#he admires the trojans because of their kindness

[foxstens]

kevin bought jean postcards and magnets kevin made jean promise he wouldn't try again kevin told andrew he's worth it kevin promised andrew he'd find something andrew could build his life around kevin told neil to run so he would live kevin offered to talk with neil about riko kevin put his issues aside in an attempt to help jean kevin told jeremy to be careful with jean

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place. 

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional. 

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind. 

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book. 

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you. 

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below. 

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously. 

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." 

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out. 

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her. 

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet. 

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him. 

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness. 

"You're awfully quiet," she tries. 

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave. 

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right. 

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams. 

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed. 

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?" 

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus. 

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room? 

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug. 

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?" 

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately. 

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice. 

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull. 

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders. 

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time. 

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman. 

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met." 

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo. 

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea. 

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist. 

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this. 

It's her. 

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris. 

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck. 

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv. 

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.  

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin. 

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain." 

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust. 

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her. 

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..." 

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are." 

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier. 

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs. 

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine. 

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck… 

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex. 

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…" 

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this. 

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..." 

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering… 

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…" 

"Yeah? I know." 

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength. 

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?" 

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

[theotherdragomirgirl]

ELIA OF DORNE and ANDROMACHE OF TROY

I have long wanted to write this meta of sorts, because if there is one mythological woman Elia Nymeros Martell has always reminded me of, it's Princess Andromache of Troy (or Andromache of Cilician Thebe).

In Greek mythology, Andromache was the wife of Trojan Prince Hector, daughter of King Eetion, and sister to Podes. She was born and raised in the city of Cilician Thebe, over which her father ruled.

Following the Trojan War, after Achilles has killed Hector and Troy is being captured and sacked by the Greeks, her son by Hector, named Astyanax (born Scamandrius) was murdered by being thrown off the city walls. His killer, Neoptolemus, son of the mythical warrior Achilles, then took Andromache as his concubine. By him, she was the mother of Molossus, Pielus, Pergamus and Amphialus.

The world of ancient Greek Mythology mostly does not sees rape of women conquered in war as rape at all, and yet, King Priam of Troy, father in law of Andromache, himself talks of the mass rape that will happen should Troy fall.

In Iliad, Andromache is portrayed as the perfect wife, weaving a cloak for her husband in the innermost chambers of the house and preparing a bath in anticipation of his return from battle. Just as Princess Elia is said to be "a good woman, kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit", enough so that even her melancholic prince, who even by accounts of those who admired him most, did not have it in himself to be happy, grew "very fond of her".

Just like Andromache represents the injustice done to the women of Troy, to women of war torn lands in general, Elia represents the injustice done to women in King's Landing during the sack of the city.

Andromache and Elia are both widows of Crown Princes when their cities are sacked, but that doesn't save them from gruesome fates. If anything, being married to the dead heir to the throne dooms them too. One to a lifetime of misery, the other to an unbelievably horrific death.

We first learn about Elia through Daenerys, as she imagines the fall of the Targaryen dynasty:

"Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword."

Daenerys' description of the sack, and what happened to Elia and the rest of the Targaryen royals during it, is very similar to what befell Andromache. Her son was ripped from her arms, and murdered before her eyes, while her father-in-law was murdered by the invading forces. Elia and Andromache's role as mother, a fundamental element of their position in marriage, is emphasized within the text of their respective tales.

Following the murders of their sons (and daughter also, in Elia's case) both women are subjected to aggravated rape. Andromache is made a sex slave, and Elia is raped to death.

Both women had their family entirely stripped from them by the violence of war, making them fulfill the fate of conquered women in ancient warfare.

Both are wives of admired, beloved crown princes seen as the hope and future of their dynasty. And later, widows.

Both loose everything due to their husbands dying in war at the hands of a great warrior. Robert of House Baratheon, in case of Elia. And Achilles, in case of Andromache.

The so-called (or so-perceived) "good guys" of the stories victimize Elia and Andromache, or outright benefit from their victimization.

In some versions, it is Odysseus who kills Andromache's infant son, and then takes her mother-in-law, Hecuba, as his war prize.

Robert Baratheon had a just cause to rise against the man literally named "the mad king", but he defiles the justness of his own cause by walking to his throne of swords over the brutalized dead bodies of Elia and her children (Princess Rhaenys, not even three years old, stabbed half a hundred times, infant Aegon bashed into a bloody pulp against the wall, Elia raped with her son's blood and brain on her rapist's hands, then cut in half by him), calling them "dragonspawn" with disgust. Not only refusing her family justice, but actually awarding the man who orchestrated the monstrous deeds with a crown for his daughter.

Then there is their treatment by other women:

Hermione, daughter of Menelaus, king of Sparta, and his wife, Helen of Troy, wife of Andromache's captor and rapist Neoptolemus, blamed Andromache for her inability to become pregnant, claiming that she was casting spells on her to keep her barren. To the point that she asked her father to kill Andromache and her son while Neoptolemus was away at Delphi.

The same way, in text, Cersei Lannister blames Elia for her unhappiness as wife of Robert. Basically declaring that if Rhaegar had only married her, not Elia, everything and everyone would be well and happy. That it must have been madness that drove King Aerys to marry his son to the Dornish Princess.

Outside of text, we have the fandom's treatment of, and attitude towards, Elia. People who prefer Rhaegar Targaryen with Lyanna Stark, treat Elia as if she was the interloper in the marriage, and not his lawfully wedded legal wife, in eyes of both the Old Gods and the new. I have seen people outright say "fuck Elia and her children". It is honestly... Bizarre.

Andromache was famous for her fidelity and virtue. And it is safe to say Elia was both of those things too. Since even her biggest detractors, Jon Connington and Cersei Lannister, two people who wanted her husband for themselves, could not find any fault in Elia in that regard. Jon could only complain that Elia was sickly and unworthy of Rhaegar, despite the fact that she gave him two children in two years, and Cersei could only complain about Elia's breast size.

And yet, for all their amazing qualities, both women still suffered unquestionably and immensely, all for someone else's "love story".

Paris made off with Helen, and Andromache payed the price with all that she held dear.

Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna and thousands died for it. Including his innocent wife and children.

Andromache.

Elia.

Daughter

Princess

Sister

Wife

Mother

[gingermintpepper]

Why did Apollo favor the trojans in the Illiad?

So, dear Anon, I've been thinking about how to answer this question since I got it a couple days ago and I think I kind of want to make something clear before I get into it.

The Iliad by itself as a poem only covers some of the events that occur in the final year of a long protracted conflict that had been brewing for at least two decades and was an active war for ten. Within the space of the Iliad itself, the motivations and affairs of the major players are often referenced but there are many, many parts of the story that are not there because they belong to a different story cycle that has been since lost or was never recorded with words. In the space of the Iliad Apollo's motivations are questioned a lot - his pride is questioned by Poseidon who thinks Apollo should be just as angry at the Trojans as he considering Apollo was treated equally as poorly by Laomedon while they worked together. His honour is questioned by Hera who chastises him for taking the Trojans' side when he'd proclaimed that Achilles would live a long life and prosper at Thetis and Peleus' wedding. His own sister calls him a coward for refusing to fight when Zeus gives permission for the gods to go wild on the battlefield. For all that there's this image of Apollo in the Iliad as some staunch and unwavering protector of the Trojans, believe it or not, I largely think of Apollo as neutral in the war.

Which, I suppose, comes back to the question - why did Apollo favour the Trojans? The truthful answer is that I don't know. The Iliad and all its connected stories isn't something I've done enough research on to have an answer or a reference to an answer off the top of my head. The reasoning I'm aware of is that Apollo was a Patron God of Troy and really a god doesn't need any reason besides that to protect his people but it's not like Apollo abandoned the Greeks either. Calchas is the biggest example of that I can point to - descended directly from a priest of Apollo and one who attributed his mantic power to the god, Calchas was pivotal in ensuring the Greeks even got to Troy in the first place.

From a personal perspective however, I think Apollo was more dedicated to the house of Priam than he was the city of Troy itself. Apollo's affection for that house and all its members ran deep - from his admiration of Hecuba and Hector to his love and attempted courtship of Cassandra to his blessings given to Helenus, Deiphobos, Cassandra, Troilus and even his partnership with Paris - Apollo loved the house of Priam. When you think about the times Apollo lashes out against the Greeks, it's generally because they've done some nonsense to earn his ire. The plague was caused by Agamemnon disrespecting his priest, his aid in the slaughter of Patroclus was because he didn't respect him, his minor grudge against Diomedes too was because he tried to test Apollo's mettle and well, the less said about Achilles the better. Apart from his obvious favouring of Hector in the skirmishes, Apollo doesn't really oppose the Greeks. He has a ton of reasons to by the time the Iliad rolls around, including avenging the death of two of his sons, but he remains mostly satisfied with conducting his father's business and overseeing the war from a somewhat professional perspective. To me, it's always been less about Apollo caring about the fate of Troy as a city itself and more about him just really wanting to protect the people in the city that he's come to love and respect.

Of course, I encourage you to take my words with a big tablespoon of salt - like I said, I don't really know enough about the facts in particular to give a solid, confident answer but I can give you my interpretation of it. Maybe consult someone like @littlesparklight for a more comprehensive and grounded response 🤔

[joydoesathing]

After a (lot) of scrolling i found out that u didnt give us a hc post abt the fiancés ;-; (u told us how they met but never any hc on them) so could u possibly give us some hc for them??? :3

i kind of intentionally stalled on my hcs for them since these two are integral to the whole underlying doppel and ddd plot in my eyes

but nonetheless here's the hcs:

Michael

A charismatic man with a friendly and laid-back personality

He is highly intelligent much like his fiancee, but masks it with a humble demeanor

With that said, a lot of his female students and colleagues have a secret , not so secret, crush on him. He does acknowledge this and then respectfully brushes it off

Though some of his closer friends and colleagues do describe that he has "playful and good-willed yet slightly sadistic tendencies" (lil' gremlin energy)

But when it comes down to things he truly cares about , he shows his repressed nature in order to defend them : a cold and unfeeling person who follows the beat of his own drum, no matter how deranged his actions are or may seem

He is aware about his fiancee's role in the Trojan Horse Project but puts his trust in her that she knows what to do next, so he chooses keeps quiet and turns a blind eye for now.

He is aware that if it were to be literally anyone else that isn't already involved of the whole project who figures out his fiancee's role in the whole crisis, they would absolutely condemn her and even be out for her neck . And the people who would excuse her role now are probably ready to throw her under the bus if worst comes to worst.

So he chooses to be there for her, every step of the bloody way, constantly assuring her that his hope for her will never waver.

He deeply despises Keppler and those who blindly follow her every whim and command.

Dr. W

A reserved woman who's not much of a people person

She is known to be a highly intelligent individual, however she can come off as quite standoffish and arrogant because she can be quite critical and is the type to sometimes give unsolicited advice.

She is particularly passionate about science and mathematics and planned to pursue a career in the scientific discovery and research fields since she was a student, however it proved as difficult challenge and an almost unattainable dream due to some strong social biases at the time.

But thankfully, she was able to pursue that dream thanks to Keppler, who volunteered to sponsor her until she attained her doctorate degree. At the time, she was pretty much Keppler's lapdog, as she saw Keppler as the only one who truly believed in her potential as Keppler herself even assigned her as the lead researcher of the upcoming Trojan Horse project.

She would later find herself deeply regretting for ever feeling that way. She slowly came to realize the atrocities and lengths that her director was willing to make for the sake of the success of the project.

She felt guilty for the blood that has been spilt in the name of the project. She felt guilty for have once willingly turned a blind eye to the obvious red flags. She came to be very disappointed at herself for being blinded her admiration and respect for that woman.

Her current course of action is to continue to work under her, but also find her own way how to eventually stop Keppler in secret.

[bisexualchaosdemon]

Something about Jeremy's POV of the Trojans vs. Foxes match is so special to me. He doesn't care about media bias, he merely judges them based on their actions on his court. And he shows them so much respect and admiration because that lets him see that they deserve it.

The Foxes are constantly belittled or heralded as dangerous when they're really just kids with fucked up pasts, trying their best to be decent people. I think we get to see that really beautifully through Jeremy's eyes. He watches one of the Foxes (Allison?) steady Xavier instead for going straight for the ball. The Foxes are genuinely kind human beings, they are just misjudged or dismissed far too often.

And they are actually good players! Jeremy is the captain of one of the top three teams in the nation and he's genuinely amazed by their performance. When on an even playing field with the Trojans, the Foxes won 13-9. They had only lost two games all year, despite everything.

(It wasn't just that they only had nine players either, they were forced to adapt in absolutely crazy ways to survive — Both Neil and Kevin played full games without a sub. They had a goalie playing as a backliner and a dealer playing a striker. And, later, a striker playing a backliner. What other team could pull that off? But, I digress.)

They faced too many unimaginable tragedies just that year, and never let it stop them. Jeremy, of course, wouldn't know all of it, but the shit he did know — One of them died. One of them was assaulted and hospitalised for a couple of months. One of them was kidnapped, tortured, and almost killed by his own father.

Speaking of Neil — The bit where he catches Cat is everything to me. The world had just learned the truth about his murderous father and shady past. I'm sure many people would have written him off as dangerous, but Cat didn't shy away from him, and she trusted him to hold her up when she fell. Not only that, but Neil acts as though he only cares about the Foxes, but he caught her without hesitation. He was, in fact, the only Fox who managed to do so before their mark fell.

[babyrdie]

hcs about platonic relationships in trojan family?

I actually have some, but I'm only going to answer hcs with Paris because I already made a post that's kind of about that, so it makes the whole thing easier (it's in my pinned post).

I have a headcanon that Paris, being raised as a lower-class person with extraordinary beauty, became attached to beauty. Like everyone else, he worked under the sun and really couldn't afford to buy those Phoenician fabrics and expensive gold jewelry from the merchants, but the reality is that Paris didn't need to be adorned with jewels and colors to be considered beautiful. In a way, what was most impressive was how, despite the simple clothing, the often practical-tied hair, and the lack of adornment, Paris looked extremely beautiful.

Paris obviously noticed this. He couldn't help but care very much about this, something special he had that could give him some advantages. It was always so much easier to bargain for wool prices when he smiled sweetly and gently touched the seller's hand, everyone seemed so willing to accept his prices. Whether it was because they wanted him, or because people had a bad habit of assuming that beauty equated to goodness, or because they were too distracted admiring him.

However, he also became irritated by his beauty. It seemed ridiculous to him how the most he could obtain was a few simple advantages. In the end, Paris was still a shepherd like any other shepherd. And it's not that he hated what he did, but it was just that it was frustrating just being able to look at the beautiful merchandise without ever being able to have it for himself. At the same time that he was proud of being beautiful, he was irritated that his beauty ultimately couldn't really give him the things he wanted.

When he became a prince again, Paris suddenly had access to things he hadn't before. So many jewelry, so many quality fabrics. It seemed foolish and wasteful not to use as much as possible, even if anyone looking would believe he was pompous for it. No one, at least, would have the audacity to lie and claim that he looked anything other than fantastic. Perhaps he was beautiful as a warning to his fate after all. He was a prince in his own right and, like so many other princes out there, he would have an amazing life. He was destined for this, Aphrodite even promised him the most beautiful woman. He always knew there was something missing in his life, and now he would get it back.

Due to their different experiences, his relationship with his brothers and sisters was a bit complicated. After so many years of not seeing them, knowing that he was a shepherd while they grew up in wealth, it was impossible for Paris not to feel somewhat bitter about this. He didn't blame them for his life, of course, but he couldn't help but look at Helenus' soft hands and compare them to his rough, calloused, tanned hands from working in the fields. It was infuriating that beautiful Laodice looked so much like him, but her hair was clearly the kind that had been nourished her entire life with only the most precious things. But even though Priam and Hecuba were his parents, they didn't raise him and he couldn't trust that they wouldn't just abandon him again. Therefore, Paris has always made a point of appearing constantly content, to the point where he has been considered extremely carefree and easy to please by others.

His most complicated sibling relationships, in fact, were with Cassandra and Hector.

Cassandra looked at him so terrified when she saw him, anxiously playing with her own long, loose hair with trembling hands. It was as if she had seen a haunting, it was as if she was terrified at the idea of living in Troy where Paris was, as if she wished he had remained lost. He was told not to worry about Cassandra as she was crazy and nothing she said made any sense. She used to be a normal kid, but something happened and she suddenly changed, they explained. You shouldn't take her seriously, they said, after all, not even Helenus can believe her and he's a seer. Paris eventually realized, the few times he heard Cassandra speak (she seemed strangely irritated at the idea of speaking, like it was a waste of time. Maybe she was just repressed?), she really only said nonsense. It was impossible for anyone to believe her. And yet, Paris couldn't ignore how clearly she didn't want him there.

Hector was something more ambiguous. He seemed genuinely concerned and caring, the perfect big brother that he was and that Paris never thought he would have. But that was the problem: Hector was too perfect. The crown prince, his parents' favorite, a formidable warrior, was everyone's favorite brother and even the horses seemed to love him. As caring as he was, he cared too much about his values. This meant that, if he disapproved of an attitude, you would probably know because Hector had a moral duty to let you know. And, of course, he let Paris know everything about it.

Paris couldn't help that it was a bit hypocritical of Hector. A man like him, growing up as the favorite while Paris was left out, living in the luxury of royalty while Paris was a shepherd, wanting to teach lessons about vanity and how beauty and material possessions weren't everything seemed like a annoying joke. Hector never lived without being surrounded by these things, so who was he to say anything? Maybe he should give all his precious things to Paris and go live as a hermit in the forest then. What's more, Hector certainly took some pride in his abilities in himself. Why couldn't Paris have his own pride as well? For a long time, that's just what he had.

Laodice, at least, understood him in that. She was always so well dressed, enhancing her already remarkable natural beauty. And she was a sweet person, offering to teach Paris about aspects of royal fashion that he had never been taught before. It was no wonder that they were both so similar physically, it was because they knew how to appreciate what was given to them.

Troilus was sweet and accepting, so he was nice to everyone, which included Paris. He just thought it was cool to have a new big brother. But Paris couldn't help but think that he didn't really look like he was Priam's son, although he didn't question it because he didn't know if it was a sore point in the family (truth be told, he didn't know a lot about his family. Initially, it was like suddenly live among a bunch of strangers)

Helenus spent way too much time with Cassandra, so Paris kind of avoided him (because he avoided Cassandra. He didn't need to have her looking at him desperately, it was disconcerting) but for the most part he seemed okay. Paris tried to ask him about his future, but Helenus simply said that the power was not his, but Lord Apollo's, and he was simply given the opportunity to be a spokesman for the god. Therefore, Helenus couldn't choose what he saw, he could only see what Apollo allowed him. His choice was only whether he would share the visions of Apollo's blessing with anyone, and how he would share them. Paris expected Lord Apollo to share his bright future soon.

And of course there are others, but there are so many people in Troy, it would take forever to talk about. But yeah, it's noticeable that my Paris is a little bitter. I don't know, I like the contrast of a person who appears almost cartoonish being internally complex.

Anyway, be free to send others asks!

[johaerys-writes]

Ch. 5: Bulletproof... I Wish I Was

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The basketball court is busy with activity when they arrive. Their classmates are all there, and Agamemnon is also there, and so is Ajax with Tecmessa and her friends. Ajax grins and waves excitedly at them from the bleachers. 

“What you got there, runt?” he calls out to Achilles, who glares at him. He picks up the bundle that is in the basket at the front of his bike. 

“Whatever it is, it isn’t for you,” he says, drawing the bag that was covering the object away. 

It’s a brand new basketball, a limited edition, shiny and rough and still smelling of newness. The boys gather around to admire it.  

“Now that,” Menelaus says as he takes it, passing from one hand to the other, “that's the good stuff.” He grins, dribbling it a little for show, then lifts it and bends his knees to throw, but Achilles snatches it back. 

“I brought it, I get the first throw. Either Patroclus or I.”

Patroclus shakes his head wearily. “I’m not playing today.” 

“Why?” Achilles gives him a stricken look. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just not in the mood.” 

“Hey, man, you can't do that now,” Menelaus cuts in anxiously before Achilles can speak. “We’ve all been waiting for you two to arrive all morning. You have to play. You’re the best defence we have. We’re counting on you.”

Patroclus glances at Menelaus, then at the other boys behind him that are watching the exchange with interest. They’re from Troy High, the nearby town’s high school. It’s practically a stone’s throw from Phthia, but the two schools have been in bitter rivalry since time immemorial. Menelaus himself has personal stakes in this match: everyone knows he has a crush on Helen, who in turn has been sweet on Paris for most of last year. 

“We can’t let them come here and steal what’s ours, right?” Menelaus says, and several heads nod around them. “We gotta show them what’s what. And today, they’re going back to Troy with their tails between their legs, because we’ve got the better team and everyone knows it.”

“Damn straight.” Idomeneus laughs, clapping hands with Automedon and giving him a pound hug. The other boys cheer in agreement; Alcimedon tries to clap Achilles on the shoulder, but he irritably shrugs him off. He is watching Patroclus intently, as if he’s trying to see into the depths of him. 

“If Patroclus doesn’t want to play, then he doesn’t have to,” Achilles says. 

“Come on, Pelides—” Menelaus starts to protest, but snaps his mouth shut again when Achilles glares hotly at him. 

“Patroclus says no, it’s a no, get it? End of discussion.” 

Patroclus rubs at his temples. It’s too hot and too bright and everyone’s attention on him makes it hard to think clearly. He knows they can play just fine without him, and he doesn’t really care about the petty rivalry between the two schools, or between Menelaus and Paris for that matter, but he hates letting others down. Not when they’re counting on him. 

“Okay,” he concedes. “Let’s do this.”

Menelaus grins from ear to ear, his ruddy cheeks brightening, and throws an arm over Patroclus’ shoulders in a rough brotherly hug. “These Trojans, they won’t know what hit them,” he says, then lets him go to shout obscenities at the Trojans, who respond in kind. 

Achilles draws close to Patroclus, his brows still gathered in concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks him quietly, so the others won’t hear. “You don’t have to play if you don’t feel like it. We can just go back home, and— I don’t know, play video games or something. Listen to some music.”

“No,” Patroclus says. “No music.” When Achilles doesn’t drag his gaze away, Patroclus tries for a half smile. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

The teams separate, and they all take their positions. The game starts, and the tension ramps up with it. Within the first ten minutes, Menelaus steals the ball from Hector and almost knocks him down, then has the ball stolen by Sarpedon, who lunges forth and sinks a two pointer from the freethrow line. There are shouts and shoves and various accusations of fouls and wrong-doings being thrown left and right. It’s a rough and fast-paced game, and it’s clear that both sides are bent on winning. 

“Damn it,” Menelaus curses during the time-out, raking a hair through his unruly reddish-brown hair. “Get it together, team. They’re only four points ahead of us. We need to catch up with them, and fast. Are you with me?” 

The boys whoop excitedly and high-five each other. Achilles rolls his eyes. “It’s a game, Menelaus, not a pissing match.” 

“Yeah, well, even in a pissing match you need strategy,” Menelaus counters. “Anyway, as we said: don’t let them break through our lines, right? That’s you, Pat. Don’t give them an inch.” 

“You don’t have to keep telling him that,” Achilles snaps at him, scowling.

"I— I don't mind," Patroclus says, but Achilles doesn't even grace him with an answer before he grabs the ball and heads back into the court.

The game starts more decisively in favour of the Phthia team this time. Achilles gets the rebound from Menelaus's missed shot and races down to the other side of the court, sinking a layup before anyone else has even crossed the half-court line. The team and the crowd watching from the bleachers either cheer with joy or shout with frustration. There’s only two points separating each team now; they’re neck and neck, and any throw could mean victory or loss. 

The Trojans don’t let them enjoy their triumph for too long. Paris steals the ball from Automedon and rushes across the court; Menelaus blocks his way, but Paris plants his feet on the ground instead of brushing past him, and throws. The ball hovers over the net for a bit, swishing around the hoop before it falls through. More cheers, more arguing, and then Sarpedon takes the ball and attempts to cross the midline again, when he comes face to face with Patroclus. 

Patroclus isn’t quite as fast as Achilles, nor does he have a stronger throw than Menelaus, but he’s taller and knows how to guard their side well. Sarpedon dribbles the ball, tries to pivot, but Patroclus steps before him again. Exasperated, the other boy grabs the ball and prepares to throw it over his head. When Patroclus jumps with him and slaps the ball out of his hands, the entire court erupts in hoots and applause. 

“Time out,” Hector calls from across the court. He eyes Patroclus warily, as if sizing him up, before turning towards his team. 

Patroclus brushes a hand through his sweaty curls. His glasses are steaming, and he wipes them on his shirt. There isn’t much time left, and both teams have almost used up their time-outs. Soon enough, a victor will be declared. Patroclus simply hopes the result will be accepted with alacrity. Little hope of that, he thinks as he kneels to tie his shoelaces.

“Hey, you.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[streets-in-paradise]

Hello there!

Delighted to have discovered your writing because it’s fabulous :) thank you for sharing your work and passion with the world!! 🙏

If you’re still taking fic requests for TROY (?) I’d be super duper excited if you’d write an AU fic for Hector x reader character where Hector, instead of being married to Andromache, falls for a slender Trojan warrior who has his back in the first melee… but unexpectedly turns out to be a woman when Hector demands the warrior remove his helmet & reveal “his” identity 👀 (I’ve always loved the “girl masquerading as boy” trope - ever since Shakespeare!) … and pls do make it as steamy as you like!! Lol

No worries if this isn’t something you don’t want to do/ don’t have time for… 🥹 thank you again for your writing!

Hi!!!

Thank you for your kindness and welcome to my blog 💕 It means a lot getting to know you are enjoying my writing. I'm super thankfull for the encouragement.

I love the plot of your request! That one is among my favorite period tropes.Reader and Hector like Mulan and Shang, YAY!!

My lotr brainrot imagination is also making me picture the reader and Hector a bit like a required Eowyn x Aragorn. ( Only that he has no idea she is a warrior maiden untill her reveal, more like in Mulan) I mean, everyone in Troy admires Hector and our girl being a warrior makes it even easier for me to imagine her having a secret thing for him prior to his discoverment of her. Maybe he didn't particularly noticed her in her lady-like persona, but after that battle things change completely.

I'm doing such Mulan and lotr mashup but i swear it makes sense lol. When the war starts and 50.000 greeks are at your gates every single trojan man is called to fight. The reader could feel a bit like Eowyn, kinda left out when older men or teen boys are picked over her. And after Briseis dissapears? This is literally a " The women of this country learned long ago, those without swords can still die upon them" situation.

And then of course the fact that it Is a war over a woman! If there is one good moment for a trojan girl masquerading as boy infiltrating the army, this is it.

I can vividly picture the reveal scene in my mind, it actually makes me feel things. The tension of everyone as Hector puts his men in formation searching for the soldier, her taking off the helmet ala " i'm no man!". The overall surprise, him glancing at her having to hide the awe cause he is the leader … but he is also shocked and so attracted. And you are letting me make it steamy? Yes, yes!

I'm doing this, absolutely!

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

While rereading Henry V by William Shakespeare, I remembered how much I love Captain Fluellen! He’s a proud Welshman who is kind of old-fashioned when it comes to war etiquette, but he is very reliable and has a big heart (and his accent kills me). Here are some of my favorite moments with Fluellen:

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

GOWER O, 'tis a gallant king! FLUELLEN Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born! GOWER Alexander the Great. FLUELLEN Why, I pray you, is not pig great? the pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations. GOWER I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon; his father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it. FLUELLEN I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth: it is called Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

GOWER Captain Fluellen! FLUELLEN So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak lower. It is the greatest admiration of the universal world, when the true and aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: if you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle toddle nor pibble pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise. GOWER Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night. FLUELLEN If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? in your own conscience, now? GOWER I will speak lower. FLUELLEN I pray you and beseech you that you will.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER GOWER Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy's day is past. FLUELLEN There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you, asse my friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek: it was in place where I could not breed no contention with him; but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires. Enter PISTOL GOWER Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. FLUELLEN 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you! PISTOL Ha! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca's fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. FLUELLEN I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions doo's not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. PISTOL Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. FLUELLEN There is one goat for you. Strikes him Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it? PISTOL Base Trojan, thou shalt die. FLUELLEN You say very true, scauld knave, when God's will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. Strikes him You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek. GOWER Enough, captain: you have astonished him. FLUELLEN I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb. PISTOL Must I bite? FLUELLEN Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities. PISTOL By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat and eat, I swear-- FLUELLEN Eat, I pray you: will you have some more sauce to your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by. PISTOL Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat. FLUELLEN Much good do you, scauld knave, heartily. Nay, pray you, throw none away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at 'em; that is all.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

FLUELLEN By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his belly. Hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you to serve Got, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles' and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better for you. WILLIAMS I will none of your money. FLUELLEN It is with a good will; I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes: come, wherefore should you be so pashful? your shoes is not so good: 'tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

[knickknacksandallthat]

Bleeding Red and Gold

So you can see the original Bleeding Red and Gold answer here, anon, but I'll post one more small snippet to pair with it! Thanks for asking!

So at the end of the day, it’s clear Jeremy Knox must be some kind of saint. 

And maybe the theological comparison is more apt because of how easily Jean can picture it in his mind’s eye: Jeremy painted in the renaissance style with bright and bold colors of red, pink, and gold.  Muscles and flesh on display as silk cloth and armor are draped around him.  His expression calm and serene yet also fierce and dazzling.  A force to behold.

Jean sometimes gets this intense ache to paint him as the archangel Michael, squishing the head of the dragon beneath him.  Good triumphing over evil.  The epic defeat of his fallen brother, Lucifer, again and again.

A perfectly apt comparison for Riko in Jean’s mind. 

He gets now why the Raven hated Jeremy so.  Why he put a dart board up with Knox’s face on it in the Nest.  Why he would hack and slash at it often, ripping the picture to pieces before putting a new one up to start all over again. 

Because Jeremy was naturally everything Riko wished he could be.  A natural-born leader, charismatic and adored, with brilliant Exy skills, an unflappable and popular media presence, and the undeniable fact of being just an all-around, genuinely amazing person. 

There is no one else who can compare.  None of the Trojans even try as they all understand Jeremy is at a level only he can reach.  Far up on a pedestal, high above them, where they have no choice but to stand back and admire his greatness. 

And so Jean figured it would always be that way.  After all, he would never dare to compare himself to the great captain.  As his therapist says, it’s enough that Jean is surviving on his own, making it through each day and taking small strides forward.  He has no time or mental space to try and compete with the likes of Jeremy Knox, the ultimate in human perfection. 

Until one day, when their entire world comes crashing down around them.  One day, when Jean gets a real glimpse of the man behind the myth.  One day that changes Jean’s life forever.

And it’s all because of some pancakes.

[la-pheacienne]

I think that when people admire Haleana for being as outspoken as she was in the Last Supper scene, they don't see how she more of a plot device than a character.

While it's cool to see Helaena be more than a "good mother" as Gyldayn allows in Fire and Blood, her prophecies don't do anything substantial since the greens don't do anything to take her visions seriously and prepare against those against their advantage. And having visions is neither not a personality trait. Haleana is now a device to inject more magic into the story and support the Aegon's prophecy element that already wasn't necessary and actually works to make Viserys and Rhaneyra even less willing to be politically firm than they need to be. Her seemingly neurodivergence or autism is also a nice addition and adds representation, but again that's not a personality trait and it would behoove the writers to show more of her personality besides the autism and visions.

How does Helaena feel about Viserys, the Velaryons, her own kids, Aegon's infidelity (aside from that one speech in epi 8?) What values does she have, let's give more of that. How on the heck did she retain any grace in the tumult of Alicent, Otto, Aemond's violence and Aegon's negligence of her and their kids? How does he interact with Aemond and why are we forced to inject ideas about these two's relationship without any real material? Is she completely unaware of her husband's infidelity? Well we'll never know because the writers didn't think this important.

@horizon-verizon thank you for your meta!

I largely agree although I don't have a big problem with the fact that the greens seems to not give a fuck about her prophecies, I think it adds an element of tragedy. Maybe you already know Cassandra, Priam's daughter in Iliad, she was probably an inspiration for Helaena. Cassandra was the daughter of the king of Troy and she had this habit when she would burst out at random moments predicting horrible shit that has no basis on reality, the way other people perceived it at the time. So she had a very bad reputation because of that. Later on, everything she predicted came true, for example she predicted the fall of Troy by the Trojan horse. But when she talked nobody believed her. This is an important part of the story of Iliad that adds to the overall tragedy of the Trojans. She is also a character in Aeschylus' tragedy Agamemnon, with the same quality. So yeah I don't mind that particular element in Helaena.

However since this story is not a Greek tragedy, it's a TV show, and your characters need to be developed and realistic, Helaena seems kind of flat yes.

Also very important element to nightlight especially in the context of American wokeness, and specifically in the context of HoTD fanbase is this. The following traits do not constitute personality traits:

Color of skin

Being victim of abuse or rape

Being neuro-divergent

Being a lesbian

Just putting it out here for general knowledge.

[wanderingnork]

Re: that Hector post I reblogged. I LOVE to see that wider context of why Hector is so beloved and Achilles reviled, it’s fascinating. Definitely going to reread the Iliad with that in mind. I’ve been meaning to do a full reread for a while so that’s the inspiration I need. XD

That said, here’s why I personally have always liked Hector a lot. It’s not because he’s somehow overall nobler than the Greeks, it’s always been clear to me that everyone in the epic is, to put it mildly, a mess. No one’s free from flaw (and that’s the Point of the whole thing). There are two things that I always appreciated: one, that Hector is the leader of an embattled people and has been clearly doing a damn fine job, and two, he’s nice to Helen.

For that first one, the fact that Troy is still standing strong, has an inspired army defending it, and hasn’t collapsed from within says that Hector is doing his job as a leader well. I admire that. He’s a match for the clever and wise leaders among the Greeks. Things don’t really go wrong for Troy until after he’s killed. Lots of factors play into that, of course, but it’s clear that Hector’s death puts a huge crack in the morale of the Trojans.

Second one…look. Most people in the Iliad don’t treat Helen well. From the gods on down, she’s the target of open hate for a lot of people. At a minimum, she’s ostracized for her role in the war. Which, depending on your source, may not have been much. Maybe she was kidnapped outright by Paris thanks to the inspiration of Aphrodite, and had no say in the matter—and is now being treated horribly. Maybe she DID run away with Paris of her own volition—in which case we’re dealing with a young woman who got married to a much older man she didn’t choose, was rash about looking for love, and thanks to her role in society was probably not fully informed of the geopolitical consequences of her actions. In either case, by the time of the Iliad she pretty much seems to hate her life. Agency or no, Helen regrets the actions that brought her to Troy. She’s not being treated with kindness by the Trojans, Paris has really turned out to be nothing like she believed, and fleeing the city to reach the Greeks might very well result in her husband killing her for unfaithfulness. (Which, kudos to Menelaus, he actually does not do in the end.)

And then you get Hector. At his funeral, Helen is the last of the women to speak, after Andromache (his wife) and Hecuba (his mother). Helen says outright that Hector was frequently her only advocate. He took care of her as Paris should have, but didn’t, and considered her family despite the awful circumstances of her presence in Troy. That’s pretty fucking exceptional behavior, especially given how many other women in the story (even goddesses!) are treated. Sure, Hector is as bloodthirsty and murderous as every other warrior in this story. He’s just as down with defiling bodies and looting corpses as any of the Achaean warriors. But I always really appreciated that he was willing to extend the hand of kindness to someone no one else wanted to touch.

[slettlune]

SECOND HALF in which the entire trojan war gets admirably shortened to about three songs

also closing thoughts about the entire thing

i was SO excited for hector having a song of his own but 'no turning back' is not the kind of song i wanted for him

it is really sexy that the trojan choir has both female and male members though, especially when they go "death to our enemies"

okay NOW there's a timeskip, haha. i was wondering how this would unfold. it feels very abrupt though. "oh god the greeks are gonna attack us" and then "well here we are ten years later, agamemnon what the hell are you doing with achilles' slave girl"

i wonder how in the weeds we're gonna get about achilles and agamemnon when this is paris' story

okay that is a fairly efficiently pared down version of the conflict, actually. briseis never gets mentioned by name but at least it conveys that achilles is fed up with agamemnon's leadership

hoho i LOVE the gentle emotion in quast's voice singing the line "agamemnon you divide us all / with your bitching and brooding"

i like patroclus having a point of view song about his feelings. "oh achilles the blood-stained killer... am i a part of you? are you a part of me?"

but then patroclus has to make it weird calling him "my sometimes father / my sometimes son" just guys being related dudes

i wish the guy cast as achilles could sound sad. but fine, he is SUPREMELY creepy and intimidating in all his non-emotional scenes, it's a tradeoff

OH AND ACHILLES AND HECTOR ARE ALREADY ABOUT TO DUEL. shit did we just do almost the entirety of the iliad in two songs. that IS efficient!

wait so if hector's about to die did they actually NOT do the "hector yells at paris for not being on the battlefield" scene?? in the paris-centered musical??

oh my GOD what IS hector's power ballad about love at THIS point in the narrative. "it's better to love and lose than to never love at all". is he singing that to andromache?? yeah like THAT'S the moral of hector's story...!

paris' shocked "you murdering BASTARD" at achilles is so funny. paris everyone's been fighting a war for ten years because you won't give up someone else's wife. everybody been murdering bastards for some time now

achilles at paris: "you may be good with women, boy / but you're no match for me" 🤨

ohhh so in this version paris asks aphrodite to preserve hectors corpse AND to guide his aim to kill achilles. which is narratively efficient but it bums me out that there is exactly one god in this entire trojan war

fuck YES the ulysses-in-disguise scene is a waltz. i go bananas whenever moments of deception are conveyed in 3/4

ulysses is so at a loss he prays to athena. ladies and gentlemen a second god has entered the trojan war!!

ULYSSES AGREES TO BECOME A HEAD WITHOUT A HEART!! he trades his happiness for athena to help him find a way to end the war. that is a very new direction to take the wooden horse and the odyssey but tbh i'm kinda into it

"we need to find a stooge / a fool / sinon, you're perfect!" "whuh?" KILLED ME

'inside outside' is awful and it just KEEPS GOING. WE GET IT YOU'RE DRUNK AND BURPING. NOT THE ENCORE. PLEASSSSE.

okay NOW helen finally says she loves paris, she's sounded very noncommittal and kinda humoring him about it up to this point honestly

oh and then there's a reprise of hector's love power ballad. THIS DOESN'T FEEL LIKE SOMETHING COMING FULL CIRCLE. WHY WAS IT HECTOR'S SONG TO BEGIN WITH AND ALSO HE SANG THAT LIKE. ONLY FOUR SONGS AGO

AND IT'S DONE.

okay yeah okay. i still think a good portion of the music is GREAT. digging the performances. and i have to remind myself it's a concept album because narratively it's kinda... there are some very unbalanced elements here. the complicated plot of the iliad is impressively pared down but then it kinda fails to focus back in on paris, he's missing through most of the second half, and ulysses takes over the protagonist role. also the whole "love conquers all" thing doesn't really work when it provably doesn't conquer anything on this occasion.

secondly, paris doesn't grow at all. he doesn't acknowledge his fault in the war, he doesn't acknowledge his fault in hector's death. he doesn't look back at the end and think about the things he's been through. it's just "i'll always love you mwah mwah. okay i'mma die now".

i'm still gonna listen to my favourite songs a billion times.

alright paris the musical liveblog let's gooooooo

FIRST HALF! watch me lose all principles whenever i think a melody is nice

like idk man the poster for this gives me that HE ONLY DID IT FOR LOVE thing with paris that doesn't appeal to me, that's why i haven't checked it out before. i feel they're gonna turn him into a hapless but sympathetic hero. bet there won't be an oenone. but here we go

IT'S SO EIGHTIES. I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS THIS EIGHTIES. oh this is good actually

when homer (!) is dramatically presenting all the main players, in my mind i can't help but see them strike sassy poses as the spotlights hit them, their sequins flashing. "agamemnon! of mycenea!"

"ulysses! of ithaca! / longs for peace and security" i don't know if i like that as the main trait he's introduced with but okay let's see how he works in this paris-centered narrative

'head without a heart' IS SO GOOD. ohh it's just the kind of eighties' vibe i like.

oh this this framing might place the blame of the trojan war more at paris' feet than helen's, which i like, but also that he's just a stupid youngster, and that's interesting too: "Not some mad messiah of destruction and fire / Just a lovestruck youth"

ohhh and i LOVE paris interacting directly with cassandra! he never seems to do that in any adaptations. "Sister, please don't grieve / I've learned my part to the letter"

'straight ahead': HOLY SHIT GET HYPE. it's so extremely "cool protagonist is finally gonna live his life" opening number. it's weird to have paris be that kind of protagonist. but also it makes me think about how this poor shepherd boy was the WORST guy to make an ambassador, like cassandra IS right about that.

ugh i don't like when they put the weird histrionic plot stuff in the middle of a cool-ass song.

i'm dying at the others screaming at paris while he's like "the sea and sky :D my friends and i :D what could go wrong, what could -AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

paris falls in love with helen at first sight and assumes she's aphrodite. does aeneas know paris is weird about his mom. oh my god i just realized EVERYBODY'S weird about aeneas' mom, that's gotta be exhausting for him

"i married young, in love with power" oh it's one of those where helen's unhappily married. sigh. okay.

OH the way 'business' takes off after agamemnon's evil laugh. i'm appalled at the characterization but i'm just gonna have to roll with it because the music in this thing rocks

THERE HE IS! QUAST-PATROCLUS. who's like "ummmmm wHY are we having a meeting without my bestie achilles here"

OHH AGAMEMNON TRICKED ACHILLES SO HE WOULDN'T APPEAR AND BE VOTED COMMANDER. okay if we're doing evil agamemnon at least he's clever

oh this is a rum tum tugger-ass achilles omg. ohh i hate this but it's so funny. weakest character song so far

ahahaaa ulysses looking at paris' rags and telling him "To gain entry by disguise is an excellent ploy / I shall remember that, prince of Troy"

i enjoy helen being kinda exhausted by the whole thing. "Stop your adoration, I don’t need complications / I'm not a goddess, I am king Menelaus’ wife"

evil agamemnon using the abduction for his own political gain. hm. that makes sense actually (as long as he's evil i mean)

oh now 'thief in the night' establishes that menelaus really loves helen, i didn't expect that from this kind of framing. how is this gonna end now

HELEN HAS SUDDENLY KILLED SOMEONE? WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN SONGS??

"I love her / I believe she loves me" I WISH SOMEONE WOULD ASK HER. I THINK IT WOULD BE GOOD TO MAKE SURE.

jon english who wrote this also plays hector and does NOT give himself enough songs to go ham on, god his voice is so good when he's PUSHING IT

[blacksunscorpio]

Astro Musings No. 11

Venus/Jupiter aspects in the natal chart...

Will make someone generally likable, charming, generous, and agreeable- especially if it's a conjunction, trine, or sextile you're working with. They'll be the person who might be incredibly popular or someone whose creativity [Venus] is magnified [Jupiter]. They might be very beautiful or well known for their good looks. However, throw a square to Chiron in the mix and this individual might have a hard time believing it. Since Chiron is the place in our chart where we wear our inner wound and a square indicates conflict, the pain to either of these planets has to do with beliefs, how we're educated, and the overall philosophy of life. One could perhaps have a lot of doubt as to whether they are truly attractive.  They could be bullied or hated for their attractiveness or popularity. On the other hand, Jupiter Squaring Chiron can make someone have severe wounds concerning their spiritual beliefs. It's common to see this aspect in charts of people who were forced into a particular belief system or religion. In addition, it's also an indicator of those who were abused by organized religion. Often the case/in charts of those in the LGBTQ community who were perhaps shunned by conventional western religious constructs.

12th House Synastry is a bit like Russian Roulette...

Not to scare any of you with significant placements within this house synastrically or in composite, but remember what I said in Astro Musings 1 about Neptune? Wherever he is, there's going to be a feeling that something is hidden. Deception will be a big factor or just naivete or idealism. More so if the aspects in this house are squares/oppositions. With the Trines and Conjunctions, the energy here can feel incredibly spiritual and binding. [Don't bust out the champagne yet, I said FEEL binding- it doesn't mean it necessarily will be]. Sorry. North Node/Neptune might make you two dream of each other or have this strange 6th sense concerning them and their energy. Moon and Neptune will make two people have an uncanny knack for knowing what the other is thinking. It will feel downright Soul-Mate-esque. The same if Mercury and Neptune are joined.

Now, if the aforementioned aspect is afflicted, two people will Pinocchio the fuck out of each other.

The lies will be endless. Now this might not even be malicious, it's more so two people don't want to disappoint each other, so they put on an act they think the other will appreciate/wants to see. There's a lot of pressure to live up to the other person's expectations. Most of the time, the mask will inevitably fall off and bitter feelings may ensue. Choose honesty first.

Aspects to the ruler of the first house will have a similar vibe to aspects on the ascendant.

That’s because your chart ruler and it’s planet are leading your entire chart in energetic expression. By proxy, whatever happens to it [ruler of the 1st], wherever it is in your chart, will be magnified and displayed. For example, if you’re a Scorpio rising but Pluto is in your 3rd house, it might be very apparent to others that you speak and think deeply. Your communication can feel very “psychiatric" and probing. It might be the first thing people notice about you. If you’re a Sag rising and your Jupiter is in your 10th House, you could make a career out of travel or be famous. Everyone will notice your larger than life persona.

Aquarius Moon in the 5th just like these other aspects, can be an indicator of one who might have a fear of motherhood or pregnancy in general. In addition, One with a Cancer Lilith in the 6th might choose career over motherhood. In a woman’s chart, it can also be an indicator of someone who has reproductive [4th house/moon] issues [especially if there are afflictions].

Lilith in the 6th house may feel that they give more than they get. They might also reject the idea of daily work and routine or general discipline. There can be scandal’s at work as well. Wherever Lilith is, you can guarantee that there’s going to be some ‘taboo’ energy involved. Since 6th house is one of the money/career houses, it can indicate that this taboo will be related to whatever you do for a living.

Placements for those who love animals

Will be Neptunian placements ftw. Neptunians/Piscean placements tend to have a monopoly on the “beast whisperer” thing. That’s because Animals sit between the physical and the spiritual world. They see shit we can’t. So they’ll often take to those with strong “veil” energy. 

Cancerian’s come in at a cool 2nd. This is because their heightened sensitivity make animals feel them quite strongly. They also have strong nurturing energy which will draw pets to them.

Leos at No. 3- Leonine placements have an uncanny love for animals due to their playful and warm energy. Being ruled by the sun, they’ll be literally “beacons of light” for furry friends.

Virgo is ruler of the 6th house of work and routine. Because of their natural capability towards order and discipline, I often see this sign as pet owners. Often these natives have more than one. They’ll be the sign that has Fido trained and operating like clockwork. 

Speaking of animals, the signs I’ve seen to take to cats more than canines are Scorpio and Capricorn. Because of these two sign’s affinity towards introversion, it’s no surprise that one of the most introverted breed of animal feels right at home among them. On the flipside, I’ve seen on numerous occasions where dogs become quite obsessed [Pluto] with Scorpios, on the occasion where they’re not scared of them. 

In a female’s chart, Having asteroid Aphrodite squaring her Lilith

will mean her beauty will have a forbidden fruit vibe to it. Her charm will be directly tied to her wild femininity. However, there may be struggles in how she expresses it. Typical placement for someone whose kindness or mild flirtation will be received as overtly sexual. Her charm and grace might have a playboy or pornstar vibe or she may get her value from expressing herself sexually. It can also indicate one who is just oversexed in general. Be sure to keep those Trojans on hand and get those yearly check ups. Nothing wrong with expressing yourself in such a way but Lilith can also indicate diseases of the venereal nature, especially if in the sign of Scorpio or afflicted in the 8th House

Talent in Fashion Design in the Natal Chart will be

Sun in Libra [Andre Leon Talley]

Venus in the 10th

Taurus 10th House

Libra 10th House

Venus in Virgo

Venus in the 6th

Moon conjunct Venus

Venus in the 2nd House

Mercury in harmonious aspect to Venus

Neptune in Libra

Venus in Sagittarius [Expansive/creative mindset/abundance]

Neptune in harmonious aspect to Venus [Anna Wintour]

Talent in Libra

Scorpio Stelliums [Pluto rules the underworld where jewels and finery reside- Gianni Versace and Anna Wintour have this in their charts- So does Grace Kelly]

Having Nessus in Capricorn can indicate that the father figure in your life might have been a bit abusive or a source of pain.

Having Asteroid Talent in the sign of Gemini might make one very well adept at wordplay. They could have a talent for writing or have hardcore skill at wit. In the 12th house might make them very skilled at writing fantasy or even writing for film/fiction.

Uranus in the 1st can make someone unusual looking, they may look androgynous or dress in a ‘rebellious’ or ‘avant-garde’ way. I’ve also seen 1st house Uranians have flat affects. They can have a demeanor that comes off as detached or in general RBF.

Speaking of Uranus, if you had an absentee father figure...

check to see if your 4th house has Aquarian or Uranian influence. In addition, see if your Sun is inconjunct to your Uranus or squaring it. 9 times out of 10 when I’m analyzing a birth chart, I have a native tell me their father skipped out or split from life very early. There’s always a story there.

Asteroid Psyche touching your 10th house/MC might make you a very skilled Psychologist. Asteroid Psyche [16] is about the mind/soul. If it’s in the house of work/reputation/prestige, you might apply this asteroid's energy to your career

Multi-planet oppositions in the natal chart

Will indicate a push-pull in your natal energy. You’ll be the person who struggles between two mindsets constantly.

If it’s between Gemini and Sagittarius you’ll struggle with the logical and philosophical. You may have constant existential crises. On a positive note, if you’re able to balance it, you’ll be able to see multiple sides of an argument. This is an ideal aspect for someone who debates, is in law, or journalism. If it’s between

Cancer or Capricorn you will deal with wanting to be self-sufficient but also have a deep need to nurture or be nurtured.

The Sign your Sun/Rising is in in your Solar Return Chart

Will usually indicate the energy you’ll take on for the year. In Aquarius your might be tech minded and quite detached. In Virgo, you may be especially detail oriented and cerebral. In Scorpio you may find yourself more emotionally sensitive, probing, or ruthless that year. In Leo, you may be more outgoing- self-centered, or unusually popular.

A Taurus Venus will like to feed you to show you they love you. Being Wined and Dined is how this Venus placement likes to demonstrate they care. They may also like to give you gifts to show you their admiration.

Sorry to break it to you, mutable gang...

But Sagittarius, Gemini, Virgo, and Pisces are among the top signs found in Serial Killers. I.E

Ted Bundy- Sagittarius

Jeffrey Dahmer- Gemini

John Wayne Gacy- Pisces

Mary Bell- Gemini

George Chapman- Sagittarius

Charles Cullen- Pisces

Danny Rolling- Gemini

Marybeth Tinning- Virgo

Alton Coleman- Sagittarius

Kenneth Bianchi- Gemini

Andras Pandy- Gemini

Dean Carter- Virgo

Andrew Cunanan- Virgo

Richard Ramirez- Pisces

Randy Steven Kraft- Pisces

Terry Blair- Virgo

Timothy Krajcir- Sagittarius

Yikes....

Taurus Suns, 11th House Virgos, Cancer/Capricorn 5th Houses, and Libra 7th Housers are typically the “Parent/Mom/Dad” of their friend groups.

Believe it or not, when it comes to “jealousy” over material things, it’s not Scorpio. Taurean/Leo placements [typically risings and Suns and moons] and especially underdeveloped will be the types to hate on you for having something [Usually clothing, car, house, etc] they want. Scorpios, though famous infamous for the jealousy stereotype, will usually show this trait only in romantic entanglements. This is because Scorpio is a water sign. Their primary mode of operation has to do with the emotional realm.

Mars in the 10th House is usually seen in those who make athletics part of their career. 

Mars in Gemini have the most savage comebacks. They will make you feel so stupid if you argue with them. Mars is war and Gemini is wit. You’ll be hard pressed to win a battle of words with them.

I find those with Mars in Aquarius or aspecting Uranus will swing both ways sexually, regardless of how they identify.

Venus in Aquarius don’t really like to be touched/hugged. Picture Voldemort hugging Draco. Ironically, they will usually be the type of people to take up professions where they have to touch others. I've seen copious nurses with their Venuses touching Aquarius. Massage therapists as well. Might have something to do with the love [Venus] of helping others [Aquarius].

Those with multiple planets in the 12th House can make excellent actors. This is because their personality is in a mutable house. They can morph and chameleonize themselves very easily. Superb for taking on multiple personalities for their craft.

Men with Mercury in Leo, Capricorn, or harmonious aspect to Pluto tend to have very deep voices. There’s also a soothing vibe to them as well. James Earl Jones, Liam Neeson, and Anthony Hopkins all have these placements. 

Contrary to popular opinion, Gemini isn’t the only sign that can be a “jack of all trades”. In fact, Libra Suns often fit in in various roles/professions. This has a lot to do with their diplomatic nature. Because they are often the peacemaker and a bit passive than their cousins, they are often welcomed in many different circles. This allows them to excel with networking/social climbing.

Jupiter conjunct/Square Saturn and Capricorn 9th Housers

are the placement[s] I see the most in those who have a deep skepticism of Astrology. Their belief system can be rather rigid [Saturn] which makes it harder/ for them to be open minded [Jupiter] to other schools of thought.

Each Planet/Sign rules a day of the week. Whichever day you were born can inadvertently make you take on some of the traits of that sign, regardless of what your “big 3″ are. 

For example: If you were born on a Wednesday, ruled by Mercury, you can be especially cerebral or witty. Tuesday, ruled by Mars can make you fiesty, athletic and perhaps a bit impatient like Arians. Friday, ruled by Venus can make you extremely charming and friendly. Saturday, ruled by Saturn can make you extremely entrepreneurial-minded whereas being Born on a Monday [Moon] can make you security and family oriented.

Venus in Sagittarius, Sagittarius 5th House, 2nd House in Sag or Venus Aspecting Neptune in the sign of Sag might make one have an affinity for entertainment from foreign countries. I see these placements in the charts of those who enjoy anime, foreign film, or those who have a knack for languages [lot of trines to Jupiter is also an indicator of the latter.]

Asteroid Priapus... will make you want to uncontrollably merge with someone.

 [I’m not even kidding. I had this aspect with someone and my Priapus touched their Jupiter and I wanted to tear the kid’s clothes off. All my friends had no idea what I saw in him. To them, he was not my “type”- whatever that means.] The sign Priapus is in will give you a hint as to what turns you on. In Virgo, someone clean cut, organized or well-groomed might tickle your fancy. In Libra, someone fashionable and sweet-natured. In Aries, someone outgoing or athletic, Capricorn, there can be an affinity for someone older, someone accomplished, or a general “daddy” fetish. 

Sun conjunct Pluto or Sun Square Pluto...

will have gnarly authority issues. Same with Mars in the 1st or Mars in any of the career houses. They do not like being told what to do whatsoever. If you try to boss them around, they will do the opposite just to spite you.

In synastry, a Double Whammy of Sun/Pluto

energy will make two people addicted to each other. All their forbidden fantasies [Pluto] will be exemplified by the other person’s presence [Sun]. The sex will be on the rougher side and can make two people obsessed. However, if a break up were to occur, this placement will make it damn near impossible for two people to be friends again. There’s just too much passion involved.

Astro Musings No. 1  Astro Musings No. 2  Astro Musings No. 3  Astro Musings No. 4 Astro Musings No. 5  Astro Musings No. 6 Astro Musings No. 7 Astro Musings No. 8 Astro Musings No. 9 Astro Musings No. 10

[chifuyusgangshirt]

I'm agree with you. Even if Sanzu managed to catch Mikey in the bonten future, Mikey would be broken this time (I mean even more that he was already). Shooting Mitchy was what pushed him to want to end his life. And seeing him die after have asked his help? Maybe in his arms? When his shell was finally broken? I bet that he may even refuse to run away and would let the police arrest him. (ho god imagine a confrontation with Naoto after that TT).

Jep. Jep, jep, jep.

I mean, yes to the fact that he would probably be absolutely devestated.

So actually I had this idea/theory how this all could end;

Takemichi and mikey or, the rage of achilles

So, we all know love can have many forms, right? Can we agree on that? Because before I start going into a little Idea of mine or my general thought on the ending and their relationship I want to clarify that while I will talk about love this is absolutely left open for interpretation which kind it is.

the illiad, achilles, patroclus, takemichi and mikey

As you can see from my header I'm a big fan of the illiad -especially achilles and his relationship with patroclus.

I see many parallels between their relationship and Maitakes. Let me explain this a little more, okay?

First, let me tell you who those two were and what role they had in the epic.

Achilles is the maincharacter of the illiad, but not in the common sense. No, most of the time he isn't even there. We hear from him, get to know his personality from tellings mostly and when he is introduced he doesn't really show the most heroic traits. Because the trojan war is his tragedy. Anyway, people saw achilles as the strongest of the greeks. He was a demigod known for being invincible. He was the one who was supposed to end the war because he was kinda inviolable, no one could win against him and no one tried as far as I know. Most of his people loved him, they saw him as their leader and he was rather charismatic too. He's described as this beautiful, incredible fast and strong young boy/teen (later on man) with long strawberry or gold blonde hair and a handsome face. He was also not really tall and apparently could have passed as a girl with the right clothes but that's not important here.

His personality though? Oh boy. While there really wasn't a good or bad side achilles mainplot was being too prideful and childish. Really. He was rather arrogant, selfish and from modern perspective an airhead, very impulsive, hated authority and sulky. He was friendly to a few people but really more interested in himself than anything else. He still cared for his men and was loyal. He was also able to be a cruel and merciless. Even the greeks were horrorfied by the things he did towards the end.

Patroclus is nicely said more a plot device than an actual main or side character. He isn't talked about a lot sadly but still a key figure to achilles actions. He was known as one of the nicest soldiers, very kind, a crybaby sometimes (achilles mentioned him weeping like a child) and courageous. While people were terrefied of achilles but also admired him, patroclus was loved by everyone. Being described as the only one achilles would listen to he was achilles' soulmate, his other half -the one he loved the most. It was never explained in what way they loved each other but it was clear that both would die and kill for each other. Well achilles would.

"the man I loved beyond all other comrades, loved as my own life"

So. Anyhow. Patroclus died in the end.

Because of achilles. Long story short, achilles had his famous rage of achilles when agamemnon, a king and the one basically commanding everyone around, refused to give achilles back his war prize (a woman named briseis) not because he needed her or valued her, no because his pride was hurt. He wanted to kill agamemnon but decided to just refuse to fight his war. Which means he started chilling in his tent with patroclus and wanted , no, even prayed that the greeks and agamemnon would be weakend and killed until they realize they need him. Patroclus was not okay with that and begged him to start fighting, achilles said no, patroclus decided to just do it for him and in the end got killed.

You might have seen a few parallels in their personalities by now, right?

The intersection point

Obviously mikey represents achilles while takemichi is patroclus here.

Achilles was completely out of it and even patroclus wasn't able to calm him down, get his head right again- whatever. So patroclus decided to help him. Achilles never wanted to see him hurt and to stay out of this but yeah, he did it anyway and fought as Achilles, wearing his amor. He was actually not bad at fighting but got ahead of himself and overmotivated which did cost him his life. He got killed by hector, basically achilles' a little less strong, trojan equivalent.

And only when patroclus died did achilles decided to fight for his people again. To save them. Because he had to lose the one he loved the most to realize the consequences of his actions, because ultimately he was responsible for his death. Achilles was devestated to say at least.

"A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilles as he listened. He filled both hands with dust from off the ground, and poured it over his head, disfiguring his comely face, and letting the refuse settle over his shirt so fair and new. He flung himself down all huge and hugely at full length, and tore his hair with his hands."

He cut his hair, threw it over pats body and wanted to burn it together. Cried and stopped eating, sleeping with his body -you know the drill. Just wednesday evening activities

Then decided to kill some people and was very okay with dying so they could be together again.

And for me, that's exactly what could happen to mikey and takemichi.

The point is

I don't think someone will kill takemichi -not if it isn't mikey himself- but I'm sure that takemichi setting his life on the line or sacrificing himself could be what can wake up mikey again/bring him out of his own darkness. Takemichi choosing mikey's life over his own is probably what mikey needs because right now he can't see others peoples worth or life the right anymore. He is so closed off that only a piece of his heart breaking could wake him up I think. And he would be so broken. Because that's what he is. He would hurt so much, probably more than now but takemichi is, like patroclus, the key figure to mikey's heart and doings. Takemichi is and was a major plot device used to turn others peoples life around. And mikey as the other protagonist will get his plot device to end this manga.

I firmly believe love is what "saved" him in the bonten timeline. A love that would be for him only, being loved like that, being valued so much that the other person would die without thinking about it twice.

Draken wasn't this person. Because his love was, while pure and real, a love he controlled. Draken had boundaries takemichi has not, he was mikey's brother while takemichi is his soulmate. Instead this love was the key to his downfall. His rage.

The rage of manjiro?

And takemichi for his sorrow.

Which is interesting because his death would have been obvious looked on like that.

Draken and Mitchy are clearly the two people who were able to do something to mikey's impulses/aginst them, and as seen in the other timelines Draken wasn't able to save him.

I think Takemichi and Drakens deaths are/were a necessity. It's optional if only one or both are important for the ending but as sad as it is, Mikey is a tragic character, any relationship he has that goes this deep as a plot meaning that will probably end in sorrow. For winning this fight/war/whatever mikey has to lose. In which way is optional.