one hand tangling itself in your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, kissing his sharp jaw.

 “Slow down love, tell me what happened,” your soothing voice calmed him, his breath coming easier as you moved a hand to his shoulder, your loving grip grounding him.

 “I had a dream, then I woke up and you weren’t hear and I- I thought someone had taken you,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears as he pictured your lifeless eyes and limp body.

 “Oh my love, I’m sorry,” you pulled away from him, clasping his large hand in your smaller one and pulling him to your shared bedroom, “But you know I’m not easy to kidnap, I make too much noise.”  You joked, holding his hand to your mouth, and kissing it lightly as you walked over to your bed.

 He sat down first, and you stood between his legs, his arms wrapping tightly around you again. “Don’t joke about that,” he muttered into your stomach, but he couldn’t resist the smile forming.

 You pushed his head back and climbed into his lap, arms resting on his shoulders. “I mean honestly, if I ever got taken hostage I’m pretty sure I’d annoy them into letting me go, I’d just start explaining my top three reasons why every Jane Austen novel contains gay subtext.”

 “Or you could explain to them the tier list you and Aelin made of all the men you know.” Fenrys laughed as your eyes lit up.

 “I forgot about that!” you exclaimed and Fenrys laughed, lying down, and pulling you with him as he tickled your sides, revelling in your squeals as you batted your hands at him.

 When you calmed down, breathing quickly you rolled off Fenrys as he nestled himself between your breasts, holding you close.

 “Please never leave me,” he whispered into your chest as he listened to the steady beat of your heart as it created a song just for him. The vulnerability in his voice broke you and you moved a hand to his head, stroking lightly.

“Never.” You spoke with such surety that Fenrys let out the exhale he had been holding in. “I am never going to leave you, I’m always going to be by your side.”

“I love you so much, so much when I thought you were gone, I felt sick. I can’t do this without you.” He whispered into your skin. “Sometimes I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and all this will have been a dream. And I’ll have to lie with Maeve again and kill for her and watch her hurt Conall and it will be so much worse, because I’ll remember this softness, I’ll remember you and maybe one day I’d find you and you wouldn’t recognise me, and for the rest of my life I’d think of you, of the woman I never got to love.”

“This is real.” You whispered, kissing his head, and ignoring the tears welling in your eyes, “I’m real, you’re real. We’re real Fenrys.”

He didn’t reply, just buried his face deeper into your chest, addicted to the feel of your heartbeat. The constant reminder that you were here, you were alive. After he lost his brother you noticed Fenrys had become clingier, you initially presumed it was just because he was in mourning and needed comfort but one night he had drunkenly confessed his biggest fear to you. The nightmares he would have where you left him, told him you hated him, and the worst of all, the nightmares in which he watched your life be cruelly ripped from you. He could live with you hating him and leaving him, knowing that somewhere in the world you were safe and breathing, but everyday he feared your death.

The mornings he would wake up and find you wincing, a hot water bottle pressed into your lower stomach, the thought of you in any form of pain ripping into him, making his heartbeat faster and his palms sweat. The powerful warrior brought to his knees for you, but you were always quick to reassure him with kisses and promises of staying in bed all day.

As he breathed in your scent now and listened to your heartbeat, happily surrounded by you and only you, he allowed himself to relax under you soft touch, his own heart slowing to beat with yours as the fear slowly melted from him.

He needn’t fear your death, as he knew that he would never let you die. No, instead he would always fall before you, sacrifice his own life, any life if it meant you survived. You were a Goddess sent to bless him and he would fall to worship before you, always.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Robin x Child of Aphrodite and Ares reader HC (Request)

;

(Jealous ex on the side too)

Gender Neutral

•Imma have to pick a bone with Z cause she just

•I read the fic series What Have We Done (totally recommend, I died reading it, here’s the writer- @cipheress-to-k-pop ) and it just really made me think (I’ll rant about it later)

•Anyways, you’re the child of Aphrodite and Ares

•Thankfully, you chose to take the kinder side that your mother offered

•You were trained and taken in by all of the Greek Gods

•Even your technical step father Hephaestus

•He really does try and be there for you and gives really great advice

•I love Hephaestus

•#HephaestusProtectionSquad

•Anyways so you come to the squad since Diana recommends it

•You’re really close to her because of Aphrodite and then Ares trained Diana

•Although they did have a good falling out, Ares still respects Diana after the entire reason really did work out in her favor for battle

•So you’re coming down with all of your training and powers

•To clarify you have the natural born powers of, enhanced strength, immortality, flight, speed, healing, charming, mind control (Aphrodite), transfiguration/ shapeshifting (Aphrodite), master strategy, able to conger weapons on command, and hypersensitivity to emotions and energies (Aphrodite)

•You’re a valuable asset to the team and Z knows that

•She also knows that a certain ex of hers has fallen head over heels for you

•She kind of knew that it was her fault since she always had the chance to ask out Robin but never did since she was playing hard to get and then when they finally were dating, he dumped her cause boy has his reasons

•Z was never really that nice to you because of this

•You were kind of annoyed at first but then you just realized that she’d come around and the only time that you really needed to seriously get along was in battle

•So, you and Robin start dating

•He’s always cracking mythology jokes around you and making comments and questions about it

•You guys are dorks together and he’s keen on showing you all of the earthly things that you missed out on while you were living with the gods and Amazons

•You’re just happy that you finally found someone just like your mother said that you would

•You make sure that his suit is enhanced by your step dad and also that your uncles and aunts are watching out for the team for you

•It’s really important to you that none of them are seriously hurt

•Z eventually becomes more and more open to you but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t still jealous

•Eventually though, she does get over it and you become better friends

•You don’t have to be best friends, but you do become better teammates

•It takes a few times in battle that you really prove yourself that she really, really even starts to like you a lot

•You’ve gotten targeted by villains that take powers away but to their surprise you just end up handing them the sorrow of Troy, the rage of Ares, Aphrodite’s love, the happiness of Achilles and Patroclus reunited in death, the feeling of loss at losing those you care about because of immortality, you give them the lust of Zeus, and the heartbreak of Hera

•Haha

•Suckers

•They end up just having to give up then and there cause the emotions are too much for them to handle

•All of these emotions run through your blood because you’ve seen and experienced those things that have happened and you’ve felt the energy of the gods and goddesses surrounding you because of your powers from your mother

•Then Dick realizes this and he pulls you in to talk about it

•You haven’t ranted and cried like this in so long

•Z hears it and then she realized that you could feel her dislike towards you and that you must have known that she felt that way

•She gives you an awkward apology and you’re both better now

•Still she did give you some shit in the start

[johaerys-writes]

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Summary:

Patroclus is a sailor, and Achilles a merman that saves his life when his ship is caught in a storm. The two end up on a deserted island, and the friendship that develops between them will change both of their lives for good.

Chapter 3: The Nymph Who Became Star, the penultimate chapter of my Merman AU Fall Into Your Tide is up! Art is by the wonderful @katartstrophe​ :)

Read on Ao3! Or read from the beginning

Once upon a time, deep in the Laconian mountains, there lived a nymph. The forest was her home; she walked the woods and swam in the streams, protected the animals that lived there and helped the trees and plants grow strong.

One day, she met a young man from a nearby village. He was a healer’s apprentice, and had ventured deep into the forest in search of medicinal plants. Touched by his gentle manners and dedication to his craft, the nymph decided to help him and share her knowledge with him. The man returned the next day, and the day after that, bringing her gifts of flowers and honeyed sweets. His visits became a regular occurrence; they would spend hours together, talking and gathering herbs, exploring the forest. It wasn’t long before the two fell in love.

Months passed in peaceful bliss. However, when the next summer came, a terrible war broke out with a neighbouring state, and the man was called away from his village and sent to battle.

Endless days rolled by without him. The nymph waited and waited, fearing the worst, for she knew well how fickle and short the lives of humans were, winked out in a fateful instant like the flame of a candle. Finally, after several months, the war came to an end. The men who had gone to battle returned— or what was left of them.

The young man did not come to her. Overcome by worry, the nymph decided to approach the village in hopes of seeing him, even though she had always kept her distance from humans and their settlements. When she finally found his house amidst the multitudes of others, she hid in the trees of the garden and peeked inside.

She was overjoyed to see that her love was still alive, but her relief was short-lived. He had been grievously wounded, and his life was hanging by a thread. The healers of the village had done what they could, and all that was left was prayer. Incense burned around him night and day, while he lay on the bed, pale and unmoving.

The nymph's heart ached with longing and grief, such that she had never known in her long life. Tearful and distraught, she returned to her forest, determined to find some way to help him.

She searched for the other nymphs, much older and more experienced than her in the art of healing. None knew of a way to bring back someone that was only a breath away from crossing Hades’ rivers.

“Death cannot be healed,” they admonished her, “and it should not.”

The nymph listened to no one. She kept asking, kept searching. Only a dryad, knowledgeable and wise and older than the forest itself, her skin tough and leathery like an oak tree’s bark, knew of an answer. She told her of a herb, one that grew on Olympus’ highest peak. It was the rarest plant there was, unmatched in its potency. It could mend the deepest wounds, cure the most severe of illnesses.

"The gods guard their home well," the dryad warned her, "and do not tolerate trespassers. No one dares enter the Olympians’ realm without their consent. Anyone who does, must pay the price.” T he nymph thanked the dryad for her help. There was nothing else for her to do other than to brave the long and arduous journey to Mount Olympus.

She was quick and silent as she travelled, yet her movements did not go unnoticed. Zeus' eyes were on her long before she'd reached the foot of the mountain. For an oread, a mountain nymph, to leave the safety of her forest and travel such great distances, to cross rivers and plains and deep ravines and pass so close by so many human settlements was unheard of. So he watched, curious, and waited.

When the nymph reached the middle of the mountain, he disguised himself as a centaur, and presented himself to her. When asked where she was going, the nymph told him the truth:

"I have come to gather a herb, to heal the one I love. It grows on Olympus' highest peak."

Zeus was angered by her boldness, but her earnestness intrigued him more. He warned her, not unkindly,“If you continue on your quest, you will make the gods angry. They do not take kindly to such insults.”

The nymph thanked him for the warning, and continued on her way.

Zeus kept following her, taking on many disguises: a deer, a hunter, a satyr. Each time, he told the nymph the same thing, and she responded in the same way: she thanked him warmly, and continued.

When she finally reached the peak, and her satchel was filled with the precious herb, Zeus presented himself to her. He thundered and shone, blindingly bright, in all his menacing godly glory. I nstead of cowering before him, the nymph stood tall.

“I am aware that this is your land,” she told him, “and this plant belongs to you. Whatever price you command for it, I will gladly pay it.”

Zeus thought long and hard. The nymph’s insolence was unparalleled, but he found her bravery refreshing. In the end, he decided to let her go, allowing her to take with her not only the rare plant she had gathered, but also enough provisions for her journey home to Taygetus’ misty peaks.

The nymph returned to the young man’s village as swiftly as she could. In a matter of days, he had regained his full strength; he was lively and healthy again, as bright and fair as he had been before he had left for the war. They were both so glad, that their love shone like a midsummer sun.

It was then that Zeus reached down and plucked the nymph from the earth and her lover’s embrace. He placed her among the stars and tasked her with guarding the very plant she had stolen, for all time. Before he left, he set one of his fearsome eagles upon her, to make sure she would never shirk her duty.

The price for saving her lover’s life had finally been paid.

The Guardian star shines in the midst of the constellation of Aquila, Zeus’ eagle. The star shines the brightest during the summer months, when the plant is in full bloom.

~

Achilles let out a sigh after I had finished. The sky had darkened while I recounted the story, and the stars were now twinkling above us. We were lying on our backs on the sand, still warm from the sun that had been beating upon it all day.

“Olympians,” he muttered darkly, “and their cruelty.”

Many times before had Achilles expressed his dislike of the Olympians. The nereids were Titan-born, and the Titans had not been on good terms with the powerful and arrogant sons and daughters of Cronus for millennia. By the way Achilles’ brow furrowed whenever I told him tales of their many transgressions or fierce punishments of those who displeased them, I could tell that this animosity between the old and newer gods was far from forgotten.

“Why did not Zeus simply let her take the plant?” he asked. “He didn’t need it. He wouldn’t miss it. What could one mortal’s life have meant to him, in the grand scheme of things?”

“In truth," I said, "I do not think it was about the plant at all."

“What was it about, then?”

“Perhaps it was because the nymph attempted to hold on to something she was never meant to have," I told him earnestly. "She wasn’t meant to have a long and happy life with that man; he was dying. Nothing could change that other than this plant, and it was forbidden. She wished to avoid the pain of losing him, therefore she was punished."

Achilles frowned. "Anyone would wish to avoid that. That doesn’t sound like that serious of a crime to me.”

I took a breath, letting my gaze drift over the dark sky above. Achilles’ scent of ocean currents, of salt and sand filled my lungs, warming me. His hand was so close to mine, I could feel the faint heat emanating from his skin, yet I did not dare close the distance between us. Something held me back. It always did.

"Pain is only a natural consequence of living,” I said, and the words sounded dry to my ears, harsh. “Death, separation; those are the rules. Life is the exception. This is how it’s always been, for humans. If the souls in Hades’ halls were released, they could fill the earth ten times over— there are so many more souls down there than up here, an infinite supply of them. The only certainty for any mortal is that, one day, they will die. For gods, it’s different. Life is guaranteed; death is but an improbable outcome. The nymph wished to defy this rule, to give her lover something that wasn't hers to give, or his to keep. In so doing, she would have challenged the order of the world itself. It could not happen. The gods could not allow it.”  

Achilles turned his head to look at me, his large, feline eyes piercing me to the core. The light brush of his breath against my shoulder sent a roll of warmth cascading through me.

“Do you think she shouldn’t have done it, then?”

I stayed silent for a moment, pondering his question. "That is not for me to say," I said after a short while. "I'm not sure it was a matter of choice for her. It is said that, when you love someone, you act to keep them with you for as long as you can." I shook my head lightly. "I have never loved someone like that before, the way the nymph loved this young man. But I think… I think I can imagine what it must have been like, for her.”

The truth was, I had never let anyone too close to me. I did not know what it was like, to care about someone deeply enough to risk everything to keep them by my side, the same way that no one had ever fought to keep me by theirs. My father had given me up when I was far too young to know the difference, and since then I'd had to largely rely on myself for my survival. I always tended to keep my distance from most people I met, and never lingered in any one place or ship for too long. Xanthos was my closest friend; we had known each other for years, but even he would go away for months at a time to return to his family, while I stayed at sea. I had always been alone, and I always told myself I preferred it that way.

I had thought my life peaceful, comfortable, even. A life of hard work and few luxuries, yet it was mine. I was a free man, depending on no one. I had thought myself content. It wasn’t until I had come close to losing my life in that storm, until I had found myself on this island, until I had met Achilles, that I realised how drab and colourless my life had truly been.

Achilles was looking up at the night sky now, his profile illuminated by starlight. The stars shone bright, like a multitude of silver pins on a dark blue canopy, keeping it in place. He lifted his arm, pointing at a cluster of stars right above us. "Is this the nymph's star?"

"No," I told him, "it's this one." I took his hand and moved it slightly to the left, until it was pointing right at the Guardian star, the smallest of the bunch.

He gazed at the star for a long moment. Then, he asked, "Whatever happened to the young man? The one she fell in love with?"

"I don't know," I replied. "That was where the story ended. I never learned the young man’s fate."

He sighed. “I would have liked to know what happened to him,” he said. “What his life was like, after the nymph was taken.”

“You would?”

"Yes." Achilles tilted his head to look at me. “It is the greater grief, after all, isn't it,” he said softly, “to be left behind when another is gone?"

The nightbirds cooed above us, and the chill breeze stirred the leaves of the cypress trees that lined the coast. The world was peaceful, and in the silence that lingered, I thought I could hear his heart beating, a quiet and steady thump between us. His skin reflected the pale moonlight, and in its feeble glow he looked very nearly transparent. When his eyes focused on me like this, soft and dreamy, almost wistful, I knew that I wanted nothing more than to be where they could see me.

I swallowed, willing myself to meet his gold-flecked gaze. Gods, I could drown in those eyes. I would gladly let their shifting currents swallow me whole.  

"It is," I whispered.  

Read the rest on Ao3!

[ateezaligned]

How OnlyOneOf portrayed queer relationships and dynamics in libidO, w a hint of good ol’ yearning

(disclaimer: this strictly about the mv and in no way I’m implying these dynamics are translated to real life and their friendships if u suggest that ill kick you, don’t ship real ppl romantically pls)

The storyline of Instinct pt. 1 tell us this album is focused on self-discovery and how young people repress their “urges”, but the way all three subplots play with this concept is super fascinating!

The KB/Yoojung situation (which is my favorite subplot!!): From my point of view, Yoojung and KB show a relationship that is just blossoming. The song starts with tying up Yoojung’s hands, he is being contained, and his lyrics are literally “I’m attracted for no reason”, now I looked up other translations besides the original and it also has to do with being ‘pulled’, like Yoojung is being pulled into this relationship for ‘no reason’, he thinks he needs one to fall in love with another man. Rationalizing your feelings is a way to separate yourself from them. Therefore, Yoojung plays the more hesitant part, he overthinks, his super ego policing strongly what he feels.

On the other hand, KB is seen initiating most of the physical contact between them, and he does it in a way that makes it easy for Yoojung to pull back if he doesn’t want it. KB is also always at least an arm away, inside a comfortable space for Yoojung to reach for him if he wants to. In their first scene of close contact, Yoojung is the one laying his head on KB’s shoulder, and he keeps control of their closeness throughout the whole video, despite KB breaking it with the soft touches we see, such as fixing Yoojung’s hair or putting his hand on his shoulder in the beach scene. And all this gentle-ness contrasts so well, bc we also see KB’s character initiating contact with others! He pulls Junji for a hug when both of them are shirtless and he does it so nonchalantly! It’s obvious he is okay with /more/, but he respects Yoojung’s boundaries and never pushes.

The scooter scene is great, bc we can see Yoojung hugging and pressing their thighs and putting his hands in the air, he feels more carefree, he was able to get past his own inhibitions and it’s so great to see.

So Yoojung and KB's is like a first relationship: you are stepping on eggshells, you don’t know what you’re doing or looking for. A lot of queer people start dating into adulthood, and even with previous ‘straight’ dating experience, everything is so incredibly new! And it’s great but also anxiety inducing and frustrating.

Then, there’s Rie and Junji. A thing I found incredibly interesting is that in every scene of them (except two) they’re already in contact. In the car they’re holding hands, and when they’re hugging and eating lollipops, and back to back in the basketball court, we don’t know who started it, but it doesn’t matter because Junji and Rie are equals and stand on the same ground of mutual love, respect and experience, they’re having fun and smiling at one another, even when they’re playing basketball face to face, their eyes are on each other and its playful and great. Rie has one of the best lyrics in the song that is “I trust youand I accept it”. Junji and Rie don’t need to fight their instincts, really, because they know everything is reciprocated and their libido (not as in sexual drive but as in life energy) is matched in the other, they have trust over everything else, and this can also be shown in the only scene where Rie lays his head on Junji’s back, he’s supporting himself on his partner and Junji accepts it because relationships aren’t only fun but also healing and giving someone a place to rest. And Junji does his part and bandages Rie’s wounds, which @henlex pointed out as a Achilles and Patroclus reference, being these basically the top tier of gay love and companionship, when Patroclus died (represented by Rie), Achilles dies avenging him, asking for their ashes to be mixed so they could be forever one. So yeah, let’s yearn for something like this gays.

Finally, the trio. They’re the first ones to have their solo scenes, and you can see Love in the bathtub, he is naked and exposed, playing with some rosemary leaves (yeah I went to someone and asked them if they recognised the plant leave me alone). Rosemary used to be given to Aphrodite bc it was used as an aphrodisiac. It also represents fidelity. Yeah. So Love is playing with fidelity, basically. Many thoughts were thought.

Then, Nine and Mill are a continuous contrast throughout the mv. While Nine is inside and laying on the floor, cozy and reading, Mill stands outside in the garden looking at the window. I’ve said it before but I think it’s really important the way Mill’s character portrays one of the harsher parts of queerness that is that “other-ness”. You’re just an observant, and you want in and to be yourself with your friends and participate in those rituals, but something inside you doesn’t allow you to. In here, though, is not just ‘I want to identify with my straight friends’ but ‘I want to be free like these other gays, why can’t I do it?’.

Nine and Love’s relationship doesn’t really show a lot of romantic moments, in fact, I can’t really think about something between them that was, intimate and sensual? yes, but not romantic. Which is completely okay. Sex is not something bad, and gay sex is constantly demonized. Casual sex is okay and sex with friends and whatever, as long as everyone involved is a consenting adult, sex is okay. So to me, Love and Nine are friends, the arm around the neck seemed casual and natural, they’re comfortable with each other, and they’re also comfortable with mill, as shown in the creek scene. They didn’t mind the audience (yeah this sounds kinky ik), both nine and love are pushing the boundaries, unlike kb. But pushing isn’t always wrong, per se.

Nine starts with the lyrics “leave it, libido, we’re like roots (…) mixing together with no rules”, while Love sings “don’t suppress it just accept it”. Both nine and love are clear with their intentions and instincts, their subconscious is not their enemy in any way, since both of them accept the relationship they have.

Meanwhile, Mill battles with his libido, but it’s not like Yoojung who has a partner that actually loves him, if Mill takes the chance and jumps, he doesn’t know where he is going to land. In the whole video, not even once Mill touches someone else, even if he desperately wants to (Yongsoo did a great acting work I’m still so amazed!!). The yearning and pining over Love, who pulls him in and gazes at him, is such a good concept, because even if Love is giving him all the signals that there is (he is with another boy openly, allows close contact and shows himself in front of mill), Mill will still doubt himself and what he is doing. Hesitation and all, he takes a leap of faith in that one scene where he approaches Nine and Love, and keeps eye contact.

Now here is where the controversial crotch grabbing scene comes, and both Love and Nine sing. They say they’re walking over shallow water, so it’s not risky, they’re not gonna drown, and there’s no one around and they just “keep walking”. They do their thing with no care of what others may think. But also, Nine asks “what you need?” And “why can’t you see the light over there?” now, maybe after the whole no compromises he did catch feelings for Love, but Love, playing with fidelity as previously stated, answers “I’m gonna go where I feel like going”.

And then we have Mill’s rap. He talks about how this ‘experience’ can’t be compared to anything else but it’s an experiment. Now I know a thing or two about downplaying queer experiences, it isn’t unusual for gay ppl to look at things our younger selves did and think ‘how did I even passed as straight?’. Mill, even after saying it was just this experiment, says “you’re already putting a period, that doesn’t end things”. So, my guess, since after that we don’t see them directly interacting unlike the other couples, is that it all fell apart. Love, having the upper hand in the whole dynamic, didn’t have actual romantic feelings for any of the other boys, and he left them hanging.

While a bit heartbreaking, I think it’s important to point out that queer relationships are just like straight ones, and sometimes they end up in ruins, and it’s okay and its part of growing and discovering oneself!

So yeah, that’s my interpretation. This is like 1500 words. A whole essay. Hyperfixation is a bitch. I need a girlfriend.

[koushisatori]

I’m not telling, that I’m hurting

matsukawa x f!reader

genre: a slight bit of angst, and then a slight bit of fluff

warnings: hm, maybe the slightly suggestive last sentence <3

word count: 5.8k

note: pls accept my ugly baby, my brain fried itself writing it  (09.12. finally beta’ed my ugly baby hehe)

remember how I said Kuroo is a chill boyfriend and is quick to show that he dislikes something, openly seething and brooding?

Mattsun is even more laid-back in general, there's probably a picture of him next to the word in the dictionary

BUT he also hides it super well when he doesn’t particularly like something

Like, you're probably not realizing that he’s upset or angry until he decides to be very, very obvious about it

and even if he can't hide it (bc it's not only one thing bothering him but more, extremely rare) he won't talk about it on his own

Which is not only exhausting for you but also straining on your relationship at those times

There are two different kinds of pissed though

It isn’t something he wears openly but he gets jealous pretty fast

you’re beautiful, smart, funny and friendly

you’re everything he wants in his significant other and he’d do anything for you, but he hates how there are truly people out there thinking they could be better for you and ask you out 

ofc they want a piece of your attention, he understands, it doesn't mean he that he can't hate it

Bc..maybe (and he would never admit it) he was a bit more insecure than he let on, hiding it under a perfectly trained appearance, all lazy smile, and sarcastic comments

this is his usual state of being pissed, and it’s exclusively reserved for and directed at others

After you officially became an item, it got better - it’s not hard to see that you two were a package deal match made in heaven

back to the day, you started dating:

you two weren’t yet a couple yet but you both were pretty obvious w your wants

There was that unspoken push and pull battle between you regarding who would give in first and ask the other out officially

That moment, you were standing next to Matsukawa holding his hand  which is amazing come on, his large hands engulfing yours is a blessing

(‘’Mattsunnn, my fingers are so cold, will you warm them up?’’ – ‘’That’s a lame attempt of an excuse, Y/N,’’ he had said while taking your hand anyway ‘’you could have that every day, you know, all you have to do is ask me first’’ – ‘’In your dreams, Issei ~’’ ) 

it didn’t stop that one guy from his class, so arrogant and sure of himself, from coming up to you, completely ignoring Matsukawa, and asking you out?? 

Mattsun did not like that AT ALL

If glares could kill, you’d have to visit your boyfriend in jail every week <3

you just gaped at the other, it was hard to believe that this guy was serious but…he waited for an answer

moments of staring were followed with you both simultaneously - he, hiding his annoyance with sarcasm, you mildly concerned for the others health - letting out a ''What the hell''

Before you could tell the other guy that you're not the slightest interested, Mattsun answered for you

''It's sooo cute of you to ask me, but I think it would be unfair of me to agree and just leave Y/N hanging like that…additionally, I only have one hand holding hand available and…'' he sighed deeply, lifting your still firmly intertwined fingers, his brown eyes boring into the other guys ''I have to hold her hand for her for…probably forever, so you're…a bit late.'' 

Letting him pull you away, you giggle ''You know you kind of declared us as offical, a couple, for everyone to hear.'' - ''I absolutely did not do such thing, I'm now simply eternally attached to you and your hand, that's a difference.''

You won that round nonetheless bc him telling the other off was THE gossip for the next week

Your best friend gave you the glorious idea to attend his game at the end of the week in his volleyball shirt but tease him a bit until then about wearing his friend's one 

''You know I should totally ask Tooru if he would lend me his jersey, just to make that jealous bitch in my class shut up and stop pestering me simply for actually knowing him.'', ''Have you seen Iwaizumi's biceps? Please tell me that you wouldn't totally support our strong ace…and maybe open a cult just for his arms. Let me drop all of my life duties real quick, I'm meant to be a good housewife.''; ''Taka-chan said he'd pay for my lunch the whole week if I'd come to your game showcasing his number, you wouldn't mind right?'' 

The thing that had happened and you riling him up all week ended with the other kind of anger which is the silent treatment, completed with a very cold shoulder (which is also, in all honest, his specialty)

him punishing you with silence the whole Thursday as well as Friday morning

He avoids being alone with you, answers messages as short as possible, spends his lunch starring at his food, and not making eye contact

(he's still watching you, just bc he is currently annoyed with you after deviling him so much, doesn't mean he stops wanting to kiss your pretty face until your lips are swollen and your cheeks dusted in pink and red)

The worst is that he KNOWS that you're teasing him but he can't help it okay, you found his achilles heel  </3

Anyways, of course, when the opposing team arrives and they warm-up, you want your…not boyfriend but close enough boy friend to stop moping around (Makki begged you: ''please do something, he won't clown the others or joke around with me, all he does is sulking'')

Even without Takahiro coming up though, you would have gone to him before the game but it just makes it more adorable and hilarious bc he is a bit dumb there, I mean?? The only hand you're holding (and love doing whenever possible) does not belong to either Makki, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, or anyone else for that matter

It wasn't an easy task to discreetly rob him off of his other tricot but you managed

So, while they were doing their warm-up drills you - with Hanamakis help - sneaked into the gym

wearing HIS number on your back and front, together with a pair of jeans that he had complimented on dates before (they make your backside look amazing and you can't tell me that he does not appreciate a nice ass)

After you teased him with the others for so long, he immediately perked up when Hanamaki playfully wolf-whistled at you from across the gym, adding an ''You look amazing, Y/N-chan. Wanna get some food later?'' 

(Makki and you - overdramatically calling each other Taka-chan & Y/N-chan whenever possible to mock Oikawa a bit as well - ended up being best friends. bonus: you both LOVE to irritate Mattsun every now and then since he really only looses some of his composure in relation to you)

glaring at his best friend, Matsukawa strode over to you and dragged you right out of the gym again

then, a few minutes of silence

him checking you out kind of hungrily, longingly (trying not to be obvious about it, too)

before you finally relent and pull him down, standing on your tiptoes

To flick his forehead with all the strength in your fingers :)

‘’The fuck, Y/N.’’

''You are a fucking morron, Issei, and you hopefully know that.'' you sigh, pressing your lips against the point your fingers had hit against to sooth it

Avoiding your gaze - hiding his excited blush - he answered with a noncommitting grunt and a shrug

''you better win this game, and warm up my hands right after, you let them turn to popsicles while not doing your job for nearly two days only bc you were petty''

The smile that now curled his lips while nodding was genuine

not the sarcastic one or the teasing smirk he wore usually for everyone to see

a small, very pleased, and very happy smile, one he offered rarely and only to you

After the game - and having to watch other people ogle your nicely hugged curves even with you wearing his shirt and yelling his name for at least 2/3 of the time - he swept you off of your feet by openly and rather dramatically kissing you all Disney-like (earning some gagging noises from his friends) and asking you out in the same over-the-top kind of way

Don't worry though, he usually only gets frisky 1. when you two are alone

2. when you both decide to annoy the others (but that's more of a show and lots of unnecessary nicknames and sounds - honestly please have some decency children are watching) 

and 3. when he becomes insecure jealous

You know if it's the jealousy burning in him

he's attempting to not show it to you

Yet his grip on your waist is a smidge stronger, his slightly amused expression a bit too tight, too strained to be natural, and he's uncooperative…more than usual

This specific thing happened, just now

 ''Mattsun…'' you murmur, struggling to turn around in his vice-like grip. 

You tried to loosen his arms around your waist a few times while ranting about the mathematical problem and the upcoming test you had, hoping he would offer you his help. To no avail. He probably didn't really realize that he was squeezing you to death or tuning you out. This is why you resorted to wiggling around in his hold until you were finally facing your huffy boyfriend. One of your hands on his biceps and your other playing with the hair in his neck in hopes to calm him down a bit.

''Who spat in your breakfast this morning, you're usually not that grumpy,'' you continue softly, your tone between teasing and worry. Even though you and Hanamaki enjoy riling him up you both always make sure to stay inside a certain limit. Nothing you couldn't solve with an apology, sweet kisses, and genuine assurances that it was nothing more than a joke. In the end, he is the only person that causes your heart to beat faster. The one you like…love. You knew that you loved him for some time now, the desire to have a perfect moment to announce it is the only thing keeping you from saying it out loud.

The shrug you receive wouldn't do it though. Him tending to let it consume him until he snaps is not good. Not for him, and for the relationship of the both of you as well. ''Issei, come on,..'' you gently prod, ''…tell me. Stop living up to your name and talk to me,''

There were a lot of reactions you expected. Another huff maybe, his usual 'Nothing' or even the true reason for his behavior. What you did not expect though was his annoyed groan and him nearly growling at you. ''Y/N, fucking leave it. Stop sticking your nose into my business. Don't you get that I don't want to talk?!''

For a second your breath hitches. The annoyance…slight anger in his voice startling you. ''Jesus fucking Christ, fine,'' you curse - now irritated yourself. It caught him off-guard enough due to its rareness of you cussing out loud. At least enough to push against his chest and free yourself off of his hold, successfully stopping him from just hiding his face away in your neck. ''If that’s what you want, fine. I'm sorry for worrying about you, Matsukawa.'' you say provokingly before you let out a small sigh, ''I'll go to class, maybe Hajime is back from chasing the Captain and can actually help me with math…listens to me, to begin with. Not mope around to the point of ignoring me for some unknown reason.'' with that said you turn around on your heels and leave him standing.

You know he would eventually come around in the next few hours. You hope. Mattsun wasn't or rather isn't angry with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been as close to you as he had been but his inability to merely talk with you about what was and is bothering him proves to be one of the few reasons that are able to drive you up the wall.

Mathematics being mathematics, the problem wasn't just simply explained within those ten minutes before class started.

If things were normal, you wouldn't be as bothered as you are right now though. Issei would find a way to get it into your pretty little head. He knew how to explain and what to transcribe for you to get the idea behind all those letters and lines scrawled between the numbers.

The problem is that you usually did this in the calmness of your rooms on the weekend. As it seems though, did most people get the problem from the get to go and the teacher decided to write the topical test in your afternoon class today instead of next week, so she could begin with the new thematic on Monday.

Alas, you're fucked.

Not only would you get the worst grade in your whole mathematical carrier but you also couldn't ask your boyfriend, and listen to his deep gentle yet teasing voice explaining stupid equations to you with him being so infuriatingly upset over whatever.

 To your luck, Iwaizumi offers to be your knight in shining armor in extreme times of need. (He tried to convince you to just go to Mattsun because ''He's head over heels for you, don't tell me a stupid fight holds you both back from being insufferable together, Y/N'' - ''We can't be fighting, when he doesn't talk or listen to me.''.) Sacrificing a free hour and his precious lunchtime sitting on the school's rooftop with you, he explains the procedure over and over again. 

After what felt like a whole notebook full of wrong exercises and another one with their corrected versions, the structure of the problem does finally make sense to you. Now cheerfully humming, you look over older tasks you didn't get before when he decides to speak up.

''Y/N?'' Iwaizumi asks, his voice completely calm and…soothing?

''Hmm…'' you hum letting him know that you're listening while correcting another exercise.

''Mattsun will relax once we won that game, okay? Don't be so hard on him.'' His words caught you off-guard, which leads you to look up, question mark clear on your face. ''It's against Akumahebi? The ones that provoked and insulted him so underhandedly last time? Hit all his nerves spot on?'' he adds questioning.

Lips forming a big 'O'. You remember today's opponents vividly.

Seijoh first played against them at the end of your second year, a few weeks after you and Mattsun had started talking with different intentions than throwing terrible pick up lines at each other. Foremost for shit and giggles but actually starting to have hope that the other might mean it.

They stood at the other side of the net and began with their unsportsmanlike strategy by haunting him. ''Imagine thinking someone so mediocre could be rightfully on the field next to players like your ace, could compete against someone like Iwaizumi Hajime.'' or ''The only reason you're on the field is your height, the first years will take over your spot sooner than you think. You are replaceable after all.''. There was no obvious reason for them to pick out Issei but they did. Hissing different things under their breath. You guessed that it's because he always looked so unbothered. As if nothing could wilt his stupidly attractive lopsided smirk.

Afterward, the four of you had a hard time convincing him that those snakes knew shit. That he was on the team for his skills, his amazing blocking, and strategical thinking ability, not his height. That he would be a regular until he left the volleyball club and that he was respected by all of his kouhais.

''Shit,…them? Really?'' you jut our your lower lip. ''He didn't tell me...but I also didn't ask.'' you admit guiltily. ''Well, then I have to cheer extra loud for Issei, I think.'' A triumphant smile stretches across your face, gripping the collar of your uniform with one and pulling up the collar of the jersey underneath with the other. Enough to see the Seijoh colors to come to light. You had stolen it out of your boyfriend's bag two days ago after he went to the bathroom and had hidden it in your desk drawer until today. You nearly forgot to put it on after you accidentally slept in this morning, so you kind of just threw it over your head while hoping to not fall over trying to get into your tights. ''I'm ready to scream at the top of my lungs for my favorite player,…'' you say before you at least partly bashful add ''…no offense. You are my second favorite star player, Haji.''

At that, Iwaizumi simply laughs and playfully pushes against your shoulder. 

Later that evening you found yourself wearing one of Issei's ridiculously large pullovers and sweatpants, sitting wrapped up in blankets on your couch in the living room. Your chest hurting from swallowed and choked up sobs. Even though your parents weren't home when you arrived and wouldn't be for the next two days, enjoying a long-planned short vacation, you didn't allow yourself to cry. A gory horror movie on-screen meant to distract you from your thoughts ends up being nothing more than background noises while wallowing in self-pity.

At one point, Oikawa and Iwaizumi stood at your door - even though you hoped that it would be a certain boy you loved - worried glances boring into your skull from the first second on, and never ceasing.

You didn't even know if your team won or lost. It wasn't like you asked them either.

All you cared for is Issei. Issei, who seemingly decided that he would stop caring for you.

___________________________________

Iwaizumi-senpai and Y/N-senpai would make an adorable couple, don't you think?

You leaving him to make true on your words intensified the insecurities that had just started to brood underneath the surface a few days ago. He couldn't help it, but he definitely would not share those silly thoughts with you.

Issei knew they were wrong. But that didn't stop them from invading the darkest corners of his brain.

You have to agree that Y/N-san and Iwaizumi-san seem really close.

Overhearing the first years giggling about his girlfriend and one of his best friends being a cute couple amplified all of it. Also…he realized just now…since when do you call Iwaizumi by his name? When did he allow you to call him Hajime?

''Have you seen him smile like that with another girl? I, for my part, haven't seen that smile off the court where he can do the thing he loves the most.'' 

 ''Oh, stop, Y/N-senpai has a boyfriend! Don't you know? I feel uncomfortable speculating about something like that.''

 '' 'Course, I know! I just say that, if I were in a relationship with someone, I'd want my boyfriend to be a bit more…relationship-y about it, you know? Like, yeah, they hold hands and they hug. But all they do besides this is banter meaninglessly…more like friends, not like a couple should behave! Iwaizumi-san, though, even without being as close to her bodily, gives off more intense boyfriend vibes than this other player.''

''His name is Matsuka-'' 

‘'And, Y/N-senpai calls him Hajime, I think she even said Haji once, isn't that cute?!''

''Stop it, stupid! You shouldn't be so loud with your words, you might spread something accidentally. And just because she gives them nicknames doesn't imply anything. I'm also giving you nicknames! And, she looks happy with Matsu-''

‘'Yeah yeah, but you don't like me like that. Anyway, just think about it! Would you really say no to someone like Iwaizumi-san though…? What I'd give for him to at least look at me like that. If I were Y/N-sa-''

''You aren't, can we go now, don’t wanna be late for class because of you again.''

 Iwaizumi did seem to feel extra relaxed around you. And you seemed to like his presence as well. 

What if those first years had a point?

For the second time that day, he growled.

No, there was nothing to doubt or think about. It wasn't unusual of you to use their names. You literally started calling Hanamaki 'Taka-chan' within 10 minutes of knowing each other. Making friends was easy for you, and that you and Iwaizumi were in the same class with Oikawa probably just strengthened your bond with each other to endure the Captain's antics.

Issei nodded to himself, decidedly ignoring the little whisper of doubt in the back of his mind for now.

''I am not jealous.'' The black-haired student repeated this sentence in his mind over and over again. His best friend wouldn't do such a thing as 'stealing you away', nor would you leave him like that. People should shut their mouths. Mind their own problems. And because of him definitely not being insecure jealous, there was nothing he had to tell you.

Around lunchtime, Matsukawa decided to make good on his words and apologize to you. He would explain that he just felt on edge due to the game against this specific team, you would forgive him and then things would be back to normal…hopefully. The problem was, that he couldn't find you. Not in your classroom nor with your friends, who didn't have any idea regarding your whereabouts as well.

The dark-haired blocker was about to send you a message to ask you to meet him before your last lesson and his volleyball practice when he hears your beautiful laugh coming from the staircase right in front of him. Pressing himself to the wall he watches you coming down from the school roof with Iwaizumi, jumping into his arms with a blinding smile and running off to your class a second later.

''Would you really say no to someone like Iwaizumi?  ~ Imagine thinking you could compete against someone like your ace.''

With the greasy, suffocating feeling of jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach, he storms off in the other direction.

 Right before warming up for the game in the afternoon, he heard you chatting with Hanamaki in front of the locker room while he was changing. And while the door opened - Kyoutani walking in and Oikawa leaving to fullfil his captain duties conscientiously - he looked at his strawberry haired friend and your back. For the split second he could see you, he realized just how much having you around all day means to him. His eyes wandered. Over your softly shining hair. Slowly outlining your in Seijoh-colours clad shoulders, down your arms to your elbow where they are bent to cross in front of your chest to hold your jacket and uniform pullover. Then down your back and-

With an annoyed huff, he found himself throwing his locker door in its lock, bending down to pull up his knee pads more aggressively than necessary. Ignoring the curious looks and whispers from his teammates he simply grunted out an Ok, when Makki came in telling him that you would be waiting for him.

__________________________

Issei 💗👁️👅👁️: go, I'm not coming to see ya', don't need ur encourgmnt or you now You: Mattsun, what's wrong, honestly, you're scaring me Issei 💗👁️👅👁️: sure You: come on, I wanna support and show who's my favorite player Issei 💗👁️👅👁️: hilarious, stay, go home, idc

__________________________

"Hey, Y/N-chan, what I meant to ask you earlier…why were you wearing Iwa-chan's shirt." Oikawa carefully questions, his perfectly shaped eyebrow shooting up to emphasize his words.

"I diD wHAT NOW?" - "She did what?!"

Without wasting a second you jump up from under your blanket mountain and sprint up the stairs to your room to look through your hamper.

There it was, that goddamn tricot. A 4 looking right back at you instead of a 3 or 2. It brought every process of thought to an halt.

"But I- 2 days- what, I got this- I was in-" you stop again, slowly turning your head to Iwaizumi, pointing at him. "Since when were you missing this?"

The ace immediately straightens up under your intense gaze. "Three days? No two? Since our last practice, I guess. Kyoutani and Yahaba had some…problems and fought it out in the locker room. But I…wasn't missing it! I thought that it might be in the laundry by accident.'' he answers hesitantly.

You blink. A few times. Nod. And then a loud laugh starts to bubble out of you, interchanging itself with heavy sobs, forcing you to fold into yourself  and hide your face in your hands.

With a worried expression, Oikawa kneels down beside you. ''Y/N-chan…are you okay?''

"He's so fucking dumb, Tooru, why do I even love him? And I am, too!" You hiccup pitifully. "Makki and he switch numbers from time to time, in case you haven't realized. They say it's because it doesn't really matter in the end, it’s fun to confuse others and the worst that could happen is that they forget to wash it before the other wears it,'' you add, a little laugh escapes your lips before your voice breaks in favor of a hiccup again. ''I guess they were about to do that again but with Mad Dog on the loose, the chaos was enough to mix up all the shirts on the bench completely. And since I stole this one secretly out of Issei's bag when he went to the bathroom and quickly hid it to surprise him today, I accidentally grabbed the wrong one instead of his without realizing it."

You gasp for air, your stuffed nose making it difficult to breathe properly. "And then you have to play against this team, out of all possibilities, it's them! So, of course, he's already fed up, and then I'm wearing Hajimes number who he already kind of feels inferior to on the court, where he's the ace and vice-captain first and not his best friend, due to this stupid fucks picking on his insecurities. Fuck!"

For a second you bury your head in your hands again. "No, you know what, fuck this. I don't need him to bury that shit in himself again, or to have stupid thoughts, or leave me because of it'' you furiously hiccup, standing up. ''I can go over, too, and put that behind us.''

 The first time you actually took a second to breathe and evaluate the situation, you had already rung the bell at the Matsukawa family house. Thrice. For good measure. (And so he knew that there's no way out, that you wouldn't leave.) After waiting for solid 5 minutes - knowing that he'd usually reach the door in under a minute, one if he had napped before, you glare at the window above. A strawberry pink colored patch of hair peek out from underneath.

''Alright, if that's what you want'' you grumble. Going over to the trellis and climbing up on it onto the small canopy before finalizing your unauthorized entry by narrowing your furious eyes at two unbelieving faces. Well…he should never have dared you to try to enter his room like this for a joke in the first place when you first became friends. Now, he would definitely not escape you.

''Open. Now. I will break this dumb window, if that's the only way to get you to talk to me, Issei.''

In the end, minutes of starring later, Hanamaki relents and opens the window. ''Thanks,'' you say sweetly before you chop at the strawberry haired boy's side. ''Y/N-chan, I thought we had something special,'' he wheezes, holding his side.

''We have a talk later, Makki, this was only for not opening the door now'' you say, promptly throwing him out of your boyfriend's room. Your voice seemed to sound scary enough for him to leave rather freely. Or at least it made clear that there was no space for buts. That this was a talk between Mattsun and You. Alone with your boyfriend, you turn around to face Matsukawa. To glare at him.

''What do yo-'' - ''Shut up, Issei. You're going to listen and talk to me right now without filter.'' you hiss. While he tried to keep his cool demeanor, the black-haired boy swung his legs off of the bed to sit properly and not slouch, wanting to listen to you. Wanting you to explain…probably.

''Issei, you morron, you deserve the hardest forehead flick in the history of forehead flicks! What were you thinking?! Why didn't you just tell me that it was them you had to play against today? I would have done everything for you to feel better. I would have been understanding of your mood because I know what they did, but no. You decide to be jealous instead? Of Hajime out of all people? Give me a statement and I will refute it within seconds, whatever you want. Come one, test me. And I dare you to shrug just once,...just once!, and I will - even though I lo-. I will freaking kick your dumb ass to the moon..''

A snort, unfairly attractive and so very Mattsun, leaves him. ''As if you could reach that hig-'' - ''Thin fucking ice, Matsukawa.'' 

With a sigh, he scratches the back of his neck. ''Why were you saying you want to 'support' your favorite player when you were wearing Iwa's shirt? I mean I can’t prescribe who you like, I guess, it’s your decision...but,...hah,...maybe don’t make it sound...I dont know.'' Issei asks straight away, watching the ground between you. 

''Because certain volleyball players I know like to change jersey numbers after practice. And because of Mad Dog-chan being on the hunt for Yahaba's head, a very specific already mentioned player took the wrong shirt with him, which ended with me accidentally stealing said wrong shirt.'' you vaguely answer, watching him tense up. ''Now it's my turn. Why are you so specifically bothered by it being Hajimes?''

 ''I…it's-'' looking up, he met your eyes already narrowing again. You expect him to say 'It's nothing'. No, it was important to say it now, even if it was embarrassing. ''I heard people talking,...saying that he'd be better for you than me. That…that you liking him that way is just a question of time. And while I was sure that that's not true…I asked myself…am I really what Y/N wants? Are you bothered by the way we are in public? Are we couple-y enough for you? I was on my way to apologize when I saw you both coming from the roof. You seemed so happy, so excited. I started to worry…that if he was to ask you out…would you truly choose me? Do I make you look and feel as happy as you seemed to be earlier with Iwa?''

 Him not meeting your eyes bothers you. How could he understand if he's not looking? You slowly walk over, giving him time to say stop or move away from you…but he doesn't. Standing between his legs you gently cup his cheeks and make him look up into your eyes. Make him see.

''Let's start somewhere…thank you for being open and honest with me. Okay, firstly, I was on the roof with him so he could explain math to me. I didn't want to sit in a classroom and let others hear how troubled I was by what seems to be one of the easiest mathematical equations in existence. And since I was occupying his lunch break, Haji at least wanted to have some quiet for eating if he sacrifices his time like that.'' you chuckle slightly before you meet his eyes again.

''Secondly,...Issei,'' you murmur now, caressing his cheeks gently. ''why would you believe things about our relationship coming from people that don't take part in it? Hm? They don't know us. They don't get to spend nap time with us, arcade and ramen dates, or movie nights. They don't see how you treat me away from curious eyes and ears. We aren't any less of a couple just because others have a different opinion on how couples should be to the public eye.'' you say, your undertone loving and warm. ''It's not Iwaizumi who I love. I have chosen you because you are the one. I love you.'' you emphasize the words. You never imagined the moment to be like that, but it feels right to come clean with the depth of your feelings now. His cheeks heating up in between your hands is an extra treat.

''I love you when you smile all lazily at me after sleeping. I love you when your voice drips with sarcasm and mischief. I love you when we argue over who has ultimately won the worst pick-up line contest - which is me by the way.'' you grin, shushing his protest by resting your thumb on his lips. ''I love you even when we fight. When you get jealous and grumpy. I love you even though you regularly tell Taka-chan how you'd sell me to Satan for a corn chip, just to mention this stupid bird meme. I love you to bits, you sweet but silly idiot, and I'd chose you all over again if I was to wake up in another parallel universe. Because I know, that you'll always treat me right. Because I'm sure that you feel this, too.''

While you were speaking, your boyfriend's arms slowly but steadily started to move past the last bit of resistance, wrapping them loosely around you and pulling you tighter with every said word.

''I mean it when I say that I get why you felt so uneasy today. However they do it, they manage to crawl under your skin. And that's human, Issei. To be overwhelmed, anxious, or insecure. But please, don't risk us falling apart by letting it eat away on you silently.'' You whisper.

''Y/N, I'm sorry…and I promise to try and talk when I feel bothered again. And-'' A surprised squeak leaves your lips at the sudden movement of your boyfriend. ‘’I love you, too.’’ Giggling, you look up to the dark-haired blocker, who is now towering over you, caging you in his arms. ''You look so irrestistable in my clothes, you should wear them more often.'' Issei continues, the smirk on his lips finally being close to the one he usually wore, eyeing you still wearing his way to big pants and sweatshirt. Then, Mattsun finally - Finally! - leans down to kiss you thoroughly, seemingly keen on making up for the wasted time. Nibbling on your lip, tasting and teasing you, eliciting sweet little sounds that sound oh so much like heaven. He had missed this the whole day.

Deciding to give the both of you a second to breathe, he leans back enough to study your now glowing expression. You lick your lips, watching a suddenly burning interest flaring up in his eyes due to the breathlessness in your voice. ''I have a proposition, you know.'' You begin, softly tracing his features with your pointer finger, smiling innocently. ''If you don't want people to doubt our closeness in this relationship…maybe you should show them just how good you make me feel when I have you all to myself, hm?'' You murmur with a seducing tone, watching him process your words, his slightly heated gaze not leaving yours.

Him diving right back in and whispering a litany of 'I love yous' was answer enough.

Bonus:

[writer-and-artist27]

Chaldean Master Vy (Character Profile)

Roughly inspired by @panyum​’s enthusiasm for my most recent artwork, it’s about time I divulge more on the Mastersona/main protagonist of Passing Days, Vy. Here we go.

Name: Vy

Age: 17-18 (beginning of Part 1), 19-20 (by Lostbelt 3)

Gender: Cis-female

Orientation: Asexual/Demisexual (questioning) and Demiromantic

Closest Servants: Mash Kyrielight (Level 80), Arturia Pendragon (Level 100), Achilles (Level 100), Marie Antoinette (Level 80), Robin Hood (Level 100), Archer EMIYA (Level 80), Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (Lancer - Level 70), Medea (Level 70), Chevalier D’eon (Level 80), Sieg (Level 80), Chiron (Level 80), Scathach-Skadi (Level 90), Sitonai (Level 90), Ereshkigal (Level 90), Ruler Martha (Level 80), Katsushika Hokusai (Level 90).

Notable Facts: 

In another place, Vy would have lost her life in a car crash and reincarnated into another world as a civilian pianist, but in FGO’s timeline, she was scouted by Chaldea before she could start her second quarter in college. Chaldea had noticed her family lineage having some kind of Mystic aspects through a blood test she had taken for a yearly checkup before donating blood to a local blood drive. It resulted in them reaching out to her for an “extracurricular volunteer opportunity” that no college student could refuse. Vy would accept, albeit with her parents encouraging her, not realizing it would later lead her to becoming the main Chaldean Master in the Grand Order. 

Vy went into Chaldea thinking she’d be a medical assistant from her resume stating her interest in science and medicine, only to find herself drafted into the Rayshift training that the FGO protagonist went through in canon as a result of her impressive stamina (thanks to biking miles around their home in America with her parents when growing up), tiring herself from all the shifting to the point of nearly dozing off in one of Chaldea’s hallways if not for Mash.

The “Mystic” part of Vy’s blood that drew Chaldea’s attention was something Vy’s parents nor grandparents were actually aware of, no thanks to how all grew up in poverty in Vietnam before coming to America and later, Japan, but it is actually from one of Vy’s ancestors coming in contact with a mage from the Mage’s Association. No one really knows what exactly happened between said ancestor and that mage, but it seems to explain Vy’s uncanny luck in getting some of the bigger names in the Throne of Heroes before confronting Goetia, including Arjuna, Minamoto no Raikou, and Achilles by the dawn of Camelot. Her luck has definitely made the Crypters scratch their heads, since Vy had used a nearly Fully Ascended Scathach-Skadi to take down Kadoc before having reached Scandinavia. 

Vy adores Mash a lot, both from how earnest Mash is and her eagerness to learn about everything of the outside world past Chaldea’s blizzards. Dr. Roman at one point commented that they looked like sisters, just once, and Vy latched onto Mash as a surrogate little sister since, being conscientious of Mash’s health whenever they Rayshift together. 

Since Vy’s family took her on a lot of cross-country road trips when growing up, including visiting national parks such as Yosemite and Zion to hike and sight-see, one of Vy’s goals when going into the Grand Order is making sure Mash gets to experience all nature has to offer one day like she did, wanting to introduce her to her parents when the fighting is all over. She has jokingly asked Dr. Roman and Da Vinci for adoption papers for her parents to sign for Mash.

When starting in Singularity F, Vy was initially scared of paving the way to Humanity’s salvation, but sucked it up once Mash saved her. At that moment, one of the thoughts running through her head was, “Mash is fighting so hard, so why can’t I?!” Since then, Vy has made quite the distinct image of herself when fighting with her Servants, being a no-nonsense leader who can and will sarcastically snark at anyone, including Kiara and BB of all people, when they are opposing her. To allies, she is both understanding and empathic, usually not asking any imposing questions and issuing orders only when emergencies call for it. 

Anyone who tries to “bed” her will spark a loud and angry reaction, since Vy is not interested in any sexual relations and instead is still loyal to her family and friends that were left to the dust by Goetia and later the Foreign God. Expect some cursing too. 

Vy’s romantic orientation is why Agartha is an untouched subject amongst all the Servants when bringing in new faces, because when Dahut in Drake’s body proposed rape to her outright during the Pseudo-Singularity, Vy’s reaction was basically, “I AM ACE, YOU JERK! SEX IS NOT FOR ME, CONSENT MATTERS, SO SHUT UP AND FIGHT ALREADY! IF NOT, I WILL KILL YOU WITH A RUSTY SPOON MYSELF, GODDAMMIT!” It’s another reason why Fergus and some of the other romantically inclined Servants such as Kiyohime and Elizabeth Bathory have kept their distance since, because Vy’s rage point back then was that unsettling. Robin Hood doesn’t bring up the subject of picking up girls in front of her anymore. D’Eon and Astolfo both have tried to keep Vy away from thinking about Dahut since.

The first Servants Vy ever summoned in the Grand Order was Lancer Diarmuid, Medea, and Chevalier d’Eon. The first 4-stars she ever summoned after them was Marie Antoinette and Archer EMIYA, so because of this and a lot of other things, all five Servants still find themselves in the occasional team because Vy grew that attached to them.

Her only Grailed Servants so far are Saber Arturia Pendragon, Rider Achilles, and Archer Robin Hood, both because they were there when fighting opponents such as the Lion King, Tiamat, and the Alter Egos in SERAPH, and how she loved all three of them for their legends even before coming to Chaldea. 

When Vy first got a Holy Grail, she tried to give it to Mash as thanks for Mash protecting her for so long, but because of Mash’s status as a designer baby and Demi-Servant, she wasn’t able to take it. Instead, Mash still finds herself at the front lines team Vy has for mixed enemy battles, since Vy can’t find it in her to leave Mash behind. 

Some of the Servants who have been with Vy longer find themselves getting a nickname for Vy to call out to just them, all because Vy sees them as part of her family and wants to be good to them. Robin Hood is a prominent example, where she calls him “big Robin” as a way to boost his confidence about being a Heroic Spirit, and in turn, he calls her “little sparrow.” Marie Antoinette is sometimes called “my Queen,” and some of the more younger Servants such as Illya and Miyu are called with the “-chan” honorific or “baby sis.” Mash never got a nickname simply because to Vy, “Mash is Mash, and I love your name.” There were many “awww”s. 

It’s because of how she affectionately considers a majority of her Servants family that a lot of them tone down their arguments and bad qualities in her presence, simply because she’s there. An example is how during Babylonia, Vy had answered at the Underworld’s gates, “Ereshkigal is more beautiful!” to Ishtar’s face, both because she had summoned Ereshkigal long before entering Babylonia and that she had known Eresh longer. Eresh, who hadn’t Rayshifted to the Singularity at the time, could be found later hiding her red face in her hands as Da Vinci laughed out loud. Dr. Roman meanwhile had looked like he had swallowed a lemon at the time because of how blatantly Vy had put down Ishtar, and Ishtar barely reacted. Vy’s only reasoning afterwards was, “I did not appreciate being made into a makeshift cushion in our first meeting, Ishtar, thank you very little.” 

There were a lot of times during Singularities where Vy, feeling bad for Dr. Roman being a butt-monkey of jokes, brought home a souvenir or two for the good doctor to take part in some of the better moments of the Grand Order. One such souvenir was a butter cake slice from Siduri in Babylonia, because he expressed wanting to eat it one night and she carefully preserved it with Mash to give it to him before confronting “Solomon” in the Temple of Time. It’s because of this that she dearly misses him, having found him as another surrogate father when he’d call her in for daily check-ups and talks over how Mash was doing.

When the Lostbelts happened, Vy started working a lot harder to raise her Servants and the morale of the rest of Chaldea’s staff, resulting in her gaining eyebags from losing sleep over too many Golden Apples and farming quests. Most of the Servants are all at Final Ascension and Max Level at the cost of this and QP, but it’s helped in making the Crypters lose some of their momentum. 

Hope this helps in giving some nice insight and lore!

[fridge-reviews]

Hades

Developer: Supergiant Games Publisher: Supergiant Games Rrp: £18.99 (Epic) or £19.49 (Steam) Released: 17th September 2020 (Official full release) Available on: Epic and Steam Played Using: An Xbox One Control Pad Approximate game length: 20 Hours (for main storyline)

No one said that family was easy. It's especially not easy when you're dealing a god within the Greek pantheon. Let's just say that their family history is... complicated, very very complicated. Every so often though the family works together (mostly) to overcome a problem. In this case its that Zagreus wants to leave the underworld and his father, Lord Hades himself, doesn't want him to and is very willing to put every obstacle he can muster. Thankfully you're family, high up on Olympus, are willing to give you a helping hand.

Originally released in early access in 2018 through the Epic games store, Hades is an Isometric roguelite in which you play as Prince Zagreus as he tries to escape the underworld. His father, Lord Hades, is none too pleased at this impertinence and will pit every soul he can muster against you, and when you consider that Hades rules over the entire underworld where every soul that has ever lived will end up, he has quite the roster to pick from. However all is not lost as Zagreus has got allies in the form of the Gods of Olympus who are willing to bestow boons upon our hero.

The main thing to remember about this game is that it isn't meant to be completed in a single run, in fact it's impossible to complete it in such a way. Sure, it is possible to get past the final boss on your first try (though it'd be incredibly difficult) but the actual story requires repeated completed runs, at least eight by my count. In the very likely event that you do die, Zagreus will return to the House of Hades. Something that is important to note is that unlike most roguelites there's no such thing as a wasted run as you'll always be progressing something in some way. I'd actually say that in this game death is your ally (in more ways than one), being defeated and sent back to the House of Hades is by no means a punishment as there things you can only do there that will make your future runs easier. You can also interact with the various NPCs that inhabit the House of Hades such as Achilles or Dusa these various NPCs are incredibly well written and each is fully voice acted and they all have their own storylines that you can interact with. You can also perform renovations to the house, most of the changes have no real effect on your various runs (though some definitely do) but can affect the various NPCs and trigger storylines. Of course one of my favourite reasons to return home is to hear the various admonishments from your father, which is always entertaining.

As you make your runs through the underworld you'll come across multiple currencies, Darkness, Gems, Obols, Cthonic Keys, Titan Blood and Diamonds. Thankfully none of these are tied to any kind of micro-transaction and each has its own quite specific purpose. The main thing to remember is that all the currencies carry over from run to run with exception of the Obols which are coins that you earn through killing enemies (and occasionally find as a room reward). These coins are used to purchase items from Charons shop, many of these purchasable items only apply for that run and for a set amount of chambers. However he also sometimes sells other currencies and the Gods boons.

During each run you will gain boons from the God's of Olympus, each time they do you're allowed to choose one of a choice of three. The boons and abilities you currently have affect what other boons you can acquire later on, in quite a few cases a pair of gods will combine their powers, often to devastating effect. As you accept these boons you'll find out more of Zagreus's plight and of the various Gods interest and involvement. You can foster this relationship by offering nectar to them (once per run) which will make them view you more favourably (and will also net you a reward). The Gods aren't the only ones you can give to, the various NPC's in the world also love the stuff and giving them it will improve their relationship with you. However, at a certain point the various Gods (and other NPC's) will no longer being willing to accept nectar and will instead want Ambrosia, which is only attained after having defeated a specific boss.

The way out of the underworld involves you making your way through chamber after chamber battling the inhabitants within. Before entering a chamber you can see a preview of what the reward is for successfully defeating it once all the enemies are dead. The underworld rearranges itself for each run, sure you'll always go through Tartarus, Asphodel, Elysium and the final area but the rooms will have changed with some not appearing at all. There are of course some set locations, such as boss rooms.

Once you've managed to escape that's when the game really starts to open up. You get to redo the runs but this time add in new conditions that make it more difficult through something called the 'Pact of Punishment'. Each new condition you add to your run adds 'Heat' that fills up a 'Heat Gauge' within the Pact of Punishment. It's advised that you gradually increase the heat rather than go in with everything turned to full, partially because the game will be insanely difficult but also because building the heat up gradually actually nets you rewards. The changes in the runs can be quite subtle such as increasing the prices of the items in Charons shop, where as others will allow the bosses to use 'extreme measures'.

Strictly speaking this game is without an ending, there is a story line that once complete causes the credits to roll and after that there's some post endgame content that lets you attain an epilogue and tidy up the loose ends if you so wish. But even once you've done all that you can keep doing runs.

If you're having trouble there's an option to activate 'God Mode'. This doesn't mean what it traditionally means. You aren't immortal or anything like that, however you are quite a bit harder to kill. This is an option that can be toggled on and off within the options menu with no consequence.

This game has so much depth to it, every time I thought I had the measure of it something new would pop up. This is still occurring even now when I'm at least a hundred hours in. There's even content to complete after the credits have rolled, because it turns out that initial quest was only the start. There are several systems and unlocks that I've not touched upon because all of that is post endgame and has even more impact upon the plots of various NPC's.

I'm not sure if it's obvious but I really like this game, in fact I absolutely adore it. However I recognise that it won't be everyone's cup of tea, I can see that having to do the same action (even with different weapons and abilities) over and over and over again will grate on some peoples nerves. But funnily enough the repetitive nature of this game is VERY Greek Mythos, with poor Zagreus forever seeking the surface only to return to the depths time after time after time.

If this appeals to you perhaps try;

Children of Morta Dead Cells

[pilot-boi]

The Sun’s Sorrow

When the Fates cut a string, that person’s life is meant to end right away. But there are special cases. And Pyrrha’s string is shorter than most, measured out to one length since the day of her birth. She knew this and she was more prepared than most for when her time would come, and for the time she had she would burn as bright as the sun.

Although not everyone would cope with her absence quite as well, one life’s flame is often enough to ignite another’s.

(Or: The PJO AU that literally nobody wanted or asked for)

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away

AO3 LINK

Battles raged up and down the streets of Manhattan.

As he ran, Jaune passed Yang and the remaining members of the Ares cabin taking on a squadron of Lastragonians. His blonde haired friend had long since abandoned the shield her adoptive sister had begged her to use and was clocking demons in the face with her celestial bronze knuckles. One giant took a hit to the jaw, to match the cut across Yang’s cheek, but that was all Jaune could see before he sprinted past.

He ducked on instinct at the yelled command of Qrow Branwen, and a volley of Hunters arrows streaked across the street brushing close enough to ruffle Jaune’s hair. The front line of a horde of hellhounds fell, and he had barely enough time to hear Qrow call for another volley before they too were passed by.

The sounds of more battles echoed through the sleeping streets, in a mockery of the sound of the normally bustling city. Nora called a strike of lightning down on some giant blue… giant down one alley. Sun and Neptune fought back to back down another against a whole troupe of enemy demigods.

A flurry of petals shot past him and materialized into Ren and Ruby, the girl already swinging her scythe to launch Ren up into the air to fight some kind of flying pig. Another street down Weiss barked orders while simultaneously taking down a monster with every expertly placed blow as she and the rest of the Athena cabin took on a phalanx of dracanae.

Jaune had no time for any of them, because just up ahead the person he was chasing was already out of sight.

They’d received word that Cinder- Kronos was advancing on Central Park. Flanked by a million bajillion monsters of course, but what did that matter? The King of the Titans was here, and they were in no way prepared.

Well most of them weren’t.

Red hair and a sash to match sprinted away from their little war council before any of them could stop her.

A chance to stop Kronos before the battle even began? A chance to fulfill the prophecy before the burden of the world fell to Ruby. To fulfill the destiny that the Fates had brought her back for. How could she not? This was what she was made to do.

Jaune had seen it written across her face as clear as day, and his dad was the god of daylight so he knew what he was talking about. He should have known what she was going to do, he should’ve stopped her-

He’d never be able to catch up in time. Even if Pyrrha wasn’t one of the fastest people at camp, Jaune was definitely one of the clumsiest.

Why couldn’t he have inherited his dad’s speed? Nope just blonde hair, a sunny disposition, and crushing abandonment issues. No special powers for Jauney, whoop-de-fucking-doo.

He turned a corner, and arrived on a scene of destruction straight out of an action movie. Or a nightmare. Or a nightmare that he had after watching too many action movies

It was a warzone. It looked like the rest of the Camp demigods had heard the news and also converged onto the park. On the right flank, Sun was leading an assault with the rest of their siblings. On the left, Blake raised her sword into the air and together she and the other satyrs and nature spirits charged in to face Adam and his faction.

Ruby was fighting scythe against sword with a flame bright Titan out on the surface of the lake. His friend was barely half the height of the Titan, and she was only holding her own against the laughing man by shadow stepping behind him every other second.

Pyrrha was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, neither was Kronos, because they were already getting thrashed as it was.

There was too much blood everywhere to pick out her hair or sash. Bronze gleamed on the chests of campers and enemies alike, blurring into one big shiny mess. He ran through the throng of fighting, squeezing past giants legs, helping where he could with his shield blocking a strike or two. But mostly he was screaming for Pyrrha over the sounds of the battle.

And then he found her. Crumpled at the base of a maple tree just outside of the line of battle, almost looking asleep like the rest of the mortals. Jaune was almost relieved until he slid to his knees by her side and she didn’t open her eyes immediately.

“Pyrrha! Thank the gods,” he yelled, pulling her up and holding her tight against him. She barely resisted, just chuckled softly. “I was so worried, don’t do that!” he reprimanded, pulling away and examining her closely

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” she promised, smiling weakly up at him. With eyes as bright as Greek fire, and an unmistakable blood trail dribbling from her mouth.

He examined her again, looking for anything that could be causing this. Because people didn’t just start bleeding for no reason. And then his eyes fell on the arrow sticking out of her ankle, just above her heel.

Her Achilles’ tendon.

Jaune’s blood ran cold, but he shook it off. It was fine, just a little scratch he could handle this much. “You’re hurt! Hold on-” he patted himself down for ambrosia, nectar, for anything that he could use to fix this. “Just give me a minute-”

“Hey-” Pyrrha tried to get his attention, but he ignored her.

“I can fix this, just hold on Pyrrha.”

“It’s okay-”

“No it’s not okay, you’re hurt, and I can’t do anything and-”

“Jaune.” His frantic rambling was cut short by one of Pyrrha’s hands closing around his own. “Look at me.”

He didn’t want to look at her, afraid that he’d start crying if he met her eyes. Dammit, his friends were dying behind them, and Jaune was crying over Pyrrha holding his hand. What the heck was wrong with him?

“Please?” And now he did meet her eyes, because she sounded fragile in a way that he couldn’t take right now on top of everything. And she was still holding his hands in hers, but Pyrrha’s hands were shaking. So he looked at her.

And what he found broke his heart and scared him even more than the warzone he’d just wade through to find her. Because Pyrrha was crying. Crying and smiling up at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

Which was wrong, because he wasn’t the prophecy child, Ruby was. Or Pyrrha was. Or they both were, or neither of them were. Anybody but stupid, bumbling, useless him.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, still smiling at him, and although her voice was soft, Jaune didn’t have to strain at all to hear it over the sounds of clashing bronze and fire behind him. It was like they were contained in their own little bubble, hidden away and unnoticed by the rest of the world.

“But it’s not okay.” And now his voice was shaking, and he swallowed back tears. “Pyrrha you’re-”

“Dying?” she replied, sounding vaguely amused by the whole situation, even as she coughed more blood out to land on her chestplate. “Yes I suppose I am.”

“No, no stop that,” he insisted, scooching closer to her and glaring through the tears that definitely weren’t blurring his vision. “You’re not dying, you’re just hurt, and if just hold on a little longer-”

“I… don’t think I can,” Pyrrha repulsed simply, grimacing a little bit. “I can feel it…” She trailed off, eyes defocusing for a moment, and Jaune’s blood froze at how long it took her to come back to the present. “This was how it was meant to be.”

“No,” he swallowed thickly. “You’re wrong, you’ve gotta be, Pyrrha please you’ve gotta be wrong.” Just this once, she had to be wrong. Pyrrha was never wrong, but please just this once.

“You’re more important to me than the world, you know that?” Another one of those sad smiles, and she leaned back heavily on the trunk of the tree. “More than the whole world, or the gods, or anything.”

Jaune couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For one because he’d seen enough movies to know that this was final words type talk, and Pyrrha was strictly forbidden from having any final words whatsoever. But mostly, because how could he be more important to Pyrrha than the world? He wasn’t anything special, which she knew better than anyone.

His heart felt like it was rolling around in a rock tumbler, being worn away by knives and other rocks and fire. He shook his head numbly, unable to articulate any further protestations.

“You made me believe, for just a moment, that the prophecy didn’t matter, that I could actually have a life.” She squeezed his hand, and her Greek fire eyes crinkled into a smile. “Jaune you gave me back my life.” And her voice cracked on the last word, and now they were both crying

He was dumbfounded. Whatever words he might have said died in the back of his throat. But luckily he was saved from having to think of more when Pyrrha reached one hand up and pulled him down into a kiss.

Jaune froze. His brain was going a million miles an hour, too fast for any coherent thoughts. His eyes were wide open in shock, and they stared at her for a moment before sliding closed.

It was a clumsy kiss, too fast and awkward to be anything else. Pyrrha tasted like blood, and tears, and they were both still crying, but they fit together like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. Made for each other.

He felt like he was burning up, and for a moment he wondered if this was how Pyrrha lived her life all the time. A flame burning brighter than any other, destined to live life more than anyone else. But to be snuffed out far too soon.

And then realized that it was because Pyrrha was burning alive with fever. Something flickered to life within him, and he could feel it. The arrow was poisoned. And the fire in Pyrrha’s veins had reached her heart.

Jaune’s eyes opened slowly, too dazed from what had just happened, and he gazed at her in wonder for a moment. Her eyes were still closed, and her grip was lax against his neck, but she leaned her forehead against his.

“I’m sorry.”

And then Pyrrha’s hands fell away. And the flame flickered out.

Instinctively Jaune reached out and grasped at that flame. Something tugged in his stomach and he fed every scrap of energy he could find into keeping the flame alight. Into reliting, into anything.

Tears were streaming down his face, and his hands were glowing but he couldn’t see them, and maybe he was yelling something but he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in his ears. The flame stayed out, and the darkness inside of Pyrrha filled her like a void.

She wasn’t warm anymore.

He leant down and pressed his ear to her chest, desperate for any kind of sign, and crumpled against her when she didn’t move and he found none. Even through the ringing, Jaune could tell that he was screaming now. Pyrrha’s head fell limply against his shoulder, her bangs covering her eyes. Eyes like Greek fire that would never shine again.

With the battle still raging behind him, Jaune laid Pyrrha gently against the tree. Now she looked like she could be sleeping, even though her chest didn’t move with breathing.

He was more angry than he’d ever been. Angry at the Titans for killing her. Angry at the gods for being terrible parents and dragging them into this stupid war. Angry at the Fates for convincing Pyrrha that she was only good as a weapon to point at the enemy. Angry at himself for letting her down in the worst way possible.

Jaune didn’t remember much after that. Just his veins burning like the sun, rage flooding his body like a fire, and a sorrow and mind-consuming determination that this wouldn’t happen to anyone else.

He waded into the battle, tears streaming down a face that was glowing bright enough to rival the Titan still battling Ruby on the lake. Jaune fought like a maniac, paying no heed to any injury he might take from strikes that he wasn’t meeting.

Every ally he brushed past was suddenly bursting with energy like they could fight an army. Fully replenished in a way none of them could be after fighting nonstop for days, weeks, and months straight.

Dammit, nobody else was going to die.

And then the world went dark.

Who knew how long later, Jaune woke up beside the lake and found Ren and Nora kneeling over him. Nora was rambling worriedly and excitedly before his eyes were even open. Ren helped him up and nodded in response to Jaune's thanks as he passed him a bottle of nectar.

Ruby appeared out of the side of a tree, shadow-stepping from somewhere else in the park. “Jaune! Thank the gods you’re awake,” she exclaimed, a grin splitting her exhausted face. “You’re not hurt are you?”

Jaune hesitated, and was shocked to find that he wasn’t. He’d waded into battle without bothering to use his shield, and somehow miraculously he was uninjured? Well uninjured past a weakness in his arms and a shaking in his legs. But that was it, so what in Hades was going on.

“It was Apollo,” Ren spoke up, after a moment’s silence. When everyone looked confused, he explained. “I saw you come out of the woods, glowing like the sun.” He nodded at Jaune’s hair. “You’re still glowing, in fact.”

“I am?” Jaune glanced up, as if suddenly he’d for some reason be able to see the top of his own head. His eyes narrowed. “But what’s that got to do with my dad?”

“Your dad blessed you,” Nora clarified, rolling her eyes fondly at Ren. “Glowing hair, healing stuff, no injuries? What else could it be?”

“Healing?”

“Everyone you came in contact with during the battle was healed,” Ruby confirmed, nodding. “At least until some enemy demigod saw what was going on and clonked you on the back of the head.”

Nora shuddered slightly, and at Jaune’s questioning look said. “You dropped like a sack of potatoes. We all thought you’d died.” Ren nodded in agreement.

“Anyway,” Ruby continued, “I just got the report from Weiss, and we’ve got no serious injuries.” She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, a look of confusion darkening her silvery eyes. “But why now?”

Nora hesitated, shooting a glance towards the treeline, and some kind of understanding flickered across her face. “What happened in the woods, Jaune?”

His heart dropped out of his chest.

The world was moving in slow motion suddenly, and for a moment he was worried that Kronos was nearby. Jaune had heard about what effect the Lord of Time had on the environment, and if this wasn’t the same he’d eat his sword. Up was down and left was right and he felt like he was inside an airplane with how sick he felt.

“Jaune?!” Nora exclaimed. Jaune blinked his eyes open -when had they been closed?- and saw them all staring down at him in alarm. Darkness was blinking into his vision, but he found himself leaning against Ren, who suddenly had to hold him up as he’d pitched sideways towards the ground as all the strength left his body. “What’s wrong, what happened?!”

Jaune didn’t want to say what happened. Didn’t want to think about hair as red as the fire he could still feel pulsing through his veins like the rays of sun on a summer day. He didn’t want to think about Greek fire eyes that burned into his soul, and would never see anything ever again.

Averting his eyes, he swallowed thickly at the tears that blocked the words caught in his throat. Staring across the lake, he looked away and stared instead at the ground, finding that he couldn’t look at the trees whose fall leaves were the exact shade of Pyrrha’s hair.

He’d felt her die, he realized now. That flame had flickered out, and at the same time, in that moment of trying to fight against the Fates themselves, Jaune had unlocked something within him.

Jaune had reached out and grabbed at Pyrrha’s very life in an attempt to keep it here on the mortal plane, and his father had blessed him for that. Finally using the latent godly power that had been passed on to him by his father, Jaune had used Apollo’s own healing to stave off death with his bare hands. And he’d damn near succeeded.

He could still feel the heartbeats of everyone in the glade.

But one critical one was missing, and would remain missing.

“We need a shroud,” he said finally, tears barely letting the words out. His voice sounded hollow, like all the life had been stripped away leaving behind an empty shell. “A shroud for the rebirth of Achilles.”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: What poem would you want to be read at your funeral and why?

Surprisingly I don’t find this a morbid question at all. It is a question I haven’t given much thought to in a long time because when do we ever really question our mortality?

I suspect the younger we are the further we push it away. That is until a freak crisis of some sort hits us. I can think of a few occasions when perhaps I have thought about it momentarily. I have found myself in some freak situations where I thought I was going to die - like a mountaineering accident or when I had a parachute accident. But in those situations a poem to be read at your funeral is the last thing that you dwell on in your mind!

The only other conscious times I have thought about it was when I was going through Sandhurst as an army officer cadet. Towards the end of Week 8 or so the junior cadets have to visit Brookwood Military Cemetery to see the fallen - the visit is done by all cadets and it’s done not just as an act of remembrance but also a reminder that the fate of real lives could depend on the decisions you take as an officer. I can’t articulate the feelings that coarse through you as you read the youthful inscriptions of those who died in battle (past and present) and reflect it back upon your own sense of fragile mortality.

Surprisingly I didn’t think too much about poems or eulogies when I was out serving in Afghanistan. There simply wasn’t time to think too much. It’s hard to explain but there is simply too much going on both in and out of the heat of battle: the amount of work to be done between missions as well as the tiredness, lack of sleep, and exhaustion to manage whilst also doing anything - from playing silly pranks, playing sports, reading, writing, doing laundry etc - to take your mind far away from dark thoughts.

I think about my mortality more when I meet very old veterans on their last legs or when I attend solemn commemorative services.

I can think of many poems that I would love to be read at my funeral so it’s hard to decide. I especially like ‘Ithaka’ by Cavafy for instance. But I’ll go with Alfred Lord Tennyson’s ‘Ulysses’.

The last part of the poem especially resonates for me:

Come, my friends, 'T is not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

The full poem itself reveals Ulysses (Odysseus from Homer's Odyssey)  the ageing king who, having returned from the Trojan war, yearns to don his armour again and ride off in search of battle, glory, and adventure (leaving his poor wife Penelope behind). The poem ends with Ulysses triumphantly announcing his intention to sail off again on yet more adventures. After being away from home for ten years while fighting in the Trojan War, and then taking ten years to get back home to the island of Ithaca to his family, Ulysses feels ill at ease at home. The civilian’s life is not for him: he is made for battle and adventure and voyaging (even though, in the Odyssey, he manifestly hates travelling on the sea), and will never be content to be the stay-at-home king with a wife and son, living out the rest of his years on Ithaca and enjoying ‘the quiet life’.

Tennyson of course drew upon Homer's Odyssey but also drew upon Dante's Inferno, Canto XXVI, in which Dante is led by the Roman epic poet Virgil to meet Ulysses and hear his tale. In Homer, Odysseus is told by the blind prophet Tiresias that he will return home to Ithaca but will then make one more journey to a land far away from home. In Dante, this part of the story is fleshed out. Ulysses gathers his men together to prepare for the journey and exhorts them not to waste their time left on earth. He dies on this journey, which is why he is in Dante’s hell. Tennyson's character is somewhere in between these literary predecessors, as Ulysses knows he will set off on a last journey but has not done so yet. Critics also note the influence of Shakespeare, particularly his Troilus and Cressida, which also includes Ulysses.

Ulysses knows he is famous for his great deeds, but this is not what motivates him. Unlike Achilles, glory was never the goal of Ulysses, it was the spirit of adventure.

Indeed what I love about this poem is Ulysses’ inquisitive spirit is to be always looking forward. He has seen much and has seen a great variety of cultures, but this is all in the past. Experiences have made him who he is, but what matters is passing through the “arch” to the “untravell’d world” and constantly moving toward the ever-escaping horizon.

In addition to the arch, Ulysses uses another metaphor here, calling himself a sword that must “shine in use” rather than “rust unburnish’d.” Yet, at home he feels bored and useless, yearning to truly engage with what’s left of his life. He is impatient for new experiences, lamenting every hour and every day that he does not seek “something more.”

Ulysses’ quest for adventure and fulfilment, like the goal of Goethe's Faust, is defined by the pursuit of new and unique knowledge “beyond the utmost bound of human thought.” Adventurer isn’t just about experience it’s about knowledge and, one hopes, wisdom.

Tennyson wrote this poem just after the death of his friend, Arthur Henry Hallam in 1833. Tennyson found himself thrust into the role of Ulysses. Confronted by the death of his friend, Tennyson noticed a sudden urge to drive forwards in life and not settle for the commonplace. As stated in the poem, ‘death closes all,’ enlightening the poet to the need to make the most of his life before it escapes him.

The poem’s final line is the most famous. The need ‘to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield’ fits into the Victorian urge to escape the tedious nature of day-to-day life, to achieve a level of mythical fame reached by the classical heroes, to travel ‘beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars.’ Tennyson doesn’t want to conform, he wants to challenge himself, and he wants to break new ground before his inevitable death. Just like Ulysses, Tennyson wants to go out adventuring rather than settle for regular life.

But where most people have misunderstood the poem is in that final line. They tend to only focus on the last line at the expense of what comles before. So “‘To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield’ is meremy seen as a monumental pronouncement for unbridled success and arrogant pride disguised as optimism. But it’s one that is isolated from its context within the poem as a whole. Indeed in doing so it robs Tennyson’s poetry of its fragile nuance. People forget to think about the last line within the context of the two lines above, “ One equal temper of heroic hearts/Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will.”

Despite being stoic and leading a life of meaningful purpose (heroic even), life still leaves us room with doubt and equivocation. As Tennyson himself suggested, confidence and doubt are equal elements of his poem’s meaning: he said that it ‘was written under the sense of loss and that all had gone by, but that still life must be fought out to the end’.

The struggle between the sense of loss and the desire to fight life out to the end remains unresolved at the end of the poem. I think this titanic struggle remains true even if one has religious faith and a belief of resurrection of an after-life. As a believing Christian I see no tension in this other than the ones being pulled on the human heart and the divine soul.

In the end Ulysses' enduring challenge to himself, is a challenge to us, to push ahead with energy and strength of will no matter how old or weak our bodies are. To yield to age or weakness is to be less than fully human and yet paradoxically when our bodies give out and we fail it’s also very human. As honourable as it may be to live a peaceful life without risk, we miss the most exciting aspects of life if we do not venture out, at least a little bit, into the unknown. For me as a Christian, the unknown (or as Donald Rumsfeld would put it ‘a known unknown’) is of course the ‘undiscovered country’ beyond life, the eternal life in the presence of Christ. As such Tennyson’s poem - as I like to think about my life - is not one of past lament but one of future hope.

Thanks for your question.

[naussensei]

Hephaestion

From: King of Conquerors: The Rise of a King

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737967?view_full_work=true

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13203982/1/King-of-Conquerors-The-Rise-of-a-King

Chapter 12: Hephaestion

348 BC

The temple of Dionysus was the most lively and popular of Pella. Offerings abounding at the feet of the joyous god, brought by the numerous believers that came to thank him each day.

Everyday, except this one.

On the other side of the city, fallen soldiers were being mourned. The streets of Pella were dead quiet. Only a few merchants, servants, and a casual orphan roamed silently the alley by the temple.

The silence was suddenly disrupted by a little boy who came rushing down the street, followed by royal guards, holding onto the small bag he was carrying. The boy went into the temple to hide from the soldiers. He passed by the statue of the god and sat in the garden, finding a safe spot to admire the goods he had just looted.

“Finally!” he said to himself, opening the bag to admire the tasty looking bun he had stolen. But just before he could take a bite, his attention was drawn to somewhere else.

Another boy sat in front of the statue of Dionysus. Thoughtful, in silence.

Is he one of the orphans? The boy wondered.

He stared at his bread with guilt for a moment. Then put it back in the bag and walked towards the boy.

“Hello”, he said, but the boy did not seem to hear him. He walked a little closer, and as he did, he recognized his golden locks of hair from somewhere.

Isn’t that the kid who almost broke my nose the other day? He noticed, slightly surprised. I’ll teach him a lesson!

He walked towards him with determination.

“Hey!” He called again, standing in front of him.

The blonde did not reply.

“I said…Hello”

They boy bent over to take a better look at the blonde’s face. His eyes looked dull and his face absent-minded.

“Are you deaf or something?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Just go away…”, the blonde finally spoke, turning his back at him.

The boy was speechless for a moment, wondering what he had done wrong to deserve such impolite treatment. He resisted the urge to insult him, and figured it must have been something else that was troubling the young boy. He noticed his face was dirty and his clothes, although of high quality, were reduced to rags. He carried no belongings, expect for a thick, old book.

The boy stood there and observed the blonde in silence as he turned the pages of the book.

“Woah!” The boy pointed at the book, suddenly excited.

“What?” Asked the blonde, without looking away from his book.

“T-that is… Are you a fan of the Iliad too?”

The blonde looked up, his eyes recovering their color for a brief second.

“H-Have you read it?” The blonde asked, shy

“Have I read it?” Repeated the other one, scoffing. “I don’t know anyone in Macedon who has not!”

The blonde looked at him with disapproval.

“That’s only because you don’t know anybody who can’t read, you highborn jerk”

The boy gasped, offended.

“L-look who is talking! You know how to read too!” He pointed out.

“My father taught me”. He fixed his eyes on the book again. “He also taught me to interact with all kinds of people. Unlike other nobles… No human life is worth more than another. We are all mortal in the end, only the gods are above us all.”

“A wise man he must be”, he nodded, fascinated by his wise words.

“Was…”, corrected him the blonde.

The boy gulped, speechless.

“His body is being incinerated right now… among all the other soldiers”, he continued.

“I am sorry…”

“It doesn’t matter now”, he said, bitterly. His hands shaking on his book. “He decided to fight. It’s his fault…”

“Hey,” said the boy in a sweet voice, “it’s OK to be upset…he was your father after all”.

“I’m not sad!” The blonde’s voice suddenly raised. “I am angry because all my friends have been left alone, and I will be forced to live in the palace. Why do I get to live there while they starve in the streets? Why can’t the other orphans have a home too?!”

The boy looked at him, eyes wide opened. He sighed, feeling deeply sorry for him and all the other orphans.

He sat next to him and offered him a piece of bread.

The blonde snatched it out of his hands and shoved it into his mouth.

The boy gave him a warm smile.

“It’s alright”, he said, “You don’t have to feel guilty because you have a better fortune than the rest. That is not up to us but only to the gods. You are just another boy who has lost his father, no different than any other child out there. You are allowed to feel sad. You can-”

He turned to him. The blonde suddenly started sobbing.

The boy, surprised, handed him over his own share of bread he had left.

The blonde took it, chewing and shedding tears in silence at the same time, in some sort of catharsis. As he swallowed, he realized he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day, noticing also his dirty clothes and hands, feeling suddenly miserable.

When he finished eating, he suddenly broke into tears, screaming, covering his face with his hands in shame.

The other boy patted him on the back. He had never heard anyone cry like that, a pain so deep it seemed like it burst out all at a time.

They sat there like that for some time.

“I wonder if he has met the great heroes from the past…”. The boy said after a while, looking up at the clouds. “Do you think one day I will be able to join them?”

“Them?” Asked the blonde, wiping his last tears.

“Your father I mean… and Achilles, and all the great warriors up there”

The blonde looked up, taking a deep breath.

“We’ll only know if we get there”, he said. Then took a deep breath and got on his feet.

He offered the boy his hand.

“I’m Hephaestion”, he said.

The other one took his hand.

“Alexandros”, he said as he got up.

“Huh?!” Hephaestion looked at him, surprised, “Alexandros as in…  prince Alexandros?”

“Yes, why are you so surprised?” He asked, amused.

“I don’t know, I thought you were a warrior.” He stared at the boy’s slim body, disappointed.

“I am a warrior…” he said, annoyed.

“Wait…” Hephaestion examined him closely, noticing his ginger hair. “Aren’t you that kid I beat up the other day during training?”

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about”, he lied.

“Yeah you are right, it can’t be. That one was a warrior…” He said, slightly confused.

“I AM A WARRIOR!”

“You certainly don’t look like one”

“Appearances can deceive you! You cannot judge only with your eyes”, the prince stood tall, proud of his own words.

“Then how about I judge you with my fists?” Hephaestion said with a smirk.

Alexandros grinned at him, and Hephaestion knew his challenge was accepted.

They wrestled for a few minutes, both taking the advantage at different moments. They kept wrestling until they were both beaten by exhaustion. None of them able to win.

They lied on the floor, panting.

“You are not bad, for a nobleman”, said Alexandros

“And you are not so awful, for a prince”, joked Hephaestion

They both chuckled

“You’ll see, tomorrow I’ll beat you”, said the prince with confidence

“We’ll see…”

From the next day on, the two boys met at the temple everyday. Each day at the same time, for 3 weeks, before everything changed for them.

“Wake up prince, don’t let your guard down!” Said Hephaestion that day when he found Alexandros relaxing under the shade of a tree, jumping over him.

Alexandros, smaller yet more agile, easily turned him over, pinning him down to the ground.

“Not today,” he said, “I want to show you something”

He helped Hephaestion up and guided him into a small room.

“What are we doing?”

“Shh, this is my secret place” Alexandros said, walking out of the room and into a small corridor that lead to the garden.

“Secret place for what?” He asked as he followed him.

“Look”, Alexandros pointed at a mosaic mural on the wall. The silhouette of two great warriors crossing their swords shone in gold under a bright sun. By their side, other warriors fought in the middle of an epic battle scene revived in the mural.

“Woah! Are those-!?”

“Achilles and Hektor. And look, there is Paris too… and Patroclus”, he pointed at the hero standing next to Achilles.

“How did you find this place?”

“This is were I come read and eat whenever I steal something from the kitchen”

“You are a prince, why do you have to steal food?”

“My mom won’t let me have any food until I finish my training” He said, pouting

“Oh, so that’s why I barely ever saw you before in the training grounds…”

“So…” the prince changed the subject. “I wanted to let you know that you will be moving in with us tomorrow”

“W-what? You mean with your family?” he asked, his faced showed concern

“You don’t want to live with us in the palace?”

“No-no, it’s just… I was expecting to live with the servants, or… somewhere more fit for me, I don’t know…”

“Well, I’m sorry that we don’t meet your standards”, he said sarcastically.

“Don’t get me wrong. I am happy.”

Alexandros sighed.

“My father, king Philip, he knew your father. He told me he was a great warrior. Naturally, as his son, you are welcome in the palace”.

Hephaestion smiled, his eyes suddenly became glassy.

“Thank you”

“A-anyway…!” said Alexandros, hastily. He did not want to see him cry again. “Since tomorrow, we will also be training together in the palace everyday with general Attalus”

Alexandros paused and turned to him, seeking a reaction.

“Which means… we no longer have to come here to spar”

Hephaestion looked at him, puzzled.

“So…” he paused and coughed, “I, uh…  I just wanted to show you this. As a parting gift”

“Parting?”

“I mean, to say goodbye to you as my rival. Since we are on the same team now”, said the prince as he walked away, leaving Hephaestion confused. “I’ll see you around”

“Wait, Alexandros. What’s that supposed to mean?” He said as he followed him. “Alexandros!”

After that day Alexandros continued going to his secret place, as always. Book in hand, carrying a bag with his precious stolen buns, he sat in the garden by the mural and waited. Waited all morning, at the same time for the next couple of days, but Hephaestion never came as he expected.

“I knew it”, Alexandros said, tossing the bread far away. “He’s not my real friend!”

He crouched against the wall and hid his face into his knees.

Nobody would want to be friends with a prince…

Painful memories flashed through his mind. He recalled the time when he used to sneak out the palace to play with other children. Until the war changed everything.

“It is your fault that our fathers and brothers are dead!”

“It is your father’s war they are fighting!”

“We don’t want to see you anymore!”

“Go back to your palace, prince!”

A familiar feeling of loneliness hit him like a spear though his chest. He closed his eyes and cried to sleep.

“Alexandros”

A voice called him.

“Alexandros, wake up”

The prince opened his eyes, Hephaestion was kneeling in front of him.

“What are you doing here, you are missing training”

Alexandros yawned, stretching his arms and legs.

“Let’s go, your mom is angry, she is looking for you”

“I don’t care”, the prince said, getting up with trouble. His legs had gone numbed.

Hephaestion helped him up.

“Go away”, protested the prince.

Hephaestion grabbed him, regardless, and carried him over his shoulders.

“Hey put me down!” he said, helpless. “What I do or not is none of your business! Why do you care!?”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble. You are my friend”

Hephaestion felt how Alexandros suddenly stopped struggling, and a tear drop landed on his cheek.

“You dumb prince”, he said, putting him down.

Hephaestion wiped Alexandros’ tears. He held his hand and they walked together back into the palace.

-

The next day, Alexandros skipped training again. This time Olympias spoke directly to Hepheastion.

“Boy”, the queen called him over when he was training.

Hepheastion looked around, hesitant.

“Yes, you. Come, child”

Hephaestion slowly walked toward her, slightly embarrassed by all the eyes suddenly on him.

“I saw you walking with my son, the prince, into the place yesterday. Do you know where he hides?”

A drop of cold sweat ran down Hephaestion’s spine.

“No, your highness”, he lied.

The cunning woman saw through his lie.

“If you happen to see my son, could you pass him a message?”

The boy nodded hastily

“Tell him that if I find out he has been skipping his duties, or if he has taken food without my permission, there will be punishment”

“Yes, your highness”

The queen turned around.

“Oh, and also tell him I said that anyone who is found with him, or helping him escape from his duties, they will be punished with him”.

The boy gulped. He waited for the queen to leave and excused himself to go to the bathroom, then headed to the temple of Dionysus.

When he walked into the garden, he found Alexandros relaxing on the grass, a leg crossed over his knee, hands behind his head.

Hephaestion sighed.

“Again with this, Alexandros”

He pretended to be asleep.

“Hey, you can trick your mom but not me. I know you are awake”

He came closer and attempted to poke him with his lance.

Alexandros reacted on time, grabbing his lance and throwing him in the air. Hephaestion grabbed onto the lance and pushed it into the ground between Alexandros legs.

“That’s a good start!”, he said, grinning and getting up and ready to fight.

“What are you doing! Your mom in angry! Now she is going to yell at me too! You are getting us both into trouble!”

“But it’s no fun over there”, he said, pouting, “Nobody can actually handle a fight. No one…except maybe you”

“I’ll fight you in the palace, come on let’s go”. He said, pulling his arm.

“I’ll go only if you beat me”, he said, clinging onto an olive tree with his other arm.

“Fine!” He said, letting go of his arm and getting ready to fight.

“If I win, you will have to come here with me whenever I come, and do everything I say!”

“That will never happen!”

But it happened.

The temple became the boys’ place hangout. At first, Hephaestion came to take Alexandros back to the training grounds, scared of getting scold by Olympias and Attalus. But Alexandros always found a different adventure to go on every time, and Hephaestion couldn’t resist. Hephaestion managed to negotiate with the stubborn prince, agreeing he would go with him anywhere, but only after finishing their training. Every now and then, they would both sneak out to eat in secret, or read and share their passion for the Iliad.

The days went by and the boys lived their days without big worries, until Alexander’s sixteenth birthday came.

Hephaestion had been waiting for a long time in the garden. It was already dark when Alexandros came.

“What took you so long?” he asked when the prince walked in.

Alexander walked slowly toward him, looking confused and astonished.

“Everything alright?” asked Hephaestion, suddenly worried.

“Father just left for battle”, he said, sitting by his side. “It has begun”

The blonde stared at him in silence. He knew exactly what he meant.

“He named me king regent…”

“What? That’s-”

“We’ll go into battle soon…Hephaestion”

Hephaestion’s heartbeat rose, exited yet terrified.

Alexandros lied on the grass next to him in silence, gazing at the stars. Hephaestion lied by his side.

It was a bright, clear sky. Orion shone in all its might. Both boys dazzled by the lights.

“Hey, Hephaestion…?”

“Yeah?” Hephaestion turned to him.

“One day I will be King. A real king. And when I am king, I want to see the world”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I like you. And because I trust you”

Hephaestion blushed, speechless.

“Hephaestion, will you follow me into my greatest adventure?”

Hephaestion stretched his hand and held Alexandros’.

“I will follow you until the end of the world”

Alexander turned to him and smiled.

“I have only one condition” Added Hephaestion, suddenly sitting up. “One day, when our lives come to an end. But we will become heroes, together, and our names will become immortal.”

Alexander sat facing him, listening attentively.

“This means… we cannot die in this war with the Athenians. Your father will come back alive and unite this kingdom…and he will watch you as you become a greater king than he could ever be! A conqueror king, one like the world has never seen before!”

Hephaestion could swear he saw Zeus’s thunder sparkling in the prince’s eyes for a moment.

“I, Alexandros, prince of Macedonia, swear that you, Hephaestion, and l will become great heroes. And the people of Macedon… no, the people of the world will tell our legends and sing our songs for generations”

“Just like Achilles and Patroclus?”

“Exactly like them”

They both gazed up at the stars one more time.

“I would be Achilles, though” said Hephaestion, out of the blue.

“No, that would be me”, argued Alexandros

“Why? I’m stronger”

“I’m prince. I win”

“Fine…”, he agreed. “But…hey, wait a minute, nobody sings about Patroclus”

“Well then, we will make sure everyone sings about the great heroes Alexander and Hephaestion”

“Nice try. I’ll show you I would be a better Achilles by beating you”

“You can try” Alexander grinned.

They wrestled roughly, but none of them able to beat the other. Alexander chuckled as he watched Hephaestion break free from him every time, pinning the prince down to the grass.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy losing against me sometimes, Alexandros”, said Hephaestion, smirking as he held on to Alexandros’ wrists. The prince did not resist, not even one muscle of his body tried to move.

“Maybe I do…”

Alexandros stared at him, intense eyes, a shy yet hungry smile on his lips. His cheeks glowing slightly red.

Hephaestion was stunned by that view for a second. His eyes fixed on the prince’s lips. He let go off his wrists and drew the contour of his mouth with one finger. Alexandros gently grabbed Hephaestion’s face to bring him closer to his. Hephaestion closed his eyes and slightly opened his mouth, feeling the prince’s breath on his lips.

[frekydeki]

Cupid Can’t Fall in Love

Part 1

Summary: (AU) Eternal and true love is a business transaction for you. Soulmates are simply two file folders tied together with a golden bow. But when eight folders come across your desk, your job gets a little bit stickier with each passing day. Being a Cupid isn’t so easy as it sounds...

Pairing: (Jihyun x Reader) 

| Part 1 | Part 2: Upcoming 

It’d be beautiful. The golden grass, the falling sun, the gentle and warm wind, the serene silence… It would all be so beautiful if he wasn’t staring into your eyes so tearfully. You trace your eyes over his blue hair and follow the line of his jaw, then his neck, over his collar bone and to his heart. Your e/c eyes widen to the size of the moon; a glowing arrow burns frantically in his chest. You harshly draw in a breath and smack your hand over your own arrow, hammering in your heart.

         You can’t process the tear trailing down your cheek as you turn your eyes away and up to the scattered clouds in the sky. Why? How did this happen? It’s got to be a mistake…

         It’d all be so beautiful… If only you could fall in love.

         How… Did it come to this?

Working for Aphrodite isn’t the most exciting employment option. When you were first born, you took a little bit more to your father’s side, preferring to kick ass here and there. But after a run-in with a seething Achille’s, – you told Zeus to just kill the guy but he insisted you talk it out – you got your butt kicked so bad that even Ares himself worried over you. Your mom said your warrior days were over that day. Nobody defies the word of Aphrodite, after all, and that’s why you’re holed up in this stupid office. Battle armor feels much more natural than the pencil skirt and blouse you’re wearing, but this is what you have now; platform heels, scrunchies, paper cuts, and the sound of typing like chinese water torture to your ears. Lucky you, though! You’ve put in your two millennia to get a personal office, away from all the typing and scratching on parchment; its maybe one of your greatest achievements in the past two thousand years since Aphrodite and Ares put you on the bench.

         This tiny little office is your hell a little bit away from hell, you like to say. You still have mental break downs and panic attack under your desk, and you’ve forgotten what wood your desk is made out of; but at least you get some damn silence. Except for the obnoxious banging on your door that’s happening right now. Is it eight already? The dread of a thousand punished souls in the underworld escapes from your lips in a groan; you barely even filed the cases you finished yesterday. Nevertheless, you roll in your rock hard chair – Hera was kind enough to make you a small cushion, even if it looks like a grandma’s afgan turned cushion, you and your butt love it – to swing your door open at a dangerous speed.

         The young blonde before you smiles and points towards the soft close door.

         “Isn’t it great Ares installed those personally for you?” Her raspy voice sputters to you quickly. Her scrawny finger then points to the coffee mug in your hand, “Hey, is that coffee.”

         “Yeah, what el-“ Your hand becomes lighter as she snatches it from you and takes a long swig.

         “I haven’t slept in like three days,” She babbles to you as she puts the coffee back into your hand and turns to the cart littered with folders, “Finals are next week and I haven’t studied all semester.” You’ve grown used to the incessant mumbling that Angelia lets loose every morning while handing in your cases… She’s like this every week, even without finals. “Becoming a god sure isn’t easy work!” She loudly laughs before continuing on about offerings and the rules of appearing to humans.

         “You know, Angelia, if you didn’t spend all of your time programming social media sites for humans, you’d be able to get your work done.”

         “How else is a messenger god supposed to stay relevant? Dad already does all the messaging between gods, so there’s no work for a dumb college god like me.”

         “You’re in college… That’s your job right now.” Your lidded eyes meet hers as she blows a loose strand of curly hair from her face and drops two folders onto your lap.

         “Yeah but I’ll disappear if I loose followers.”

         “No. You won’t. You’re a god born of two gods, not a god born of need. There’s a clear difference. We survive whether or not humans worship us individually. Plus there’s other jobs for gods to do other than meddling and fucking around.”

         “Yeah but I wanna be a messenger god!” She whines as she drops four more folders onto your lap. “Only eight new assignments today. Lucky you.”

         “L… Lucky me?” You screech at her. “I already have two hundred and eighty- eight active cases!” She surrenders her hands and pursues her lips at you.

         “I don’t decide who gets what cases.”

         “Yeah but you could also maybe throw in a word to Aphrodite and be like, ‘Yeah, boss, don’t you think MC already has enough assignments right now?’ You know, maybe stick your neck out for a friend once in a while?” Angelia continues to stack cases on your lap, unphased by the explosive temper you let loose every morning, and you keep on crying up to her, “Are you listening to me Angelia? I’m drowning in stress right now! If I were a nymph I would’ve shriveled up and died three hundred years ago.” With your pouting expression and whiney voice, you can be compared to a kid whose mom put her favorite cereal back on the shelf.

         “But you’re not a nymph. Yay! You won’t shrivel up and die.”

         “But if I were a nymph I would have. Doesn’t that concern you? I could die!”

         “Gods don’t die.”

         “Yes we do!” You snap up to her grinning face, “And the leading cause is stress!” The over caffeinated girl isn’t moved by your whining, so you switch to a bargaining strategy quickly.

          “Okay, hear me out,” You begin with a lowered voice, “Maybe if you just slip these onto someone else’s desk, and then pretend that you didn’t notice when Aphrodite asks you “What the hell?” By then that Cupid would have already started the assignment so there’d be no point in bothering me to do it.” Angelia drops the last heavy file folder on your lap and shakes her head. You blink as the weight of your coffee is lifted from your hand again.

         “No can do, my friend.” She begins as she sips loudly from your coffee mug, before her face scrunches, “Too much creamer.” Angelia puts the mug back in your hand, all the while you watch her with eyes the size of the moon; is she serious right now? Of course you know there’s too much creamer in there; you just had a late morning so for all you care she can take her scrutiny and shove it. “Anyways, Aphrodite and Eros both said - very strictly, I might add - that these files are meant for your hands only. Anyways, I’m only part time, here. That all is way above my pay grade.”

         “Angelia,” You suck in a heavy breath through your nose to try and curb your frustrations with the shrugging girl before you say, ���You suck.” At that, she laughs heartily. She giggles her good-bye to you over the sound of her clicking heels as she moves to give the next guy his shackles for the day. “Hey!” She turns over her shoulder to acknowledge your head poking out of your office, “You tell Aphrodite that if I get any more cases this week I’m going to go ahead and fall in love, ya hear?”

“Yeah, right. Someone like you, fall in love?” She snorts, “Not even Eros would take that assignment.” You lift your lip, eyebrows pinching together, and shout back to her:

“Go bother someone else… I’m gonna be here all night because of you.” She waves and smiles pleasantly, which you return half-heartedly. The door shuts gently, and you groan back over to your desk.

         Eight files don’t sound like much to the human ear, but these files hold every single aspect of the subject’s life, so it looks like the holy bible. It’s not that you mind the read all that much – it’s like a nice little short story – but it’s the paperwork and scheming that you hate with every fiber of your explosive being. You look to the mirror hanging on your wall after glancing through one of the files – these were all a little bit bigger than the normal case – and decide to put your work order in for their vial’s early; it’s going to take a while to gather their life essence. You grab a drachma and turn it about in your hand as you scribble the eight names onto separate blue ribbons.

         “Ánoixe.” You cough, watching the solid mirrors surface begin rippling like water after a stone is thrown into it. “Eudorus.” The rippling increases before orange begins to reflect in the mirror; it slowly stops to reveal the freckled and smiling face of your good buddy. “How are you this fine morning?”

         “Don’t play coy with me, MC. I know you’re only here to give me more work.” Your lips snap shut before you laugh lightly.

         “I’m sorry. I usually wouldn’t bother you about it until tomorrow but… I just got eight new assignments and they’re really big files. I thought I’d give you a head start on getting their essence for me.”

         “Eight!” He cries at you, his freckled cheeks becoming red and eyes watering. “You’re already drowning in work already!” He purses his lips and puffs his cheeks as he mumbles under his breath, “Mom really has to stop giving you so much work. You’ll keel over soon because of lack of sleep.”

         “Can you do this for me? I’ll buy you dinner tonight?” He smiles at you.

         “I’d do it even if you didn’t offer food, but since you did you can’t take it back now. Give me the ribbons and I’ll give ‘em to you at dinner.” You push your hand through the mirror, flinching as the humid air of his workplace gathers to your hand.

         “How do you even breathe in there Eudorus? It’s so humid.”

         “You get used to it after a little.” He stops as he eyes you, his lips parted and brows slack in what you can only dreadfully identify as one thing; concern. “Are you getting enough sleep, MC?”

         “With all these cases on my desk, I can’t afford sleep.”

         “We might be gods and all, but we need our sleep just like the humans.” You grin as you roll your eyes playfully.

         “You’re starting to sound like Apollo.”

         “If he sees you like this MC he’s going to tear you a new one about taking care of yourself, and you know he’s going to crack down on your eating habits! You’re worse than Hades sometimes…”

         “I know, I know… I’ll just avoid him at all costs.” Your half-brother grins at you before he waves the ribbons held lightly in his smooth hands.

         “I better get to work on theses. And you better to, if you want to cut down on those piles on your desk.”

         “You’re right. Have a good one, Eudorus.”

         “Yeah, you too.” You watch as your red-headed brother disappears, and the mirror hardens again. Staring at your reflection, you realize you really do look like you’re on your deathbed. Your skin is a shade or two lighter from its usual hue, hair messily tossed into a bun, your bags much more prominent, and lips pulled down in a frown much more than usual. You look away quickly, recalling Angelia’s words from earlier…

         “Yeah, right! Someone like you, fall in love?” You stare critically at the stack of finished reports you need to put in their rightful files; you will never have one of these for yourself… It’s strictly off limits for you as a Cupid. If you fall in love, you lose your job. Sometimes it makes you mad, other times sad, and some rare times, you’re glad.

         Filing cases is the easy part of your job; all the hard work’s done, now all that’s left is topping off the paired folders with golden ribbons and filing them into your large bookshelf for review and approval by Eros. Eros, that sleaze. It’s been at least a millennium since you went through the trouble of pairing him with Psyche and he still has the nerve to waltz into your office and flirt with you shamelessly. Plus, he gets to keep his job despite being head over heels for his wife; who cares if he’s a primordial? He should be held to the same standards as everyone else!

         That’s not what matters at the moment though, you guess. Getting these cases off of your desk is the priority! You managed to close thirty cases last night, so you just need to focus on getting them all patched up nicely. You glance to the new files on your desk; once this is done you can stick your nose into the new assignments. 

         “Is this a joke, mom?” Saying you sounded as loud as Zeus when he and Hades butted heads would almost do a disservice to your anger. You are livid, fuming, downright insane with rage. Her beautiful violet eyes snap up to your own as she gracefully pushes her blonde hair from her face and folds her hands in front of her.

         “Is what a joke, MC?” Most of the time, her voice would’ve calmed you down to the point of rational thought, but not today. You’re ready to body slam her into Tartarus. You wave the files frantically in front of you and drop them onto her desk, eyes on fire and steam running out of your ears. You’re an Ares level threat right now.

         “What the hell are these assignments?” You screech. Opening the top folder you drop the picture of the blonde on her neat, tidy desk. “Yoosung Kim, 21, college student. He’s fucked up right now, mom. He recently lost his cousin, who, might I add, is also one of these files. How the fuck am I supposed to make a dead woman fall in love? And how the hell am I supposed to make someone like Yoosung fall in love while he is like this?” She opens her mouth to respond but you slap another picture in front of her. “Jumin Han, 26, an executive who doesn’t know the half of relationships and trusting another person. I can’t work with this yet! And don’t you even get me started on Saeran and Saeyong, have you even looked through these files? And Jihyun? What the fuck is going on with this guy?” You feel a large hand plop down on your shoulder. A growl nearly comes from you as you look up to your father, his yellow eyes telling you to try and calm down. “Well when the hell did you get here?”

         “I was here the whole time MC. You just marched in, ready for the kill.”

         “Well if she wouldn’t hand me such bullshit cases on top of all my other cases I wouldn’t feel like murdering everyone on this damn mountain!” Ares chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement.

         “You sure are my daughter, but you’re almost worse than me. What have I always told you, little soldier?” Your mouth draws into a thin line, before you mumble your response so lowly that no one could understand you. “No matter how hard it gets, it is your duty, and so you shall finish it.”

         “It could also be Eros’ duty. Or Agata! She only has like, ten assignments right now.”

         “Yes, my dear. But Agata is also very new to working as a Cupid.”

         “She’s been in the department for two hundred years!”

         “These cases require experience and power greater than that of a two hundred-year-old nymph.” You draw your lips into a thin line and eye your mother critically. What the hell does she expect you to do with this? You’re originally a war goddess. You were meant to fight, not shoot people with metaphorical arrows and make sure they fall head over heels with each other!

         “This is the life you have now, MC.” Ares begins, for like, the millionth time this month. You grind your teeth and step away from him. You know that you have to content yourself with working in a quiet office, watching others fall in love, constantly typing on a computer, wearing these stupid pencil skirts and bows…

         “But I hate wearing these damn heels!” Is all you can screech, childishly. Aphrodite giggles as she stands and walks to you.

         “But they make you look so beautiful.” You send a harsh glare up to her; of course, she doesn’t even flinch cause your glares are as harmless to her as a feather is to a rock. “I trust you to handle these assignments better than anyone working here… Even myself. I wouldn’t have given them to you otherwise.”

         “How do you suggest I start these, then?”

         “Drink their essence and see what they need.”

         “I’m not a damned therapist.”

         “Hear, hear!” Ares uselessly calls as he resumes his seat on the couch. He shrinks a little when Aphrodite sends him a harsh, menacing glare; if there’s one thing all the gods have learned, it’s that Aphrodite – and possibly Persephone – are the scariest when they get mad.

         “Yes, but you will know where to go. I can assure you.” You puff out your cheeks and cross your arms.

         “Fine, but you owe me three weeks of vacation since I can’t go next week anymore!” You hiss as you take the files she’d gathered in her hands before you even simmered down – it’s like she knew she’d win you over – and stomp to the door. “I had tickets to the premier of the new marvel movie! Do you know how expensive those are?” You cry, ready to slam the door shut, but giving your mom one more, half-hearted stare.

         “You’re a goddess, sweetheart. You have an endless supply of money.”

         “That doesn’t mean I want to waste it!” And you move to slam the door shut, but it slows just at the end. You swear your eyeballs set on fire as you realize that your father installed yet another soft close door because of you.

         What’s your plan? Dive in head-first and get blind-sided at every corner like Zeus? No way, just thinking about that has you ready to start another war. You need a plan, a good plan, and as much information as you can get. Meaning you’re going to have to work with their guardians. Pompous, inconsiderate, above the law shit heads is what guardians are. In your millenniums, you’ve avoided most, if not all, contact with them. You don’t work well with big heads; they always mess things up because they’re always right, narrow-sighted, and rash. Add to that the state that these wards are in, you can’t imagine these guardians will be the best help… But you’ve got to take whatever you can get.

         And that’s why you’re sitting at a large table of seven guardians, enjoying a measly meal of chicken tenders and fries; ambrosia is too damn expensive these days. But you suppose that as the times have changed, your offerings and followers have fallen to a measly, absolute zero. No worshippers? No ambrosia. It’s a good way to stir up some envy here on Olympus.

         “So, what do you need, Cupid?”

         “I need to know about your wards.” You sigh as you plant a folder in front of each guardian. You point to the empty chair and raise your brow, “Where’s Mina’s guardian?”

         “Uh, she’s out on sick leave.”

         “I thought you guys were invincible?”

         “Well, after all the times she’s worked, I’m sure she needs a break for a little.” Aeneas snaps at you. You roll your eyes; guardians were specifically designed to do everything but need a break. You’d have to check in with Zeus later to see what the hell is going on with her.

         “Okay, whatever.” Continuing, you decide to get straight to the point, “Tell me everything you know about your wards. Why are they in the state they’re in?”

         “Some wards are harder to guide than others.” Jac gently speaks. You look to the soft-featured man, nodding your head. You know that… You’ve always treasured Jac as a guardian, he’s one of the few to look at you on equal grounds.

         “I know. I’m sorry if it felt like I jabbed at you. Could you all maybe explain to me what you’ve learned does or doesn’t work with these wards?”

         “Of course… We’ll do as much as we can to help…”

[mythlived]

[Achilles; Patroclus] “I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things.”

❛  Tolkien on the Sands of Troy !

     (  ♛  )  —  Patroclus wondered, as their tenth year of war donned, how it was they had pushed themselves to fight a war that was barely their own for so long. How they had forced themselves to fight a war in which they knew their lives would be snuffed out as easily as the funeral pyres they lit every night. Honor had long since stopped seeming like a worthy cause. So had another man’s wife. A place in history had slipped into those same ranks. So why, then, had he pushed himself so far in this destruction of others  ?  The longer they spilled blood over the earth, the longer it all seemed for naught, as if the gods simply wished to laugh at their petty, insignificant lives. They fought these wars for them and for what  ?  For a minuscule moment of glory to be immortalized  ?  It did not seem like enough, in the grand scheme of things. But then, he supposed there was not much else to be gained from the battle they were fighting aside from a wife that might have left willingly. Then again, he also had no way of knowing every warrior’s personal stake in such a war. Passing such arbitrary judgement would only push him further into a bitterness he dare not cling to. Not in the war’s final year. 

He let his gaze wander out over the cliff he stood on, the ocean pitch black as it crashed into the rocks beneath him, save for where it reflected the night sky farther out. The beauty of the ocean, of the sky—the beauty of the world they lived in—stretched out before him as far as the eye could see. The salt-leaden winds pushed at his hair, tickling his nose, and rustled the leaves of the trees behind him. He closed his eyes to feel the breeze along his skin and to simply listen. Allowing himself to bask in the splendor of the natural world for just a little while was surely acceptable. Finding time to oneself was rare here. He would soak in every precious moment of it. However, it didn’t take long for his mood to shift to melancholy as Achilles flashed behind his eyelids. 

Opening his eyes again, he returned his gaze to the ocean. This was their tenth year walking the sands of Troy. This was the year he would lose his golden lover. It seemed so cruel to fight a war that they knew would end in such a way. It seemed crueler now than it had years earlier, when Achilles’ death was still something so far in the future it might as well have not been real at all. After all, to their younger minds, death was inevitable. So what if it was ten years away versus fifty  ?  Now that those ten years were up, it all seemed much shorter. 

A wandering mind was not something he should have allowed himself in such a state, but the prospect of a different life, maybe one where they could have traveled all of Greece or even one where they had not been born princes but had still been brought together; one where they had been allowed to do as they pleased instead of being the slaves of fate… was always tempting to get lost in. Perhaps it was the whimsy of it that made it seem so preferable to the Fate they had followed up to now. Perhaps it was the denial of impending loss that made him wish so vehemently for something that would never be and likely never could have been. There would be no light for him at the end of it. After all, he had followed his light into this darkness and here is where it would be put out. He did not know how and he did not know when, but he did know he would be snuffed out with it. It had not been prophesied for him, but the Fates knew and so did he. 

The tears that threatened to follow such a realization did not surprise him. It was the sudden hand on his back that forced him to stiffen, only to relax back into it at the voice that accompanied it, speaking his name. That he had not noticed Achilles’ approach concerned him only for a moment before the other man’s words caved his chest and stole his breath away. I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things. 

It was only natural, Patroclus thought, that he should come along and say something like that. Something that reminded him of why he was here. The only thing he needed to hear. It took two sentences spoken quietly in his ear to remind him why he had fought a nine year war and done things he would never speak aloud. Because truly, he was also glad to be there with him. If this was the only option they had, he would take it. If ever he were given the choice between a peaceful life without Achilles or this, he would choose this a thousand times. He would fight this war on the sands of Troy for eternity if it meant he could love this man every single time. Certainly, it all came down to a few things. Achilles would die, Patroclus would follow. That was what this tenth year held for them. All Patroclus could do was trust that his lover had made the right choice. His name would be remembered, as he had wished. Who was Patroclus to argue with that desire  ?  He could only pray that history would remember him favorably. That whoever wrote of him would see him even a margin of the way that he saw Achilles. 

Humming, he turned and allowed his gaze to sweep over him before speaking. ❝  My Achilles…  ❞  He cupped his face in his hands and smiled, tugging lightly so he could press his forehead against his prince’s. These stolen moments were precious. He would make full use of them.  ❝  There is nowhere else I would choose to be.  ❞  

@duskwilt

[johaerys-writes]

Once Upon A Dream

Fandom: The Song of Achilles Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Prompt: Reincarnation!AU

This is my entry for Day 1 of @patrochillesweek 2020, where reincarnated Achilles and Patroclus meet in Victorian London! I hope you enjoy :)

Read here or on AO3!

***************

The rain pattered softly against the roof of the carriage as the horses pulled it through the grand gates of Lord Angove’s estate. It was just an hour’s drive from London, away from the bustle of the city, yet to me it seemed like the entire city had somehow found itself there. The long carriageway was filled with coaches, horse hooves clopping on the now muddy ground, lords and ladies in their finest outfits crowding before the manor’s entrance. In the dusk that was falling, the lit up windows looked like stars, gates into another realm, perhaps. It appeared almost dreamy, in the way the golden light of lamps and crystal chandeliers flickered and trembled, in sharp contrast to the darkening sky, to the shiny black wood of the coaches, the elaborately dressed figures that wove amongst each other like schools of fish, languidly drifting in warm, tropical waters.

“Let’s go,” my father said gruffly as soon as the carriage had stopped, snapping me out of my reverie.

The raindrops dampened the top of my head, the shoulders of my fine coat. It was amongst the finest I owned; my father had insisted I wear it, though it made me feel even more out of place than I already did. I followed him up the glossy marble steps, through the manor entrance, into the grand ballroom the footmen led us to. Chatter rose from every corner. Luxurious and decadent it was, without a doubt, with high, domed ceilings and elaborately carved columns, with exotic plants and odd artifacts that graced the walls. Lord Angove’s trading ships went far and wide, and they often brought back animals that no one had ever seen before, spices that burnt your tongue if you tried them, wines that were said to steal one’s wits after a couple swigs. The entire room seemed to be an extravagant display of wealth. Father disliked Lord Angove, of course, as he did most people. Including myself.

“Stand straight,” he hissed at me. “Don’t slouch.”

I sighed. “Yes, Father.” I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin. It was a hot evening despite the rain, and the scent of wet earth that drifted through the open windows mingled with the smell of freshly poured wines, of fine perfumes, of food being cooked in the kitchens below. I slipped a finger below my collar and carefully loosened it, taking in a breath. I hadn’t wanted to come, but Father had insisted upon it; so, I had acquiesced. And now I was paying for it, with a head that was already heavy and sore, and an undershirt that was slowly, yet steadily, growing damper.

I sipped on the sweet, red wine in my glass, wishing it was cool instead of uncomfortably lukewarm, when a wave of laughter drew my attention to the far end of the room, where a cluster of people gathered. Someone amongst them had just said a joke, I presumed, a rather hilarious one, judging by their reaction. That someone was standing in their midst, sipping on his wine, eyes glittering with mischief and satisfaction while the others howled. They were all young lords, their clothes were fine and well made, much finer than mine. Frills and ruffles, silks and velvets, thread of gold and silver embroideries on their sleeves, their doublets, their expensive vests. Perfectly groomed hair, beards and moustaches on comely faces, yet they all looked coarse and dull compared to the man they were all so affectionately peering at. His garb was simple compared to theirs, his hair gathered in a simple tail at the nape of his neck, strands of spun gold that glittered in the light as he moved. The colour of his skin was rich and slightly tan, like he’d been under the sun all day. He had this air about him, polite yet just a touch indifferent, like the doings of those around him did not interest him as much as they all assumed they did. Graceful, yet casually unaware of it; eyes as keen and sharp as a hunting cat’s. He smiled when someone whispered something in his ear. Peony coloured lips widened over teeth white as peeled almonds, and it seemed to me that the room grew a little brighter; he laughed, and his chin that lifted slightly exposed the soft, fawn-smooth skin of his throat.

I caught myself staring, and quickly looked away, but curiosity nagged at me. Who was this man?

“The Prince,” my father said, having noticed me watching.

I gaped at him. “The Prince? I thought he was studying in Rome.” So, that explained his tanned complexion, the golden, sun-kissed hair. Or did it?

“He’s recently returned,” Father continued. “The King’s health is failing, and he has been called for. He’s the most sought after bachelor right now. Dozens of families are clamouring for his hand. Soon, he’ll be the most powerful man in England.” He shot me a sharp and harshly appraising look. “This is what a son should be like.”

His words drove through me, like a lance. I pressed my lips firmly together, looked away from him. I hadn’t asked to be the way I was. I hadn’t asked to be small and weak and unremarkable in every way. I hadn’t even asked to be there, in that stifling, suffocating room, yet there I was. And no one was thanking me for it, or looking at me with glittering eyes, like they all seemed to look at him.  

The man in the distance said something again, and the others laughed and cheered, raising their glasses to him. Anger rose in me, slow and dull; and something else, something dark and sinister, like jealousy, that coated my tongue and made it taste bitter like bad almonds. Prince, I sneered, inside my head.

As if he had heard my thought, his gaze snapped to mine. Green and vibrant, twin emeralds that sharpened and focused on me. I stood, frozen, a deer before bright lights. Everything around me faded in the background, the people, the music, the jests and the songs. It was like time had stopped, and there was nothing else in the world, other than the two of us, gazing at each other from a great distance.

I jerked my eyes away, feeling heat travelling up my cheeks. It was not polite to stare. I shouldn’t have done it, yet something tugged at me, something that I couldn’t quite decipher. I turned back to him, but his attention had been diverted elsewhere once more. He seemed to have entirely forgotten I was there. He probably had.

Later, after the food had been served in the expansive hall and everyone had eaten and drank their fill, I had no desire to remain in the stuffy room. While my father talked with Lord Bramante about the King and the current state of affairs, I quietly slipped away, leaving the talk, music and commotion behind me. A few servants eyed me warily and bowed hastily when they passed me by in the otherwise empty corridors of the manor, and I nodded in acknowledgement, hoping that I hadn’t strayed too far, into areas of the house I was not supposed to be. At that moment, though, it didn’t feel like I wasn’t really supposed to be anywhere. The day had dragged on, and I was weary, and I wanted nothing more than to return to my own house, in my own room, and lock myself away from that world that did not agree with me.

I had heard that Lord Angove was a lover of the arts, and that was no lie. I passed room after room whose walls were almost entirely covered by frescos and large paintings, depicting idyllic scenes or scenes of battle from famous legends and stories. I followed them curiously, standing before this one or the other, noticing their details, the soft or dynamic brushstrokes, the colours, the emotions. There was one in particular I wanted to see, one that was said the Lord had acquired at great expense, painted by an artist who was supposed to be a master of his craft and had been dead for at least a hundred years. It would be hidden in some of the inner rooms, I guessed, so I followed the trail, looking for it. When I finally found it, I realised I was not the only one that sought to admire a piece such as that.

The Prince was standing before it. He was alone this time, without his loud entourage. He somehow seemed even more kingly without it. He looked serene, entirely absorbed; his silence and stately grace his only companions. I stood at the door, unsure whether I should intrude upon his quiet meditation or withdraw before he had noticed my presence. Before I’d managed to make up my mind, he turned to look at me with those keen, feline eyes of his.

“Come,” he told me, and his voice carried that effortless command that seemed to come so naturally to him. I obeyed, though somewhat grudgingly. I disliked being told what to do, yet he was the Prince. The heels of my shoes clicked on the polished marble floor as I approached, coming to stand beside him. His gaze had drifted from me to the painting before him once more.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked. His voice was bright and clear like freshly melted snow, with a soft cadence to it that reminded me of the sighing of mountain winds, the trill of songbirds hidden in thick foliage, maple leaves stirring with the breeze. A stream flowing over polished rocks. Rose quartz crystals glittering in the morning light. Painted constellations on a domed cave roof.

Orion, I thought to myself, conjuring the shape of the stars in my mind. The Pleiades.  

I started at my own knowledge. I didn’t remember ever studying the names of constellations. I did not even know that place that sprung up in my memories, yet it felt like I did. Like I had been there, once. Perhaps in a dream.

I took a breath to clear my head and looked up at the large, magnificent painting, brushing the odd images away. The scene depicted was a large and messy one; a proud warrior was standing on his chariot, his golden armour glinting in the sun, his spear poised to be thrown, while scores of horses and chariots ran behind him. Awe gripped me the more I stared at it. “It is,” I replied, softly, as if scared to disturbed the man in the painting from his sacred mission.

“Are you familiar with the story of Achilles?”

“Of course,” I said. “Who isn’t?” My tutor had made me memorise the entire first book of the Iliad when I was little, had made me recite it to him word for word. I was never drawn to ancient myths and legends of battle, their ferocity felt odd and foreign to me, yet the legend of Achilles always held a place of wonder in my heart. A fearless warrior, the son of a goddess, a god himself- a human. A friend. A sworn and loyal companion. His devotion always at odds with his might, his arrogance, his hubris. How could I not know about his story? How could I not be drawn to it?

The Prince nodded, his hands folded at the base of his spine, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “Do you believe that he and Patroclus were lovers?” he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to ask.

I choked in the act of swallowing, and my lungs spasmed in a fierce coughing fit. I wheezed and gasped through it, glancing wildly around me. If anyone had been there to hear-  I did not even want to think about what they would have thought. Lovers? I shivered. Such statements, such words were unthinkable, unutterable, unnatural.  

I did not want to admit that the very same thought had troubled me for nights on end.

He was watching me calmly, his gaze steady, while I gaped at him, my eyes wide as saucers.

“No,” I croaked, “of course not. They were friends, companions, not- not that. ” I blinked, and something like hope rose in me, swelling in my throat. “Weren’t they?”

He turned back to the painting. He stayed silent for a moment before he said, “Would you lay waste to an entire city for a friend?”

“If… if it was a good friend.”

“Would you keep his dead body in your room for days?”

“I-”

“Would you ask to be buried with him, for his ashes to be mingled with yours after you died?” His eyes focused on me, steady and relentless. “Those of your friend?”

I would, if it were you.

The thought came to my mind suddenly, unbidden. It was one of my own thoughts, yet it did not feel like mine. It was as if there was someone else whispering at me, or some hidden, forgotten part of me, struggling to break through. It shocked me to my very core, as much as it gripped and pulled at me. At that moment, as we gazed at each other, I knew it that, should he die, the world would lose something irreplaceable. Something beautiful and bright and true, and wasn’t that a crime to make all other crimes pale in comparison?

I tried to look away, tear my gaze from his but I was caught, pinned, unable to do anything else other than return his stare. His eyes were seas of forest green, and I was wading through them, breathless and eager to get somewhere, to find something. What, I did not know.

My mouth was dry when I tried to speak. "I… am not sure," I managed finally, after what felt like ages. "Perhaps."

He watched me in silence for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, softer than it had been. "It always makes me wonder," he said. "The depth of his devotion. The magnitude of his grief. His… love. Simply put. I do not understand it, yet it pulls at me. It begs to be understood. To be made sense of." The Prince's attention was on me entirely now, as if there was nothing and no one else in the world for him right then. He tilted his head to the side, studying me. "Have we met before? I swear you look familiar."

There was no haughtiness to his expression, no mock or ridicule. There was interest, and earnest curiosity, as if my answer would shift something significant inside him.

"I don't believe so,” I replied, the words catching in my throat. “I'm sure I would remember." He was indeed familiar, I realised. I studied the contours of his face, sculptor perfect, the smooth skin that stretched over his brow. I followed the line of his jaw with my eyes, the tendons of his delicate throat. There was a grace in those features, soft like a woman's, but angular and precise at the same time. He looked like no one else I’d ever seen, yet I knew I’d seen him somewhere before. I knew, with a certainty that startled me, that I knew him.

The sound of his laugh, rich and clear like a babbling brook. His hair under the bright midsummer sun. The amber light of a fire catching in the emerald depths of his eyes. His hand in mine. Moments of happiness and grief, of quiet contemplation, and moments when my heart beat so hard I thought it would burst. A thousand little moments, like fireflies in the night, crowding forward.

“Maybe in a dream,” I whispered, before I’d even realised I’d spoken.

He considered my words carefully, holding my gaze, as if I’d said something of great wisdom.

“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “In a dream.”

The rain, soft like distant whispers, pattered gently against the window panes.