nearó theó—

“Name one hero who was happy. You can't. They never let you be famous AND happy. I'll tell you a secret. I'm going to be the first."

[patroquiles]

Achilles every time he has to talk with Agamemnon

[seaweld-blog]

v loose to. do. : 

tags, theme, chill

[seaweld-blog]

fateslain:

his  protest  falls  on  deaf  ears  as  the  blond  approaches  him  once  more.  fingers  curl  around  his  chin,  which  is  met  with  a  affronted  noise  from  patroclus  ;  whose  head  is  tipped  back  ever  so  slightly.  brown  eyes  narrow  themselves  at  the  other,  who  disappears  into  a  bathroom  stall  after  instructing  him  to  keep  his  head  tilted.  a  defeated  sigh  slips  through  his  lips,  followed  by  a  roll  of  his  eyes.  his  free  hand  is  outstretched,  towards  the  taller  boy  —  waiting  for  the  aforementioned  piece  of  paper.      ‘      you’re    persisent.   hand   me    a    piece    of    paper    then.    i    really    have    to    go,    though.     ’

if there was one thing Achilles was good at, it was ignoring instructions given to him. the student was known for being too stubborn and thick-headed to ever consider any other way besides his own. plus, this was the least he owed the other for almost knocking his teeth out. after he grabbed a sufficient amount of toilet paper, Achilles ignored the other’s outstretched hand and stood before him again.     ‘ chill, i’m sure your professor will excuse you for your tragic injury. ‘     he assured teasingly. Achilles tore a small piece and rolled it up then gently stuck it up the first bruised nostril before moving on to the next.      ‘ if you need, i’ll escort you so it seems more believable. ‘  

[medievalthymes]

- The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

[fateslain]

UNKNOWN.

         achilles is overwhelmed with guilt and worry and confusion as to how that happened, so much so he has forgot about everyone else behind him unhelpful to the current situation. he attempts to help anyway he can, but the stranger is so quick to brush him aside, not even bothering to look directly at him as he turns from achilles to scurry away in pain. ‘ wait, ‘ he called anxiously after him, teeth gnawing worrisomely at his lower lip. achilles could not forget and return to his previous tasks with what had occurred, so he follows the boy despite him apparently not desiring his assistance.              ‘ i’m comin’ with. cause what if you pass out or somethin….we should go to the bathroom ! ‘ he insisted. 

did  he  expect  the  other  to  follow  him ? not  necessarily.  hence  his  surprise  when  patroclus  hears  the  boy’s  voice  once  more,  only  to  discover  that  the  blond  decided  to  approach  him  to  offer  some  sort  of  assistance.  it’s  then  that  he  finally  properly  looks  at  him,  to  which  he  notices  the  guilt  that  has  settled  on  the  other’s  features.  with  his  nostrils  pinched  together  and  drops  of  blood  coating  his  fingers,  patroclus  hastily  waves  his  free  hand  in  an  attempt  to  decline  the  stranger’s  offer  once  more.

                 ❛             it’s     fine,     really—  i      won’t      pass       out     from    a    nosebleed.   it’s     not     that     bad.      you     probably     have     class     too.            ❜

[seaweld-blog]

if there was one thing achilles was undoubtably good at, it was ignoring the instructions of others. the student was too stubborn and concerned to allow the other to scurry off on his own, especially since it was achilles’s fault in the first place for being such a brute. finally, the blond caught up with the frazzled bloody mess and corked a smile when he was completely insistent of brushing achilles away. the action only made him more inclined to help. his friend was clearly too dazed to make decisions for himself.        ‘ stop flailin’ around. let me help. it’s the least i can do. ‘      unafraid of intimate gestures, achilles brought it upon himself to grab the others chin a tip it up.      ‘  now stop talkin’ and keep your head up like this. i’ll roll up some toilet paper you can stuff in your nose.  ‘     after properly situating the patient, he disappeared into a stall to grab some pieces of toilet paper. 

[seaweld-blog]

PATROCLUS.

he  is  beautiful,  there  is  no  other  way  to  describe  it.  from  the  top  of  his  head,  down  to  his  toes;  every  inch  of  him  is  radiant  and  without  flaws.  it  makes  patroclus  wonder  if  this  is  what  gods  look  like;  if  this  is  what  makes  gods  different  from  mortals.  however,  achilles  is  no  god.  he  isn’t  like  the  gods  they  are  taught  to  worship; he  isn’t  cruel.  while  his  strength  rivals  that  of  heracles,  he  is  nothing  like  the  ill-fated  hero.   ‘you   are   too   kind’,  those  are  the  words  patroclus  mouths  when  the  moon  finds  it  place  in  the  sky  and  achilles  lays  asleep  beside  him.  a  man  swallowed  by  a  world  filled  with  wars,  prophecies  and  gods.  ‘they  do  not   deserve   you’  is  what  he  wants  to  say,

laughter  fills  the  air,  warm  and  pleasant,  as  achilles  presses  his  nose  into  patroclus’  palm  —  who  allows  his  thumb  to  travel  over  the  other’s  skin  while  a  smirk  of  his  own  stretches  across  his  lips.

            ❛            your      smell     is    just       very      strong.             ❜

the  words  are  almost  die  in  his  throat  when  the  blond  decides  to  throw  himself  atop  of  patroclus;  who  makes  a  choking  noise. a  chuckle  follows  suit,  both   his  palms  cupping  the  face  of  the  other  in  an  attempt  to  smooth  the  golden  locks  back.  fingers  thread  through  the  strands  with  fond  affection  as  he  lets  out  a  hum.

 ❛            no—    i     like   it,    it    suits    you.    perhaps    you   could   braid    it.          ❜

he feels the gentle heaving of his    toned    chest and it makes achilles think about his lungs. his lungs which are under his ribs and within, is his heart. his precious heart. patroclus, though strong and capable, is merely a human he remembers, vulnerable to physical and emotional effects. achilles often thinks about this and they are curious thoughts. he thinks about      protecting     him always; he thinks about loving him just as much. his mind is constantly flooded with the images of this boy under him. automatically, achilles follows the caress of patroclus’s touches, as if he were     conditioned     to react to each little movement. if that were so, achilles perhaps should be more worried that a mortal could control him so easily, but at the moment he could not find himself to care much.      ‘ well well, i hope you are not implying that i smell       rancid     ? ‘       the blond smiled devilishly. teasing patroclus was always entertaining, because often he reacts bashful and flustered.

achilles continued to inspect his lover, eyes roaming over his face and neck and chest. until gently, he      caught      pat’s loose hand and pulled it away from his hair to his lips. he kissed each finger tip then ghosted them over his cheeks and chin.        ‘ you do ? you should braid it for me. you have    capable     hands, ‘ he pointed out with a soft bite of his knuckle for  extra emphasis. 

[patroclusgf]

“I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.”

[fateslain]

`  UNKNOWN.

          flustered and frenzied, achilles places his hands all over the guy in hopes of offering some comfort and reassurance that such an action was not done from malicious intent. the crowd that gathered before achilles are faced with his back, shielding their view from the actual situation. they still snickered and whispered over such an embarrassing debacle. achilles couldn’t help but blush furiously. ‘ why’re you apologizing ? i’m the one who almost knocked you out ?! ‘ he said half in laughter half in strained concern. ‘ let me help you, ‘ the golden haired boy insisted and pulled his teal scarf off from around his neck to offer it up to the other’s possibly bloody nose. achilles has never felt so shitty in his life. 

too  much  happens  all  at  once;  chaos  radiating  off  of  the  guy  in  front  of  him  —  who  seems  even  more  distraught  than  patroclus.  he’s  unsure  whether  or  not  he  should  appreciate  that.  given  his  response,  one  would  assume  that  he  feels  remorseful.  which  is  better  than  anger.  the  snickers  do  not  fall  on  deaf  ears,  though  he  has  gotten  quite  good  at  ignoring  others  over  the  years.  crimson  stains  his  fingertips,  causing  him  to  let  out  a  quiet  (  and  annoyed  )  ‘shit’.  he  quickly  shakes  his  head  when  the  blond  offers  him  his  scarf,  fingers  contuining  to  pinch  his  nostrils  together  as  he  turns  away  from  the  boy  and  his  friends.

                  ❛                                                 i       was     paying   more    attention    to    my    phone.    we’re    both    at    fault    here.   and    no,    it’s    fine—  i    should    go    anyway,    i    have   class.                 ❜

[seaweld-blog]

         achilles is overwhelmed with guilt and worry and confusion as to how that happened, so much so he has forgot about everyone else behind him unhelpful to the current situation. he attempts to help anyway he can, but the stranger is so quick to brush him aside, not even bothering to look directly at him as he turns from achilles to scurry away in pain. ‘ wait, ‘ he called anxiously after him, teeth gnawing worrisomely at his lower lip. achilles could not forget and return to his previous tasks with what had occurred, so he follows the boy despite him apparently not desiring his assistance.              ‘ i’m comin’ with. cause what if you pass out or somethin....we should go to the bathroom ! ‘ he insisted. 

[waldaunikolaj]

Favorite Quotes (The Song of Achilles)

[arxstosachaxon]

FUCK (source)

[seaweld-blog]

BLOODY NOSE GUY —

perhaps  it’s  his  own  fault,  for  staying  up  til  sunrise  to  finish  his  paper,  or  for  paying  more  attention  to  his  phone.  one  moment  he’s  making  plans  with  briseis,  and  the  next  moment  he  hears  a  loud  voice;  filled  with  pride  and  joy.  the  voice  is  pushed  to  the  background,  forgotten  and  ignored,  until  something  hits  him  in  his  face.  there’s  the  shooting  pain,  followed  by  a  very  loud  ‘ow,  fuck’,  and  then  his  hand  flies  to  his  nose;  his  fingers  instantly  covering  his  reddened  skin. 

             ❛                                               no !    i   mean—     sorry,    ow,    i   should’ve      looked      where     i     was      going.                ❜

          flustered and frenzied, achilles places his hands all over the guy in hopes of offering some comfort and reassurance that such an action was not done from malicious intent. the crowd that gathered before achilles are faced with his back, shielding their view from the actual situation. they still snickered and whispered over such an embarrassing debacle. achilles couldn’t help but blush furiously. ‘ why’re you apologizing ? i’m the one who almost knocked you out ?! ‘ he said half in laughter half in strained concern. ‘ let me help you, ‘ the golden haired boy insisted and pulled his teal scarf off from around his neck to offer it up to the other’s possibly bloody nose. achilles has never felt so shitty in his life. 

[seaweld-blog]

PATROCLUS —

he  lives  for  these  moments  for  they  are  rare  and  unique.  a  wave  of  tranquility  washes  over  them,  and  for  a  moment  they  can  forget  about  duties,  responsibilities,  prophecies.  if  patroclus  could  choose  a  single  moment,  a  moment  in  which  he  wanted  to  live  forever,  he  would  choose  mornings.  mornings  filled  with  wandering  hands  and  soft  kisses.  mornings  filled  with  sunlight,  with  golden  rays  that  fall  upon  golden  locks  and  light  skin;  causing  the  man  beside  him  to  appear  immortal,  godlike.  if  people  could  see  the  way  achilles  looked  when  the  first  rays  of  sunlight  hit  his  sleeping  form,  they  would  write  songs  about  it.  poems  could  be  dedicated  to  his  beauty.  every  inch  of  him  continued  to  mesmerize  patroclus  on  a  daily  basis;  for  his  beauty  could  rival  that  of  even  the  fairest  in  greece.

             ❛           i     could   tell.     you    smell     like     the      ocean.        ❜

salt  and  sea  water  clings  to  his  skin,  to  his  hair,  like  it  always  does.  the  scent  has  become  synonymous  with  achilles  over  the  years,  which  should  not  surprise  him  given  the  fact  that  his  mother  is  the  leader  of  the  nereids;  a  sea  goddess.  the  sea  had  always  been  partial  to  achilles,  always  allowing  him  to  return  safe  if  he  were  to  travel.

though,  patroclus  doesn’t  want  to  spend  more  time  thinking  about  the  other  man’s  mother  —  for  no  good  could  come  of  that.  instead,  he  hums  briefly  while  his  free  hand  inches  towards  the  golden  strands  that  frame  achilles’  face.  he  allows  himself  to  twirl  a  few  strands  around  his  fingers;  his  eyes  observing  the  other’s  hair.

                              ❛              it      has     gotten     longer.             ❜

          curious amber eyes fixed themselves upon him and the demigod knew it. achilles could always sense when patroclus stared at him, while to many things he was unaware of and indifferent to, he was never of patroclus. his lover could barely move a centimeter and achilles would follow that direction. he would know exactly where and how he stood without a doubt; he would go as far and say he would know him even in death. — however, death was a thought for old hags and life has just begun to bloom between them. nothing would separate him from his patroclus.          so as thoughtful eyes gazed upon his form,  the younger peered up under his silky long tendrils to meet those captivating eyes that studied him so lovingly. achilles would be lying if he did not admit he enjoyed the subtle worship he was receiving. the thought caused a curly, but quintessential smirk to tug at his pink lips.  ‘ do you smell me without my knowledge my love ? ‘ a melodic laugh bubbles from his pale chest and he nuzzles into the calloused hand that caressed his hair. achilles is glad the subject of his mother was quickly forgotten. he rather not think about how at any moment she could lay her eyes upon them whenever it pleased her.           once achilles tired of the awfully too distant touches, he threw himself on top of patroclus’ chest, arms pillowing his head and hair cascading over the older’s torso as he angled his face towards him. ‘ has it ? does it bother you ? perhaps i should cut it, no ? ‘

[fateslain]

@gloryborne 

monday’s  are  tiring,  especially  when  one  has  slept  less  than  five  hours.  amber  colored  eyes   are  glued  to  the  phone  in  his  palm,  his  thumb  swiping  over  the  screen  as  he  taps  a  quick  reply  to  briseis. ‘monday’s  suck’  his  message  reads,  ‘no  shit,  sherlock’  is  the  reply  he  receives.  it’s  the  first  thing  that  manages  to  bring  a  smile  to  his  face,  all  day.

[seaweld-blog]

       fanciful words spilt from eager lips as bright eyes and wild hands illustrated tales from a particular glorious victory. more specifically, achilles’ victory. his voice was boisterous; his chest puffed out; his pointed chin jutted upwards as he reminisced over a valiant brawl against a fein twice his size. ‘ believe me when i say, that man was a beast, but if you woulda seen me, you would think my strength was a trait inherited from hercules himself, ‘ he proudly proclaimed before flinging his arms out to flex and flash them, only he was halted when his fist connected with an unidentified subject and the self-proclaimed warrior yelp.              ‘ oh shit ! m’ sorry man, i didn’t see you. are you okay ?! ‘

[plantk-art]

I feel like I could eat the world raw.

[heavensickness]

The name of Achilles (Αχιλλευς) is derived from Greek "αχος", meaning “pain” and “grieving”; for that his suffering never ends.

[cosmicpirates]

imagine a modern au where achilles is such a drama queen and he’s always making these grand bold declarations of love and devotion which after a while just leaves patroclus rolling his eyes like

“i dont need you to die or kill for me i just need you to do the dishes”

[breadloco]

patroclus: damn achilles

achilles: please no

patroclus: back at it again with those heels