COMPANION

tsoa based. written by e. sideblog to princeandrci.

[therapvn]

I’VE MOVED!! seeing as keeping up activity on this blog has been really difficult for me, i’ve moved patroclus to my multimuse. i’ll be keeping this blog for reference, and i will be keeping three threads and dropping the rest of them —- that said, i am still interested in continuing things that we have plotted, so though i may be dropping the threads, we can absolutely still do things in out plot.

[therapvn]

I’VE MOVED!! seeing as keeping up activity on this blog has been really difficult for me, i’ve moved patroclus to my multimuse. i’ll be keeping this blog for reference, and i will be keeping three threads and dropping the rest of them ---- that said, i am still interested in continuing things that we have plotted, so though i may be dropping the threads, we can absolutely still do things in out plot.

[apathes-patrochilles]

The song of Achilles as Troubled Birds

Achilles:

Patroclus:

Tethis:

Agamemnon:

Oddyseus:

Briseis:

Hector:

Paris:

[therapvn]

...

[therapvn]

i love patroclus . . . sure would love to write him one day

[pokemon-personalities]

an aesthetic that will never go out of style: making others feel loved, needed, and important 

[therapvn]

@willfcrgive // aquarium boys

there is excitement in his small smile. fingertips brush over the stamp pressed to the back of his hand, and linger for a moment before he drops that hand to grasp his friend’s. he cannot remember the last time he had come to see the countless underwater creatures in the aquarium, and only on thinking that luke might enjoy it has he considered returning. it is, besides this, a distraction against the still pressing absence of his beloved, effective enough that in the moment, he can allow himself not to think of him.

“ where do you want to go first? ” they’ll have their pick of the several floors : patroclus is sure they’ll see everything before the day ends, and is glad for it. hands held between them, shoulder brushes against his friend’s affectionately. “ maybe we ought to start with tropical fish on the top floor, and then work our way down? ”

[hawkgirls-deactivated20260403]

[nursejpg]

*listens to ur heart with a stethoscope* *takes ur temperature* *flashes a light in ur eyes* yep…. it’s exactly as i expected…. ur really cute….. *writes a prescription for lots of kisses*

[therapvn]

andessence:

David fastens string around his somewhat impressive wrapping job, and finally drops his hands to look at Patroclus in bemusement. He’s trying not to be cross, really, because he knows this protestation only comes out of care, and care is something on which David does not look lightly; he’s not had much of it, and would like NOT to persuade Patroclus with his behavior that that care is misplaced. But…

“He doesn’t need to do anything, naturally! He’s mean, and he’s thoughtless, but I like him. You don’t like a person because you want him to CHANGE.” Then with the ease that marked a long history of memorization, he recites: “Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity.”  Oh, he hasn’t meant to be quite so overt…!  Lips pressed firmly against any further liability, he turns his face back to his work. “Or… something of that kind. We like friends as they are, so I— I like Dakin as he is.”

skeptical eyes meet that bemused look, and patroclus must remind himself not to cross his arms ---- though frustration swelters within him, he won’t allow himself to force it upon david. because with his care comes the quiet need for protection : he cannot sit idly by whilst his friend gives himself to what will surely result in heartbreak and disappointment. and though words feel terribly inadequate, what else does he have?

“ i’m not suggesting that you ought to try and change him, david. ” patroclus finds himself resting a hand over those carefully wrapped gifts. it is as though he mourns the care wasted on someone who he’s sure is incapable of returning it. some people, he thinks, are so far gone that even love will not find in them beauty. and he fears david won’t understand that until it’s too late. he fears that he’ll be severely hurt. ( this, to patroclus, is an unbearable thought. )

his voice is steady ---- brown hues intently watch the other’s expression. “ i don’t think he’ll change at all, and that’s exactly the problem. he’s unkind to you now, and i don’t think he’ll ever stop, and that is not friendship. ”

[therapvn]

willfcrgive:

IT  IS  A  CONSCIOUS EFFORT  FOR  LIDS  TO  LIFT  FROM  PALE  HUES,  vision distorted  as if  surroundings  are  composed  of  oil  paints. sounds  and  colors mesh  together,  and  he  dare  not  continue to  watch  for  fear  the  growing  nausea will  overtake.  

still,  when  the  words  of  his  friend  register, head  tilts  upon  its  pillow to  face  them.  his  gaze  fixates  upon  patroclus,  brown  curls  and  matching  eyes  coming  into  focus.  a  knot  has  formed  in  his  throat.

he  should not  cry—already  the  pain  in  his  head  is  overwhelming—but  his  own  wishes cannot  combat  the  burning  behind his  eyes.  a  shaky  inhale will  pass  through parted  lips  as  trembling  fingers reach  to land  weakly  upon  the  other.

biting  exhaustion  laces  every  heavy  breath,  works  its  ache  into his  very  marrow  so  that  movement itself  is  taxing.  the thought  of  further  imposition  is  enough  to  shrink  his  voice  so  that  his  request  is  barely  above  a  whisper as  tears  trail  from  the  corner  of  each  eye.

“  can  i—would  it  be  alright  if  I  rest  here, for  a  little while?  ”

trembling hand reached to him is caught : squeezed in reassurance. bandages are securely set. unoccupied hand reached for painkillers ---- white pills rest in open palm, offered but not required. he needs to relieve his friend of pain, because it is unbearable to see him suffer. because every tremble and every tear pierces his heart, and his own eyes threaten to blur.

practice will not make him cold ---- training will not numb him from the anguish in seeing his friend’s injury. his fingertips burn with worry, and teeth tear his cheek, relentless. calm is a wall built around worry. it is superficial, and poorly maintained.

careful movements guide luke’s hand to rest upon patroclus’ knee ---- to connect them even as patroclus leans away to retrieve a light blanket, which is soon drawn over his friend’s shoulders. when pain subsides, he will ask to lay beside him : to hold him closely, and promise over and over that while he recovers, no harm will befall him.

“ yes, of course. ” soft voice dares not disturb the quiet apartment, and patroclus finds himself holding luke’s hand again, thumb tracing over knuckles absently. “ stay as long as you need to. ” it is not imposition or invasion ---- he could never hold such thoughts to his friend. his expression is earnest, and hides poorly his sorrow. “ i will take care of you. ”

[evanrsiers]

[ LITERATURE EDITORIAL SERIES ] Homer’s The Iliad

↳ Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

[alleviatiiona]

patroclus isn't sure what to get luke for his birthday, so he leaves him a big box of gardening supplies & many many packets of plant seeds & some small cute hummingbird feeders

A  JOYOUS  LAUGH  ESCAPES,  hands  clasping tightly  together  as  he  peers  into  the  package’s  contents. he’d  been  startled at  the  massiveness only  to  be  even  more  so  upon  peering inside.  he  loves  all  of  it!  what thought  had  guided his  friend’s  choices in  gifts,  and  to  remember at  all!  there  are  birds  that  will  be  fed  and  to  be  watched,  his garden  will  be  expanded—so  much  potential and  all  out  of  his  friend’s kindness.  patroclus  will  have  to  join him  to  see  how  these  treasures  will  be  used  so  the  enjoyment  can  be  spread to  the  both  of  them.

flustered  pink has  tinged  freckled cheeks,  a  wide  smile  claiming expression.  there  is  a  familiar burning  behind  pale  hues  that  begins  to  distort his  vision,  not  out  of  sadness, but  just  the  opposite.  it  is  all  he  can  do  to  admire  the  contents  and  drag  the  heel  of  his  wrist  across  an  eye,  lips  parted  for  words  that  won’t  come  in  favor  of  an  excited  breath. only  after  a  moment  does  he  speak, a  slight  tremble to  his  voice.

“  oh,  patroclus,  this is  so  thoughtful. so,  so  thoughtful. I’m—I  love  it.  I  love  you. ”  he rises  from  his  crouch  and  approaches    with extended  arms,  wrapping them  tightly  around his  friend.  “  thank  you,  so  much. ”

@therapvn 

[lisbon]

[googoogooby]

Me

[therapvn]

u know what’s really sad? patroclus slowly getting desensitized to violence as the war goes on. patroclus hating it when people are hurt, but slowly finding it harder and harder to be angry about it because he just sees so much pain that he has to guard himself against it. patroclus getting so tired that he sort of questions whether helping people is even worth it, but not being able to stop because he hates the idea that he could be useless against all the violence. patroclus forcing himself to detach himself from the violence around him, because it’s terrible, but there’s so much of it that he simply can’t survive paying attention to it all the time.

[therapvn]

@willfcrgive // continued.

IT’S  AS  IF  FOG  IS  COATING THE  EDGES  OF  HIS  VISION LEAVING  SURROUNDINGS  UNFOCUSED,  though  he  knows  whose  couch  on  which  he  lays,  is  painfully aware  who  he  is  imposing upon.  behind  his  eyes  is  an  awful  pounding,  heavy  daze lingering  from  the  hit  to  the  head  that  had  left  his  ears  ringing, a  violet  hue  dusted  across his  face.  it  hurts, and  curled  toes  are  pushing against  the  cushions below  him,  unable to  retain  stillness. it  takes  a  moment  for  his  friend’s words  to  register, and  he  responds in  a  soft  voice,  subtle strain  beneath  each  word.

      “  no,  of  course  not.  I  know  you  wouldn’t. but  you  should  have. I’m  so  grateful  for  your  generosity, but  there’s  no  reason  you  should  have  to  deal  with  the  consequences  for  my  mistakes, patroclus.  it  isn’t  fair to  you.  ”

after  all,  it  was  his  own  decision that  thrust  trouble upon  him,  his  own  misstep  that  resulted  in  the  hit.  he  cannot expect  to  fall  into  the  arms  of  another  when  life  has  kicked  him  off  balance. he  is  to  clean  up  his  own  mistakes, pick  himself  off  the  ground  lest  he  abuse  the  kindness of  his  friends.

generosity : the result of his action, not the cause of it. patroclus knows well his intolerance for uselessness ---- knows well that he cannot deny the impulse to raise worn fists against harshness. and so there is no imposition here, because patroclus knows that he could not leave his friend to suffer the consequences of his actions by himself. that even considering such neglect would send him spirally into listless self - loathing.

his pain had always come when he had no one to whom he might turn for assistance, and he knows how frightening it feels. his inaction will not cause his friend to feel something similar. ( not again. )

“ it isn’t fair for you to deal with those consequences alone either, luke. ” an indisputable argument in his mind : his heart will not let him become so cold that he might imagine a retort. is he not determined to become better than those who have caused himself and his friend harm ---- terrified of stagnancy becoming harmful in itself?

deft hands offer steady treatment ( he had been first certified for first aid in his youth, and has never let it expire ) and with gentle action, he tends injuries as well as he can with the available supplies. when he is done, he will ask luke to stay ---- to monitor him, and to ensure the damage sustained is only physical. “ i would never leave you alone, especially not when you’re hurt. you’re my friend. ”

[therapvn]

willfcrgive:

RELIEF SETTLES  AT  HIS  FRIEND’S  APPROVAL, solemnness  carved  into  his  expression beginning  to  melt.  it  is  something. it  isn’t  enough, could  never  be  enough, but  to  ease  the  pain  of  a  loved  one  is  an  instinctual  desire. to  protect  with  all  he  has.  let  him  have  luke’s closeness,  his  affections, merely  his  presence to  fill  a  house  heavy  in  its  emptiness. gentle  circles  are  stroked  across the  other’s  back,  fingers  dragging along  the  divots of  ribs  and  spine,  as  if  soothing a  child.

       “ I  would  be  happy  to.  I  love  you, and  I  won’t  leave  you,  dear  friend.  there  are  no  things more  important  than  your  wellness. until  achilles  returns, or  until  you  want  your  space  back,  I  will  be  here  for  you.  ”  it  is  a  promise and  luke  does  not  break  his  promises. he  will  be  whatever  his  friend  needs  him  to  be,  always within  arms-reach.  let  him  ease  the  weariness eating  away  at  life.  already he  is  planning that  the  early  morning  tomorrow will  be  to  begin cleaning  and  fixing  breakfast so  patroclus  has  something  positive  to  wake  up  to.  he  knows  well  how  self-care can  become  too  taxing to  accomplish  on  one’s  own,  and  for  one’s own,  but  luke  does  not  do  this  for  himself. words  are  murmured against  disheveled  hair.  “ don’t  let  me  cross  your  boundaries,  I  don’t  mind  sleeping  on  the  couch, but  if  having someone  close  at  night  would  be  of  comfort, then  we  can  share  a  bed.  I  know  how  the  nights are  always  worse  when  you’re hurting,  and  I  don’t want  you  to  feel  alone. ”

it  does  not  matter what  ails  the  mind,  somehow  when  sun  drains from  the  horizon and  the  silence of  night  settles, the  demons  lurking within  begin  to  stir. and  he wants  little  more  than  to  hold  his  precious  friend close  and  allow  him  feelings of  safety  and  comfort.

absence is constantly felt : in comments that earn no response, and in meals made for one, and in an empty bed at night ---- hand meets no warmth when in desperation it reaches for the memory of a body, and leaves fingers cold and stiff against an unused pillow. sleep has never come easily to patroclus, and in achilles he had found relief ---- adoration in resting moonlit features has delivered him through long nights time and time again. only in missing achilles, has patroclus remembered how terrible it had been before. he remembers how insecure and panicked he’d felt every night that his father had come in to find him hiding. how defenseless he’d been.

remember that you’re safe. he wants so badly to be able to listen. achilles has made you safe. luke will make you safe.

against his friend’s breath he measures his own : calm begins to settle through him as he listens to the faint thud of his heartbeat. stinging tears are silent ghosts on his cheeks, brushing over swollen skin and falling onto the other’s shirt, haunting an expression marred by sadness. with achilles, the light within him has left, and in darkness he has struggled, but this ---- luke staying, and luke caring about him ---- feels like hope : a light against the darkness, promising the warm that had left with achilles.

and though it will still feel as though the sun itself has died until his beloved returns, patroclus knows he cannot suffer lightless for much longer ---- he knows that a glimmer of brightness is enough to remind him that he will survive. “ thank you. ” a murmur muffled against the other’s shirt. and then : “ i love you too. ”

to breathe ---- to speak ---- patroclus knows he must lift his weary head. embracing arms only loosen slightly, and head is moved from chest to shoulder, and the young and frightened part of him wants to be held for hours more in this place. impracticality prevents it. his throat is raw when he speaks. “ you can share the bed with me. i don’t like being alone at night. . .  will you keep me close? it’s been hard to sleep without him there. ”