Achilles And Patroclus - Blog Posts

“Go,” she said, “he waits for you”

'Brother in arms' oh they were in each other's arms alright

finished tsoa, never talk to me again

"Patroclus, he says, Patroclus. Patroclus. Over and over until it is sound only."

-TSOA, Madeline Miller

It is right to seek peace for the dead. You and I both know there is no peace for those who live after.

-TSOA, Madeline Miller

The sun sank below Pelion’s ridges, and we were happy.

-TSOA, Madeline Miller

He smiled, and his face was like the sun.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

We reached for each other, and I thought of how many nights I had lain awake, loving him in silence.

TSOA, Madeline Miller.

He would sail to Troy and I would follow, even into death.

TSOA, Madeline Miller.

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell. I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

When he died, all things swift and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.

TSOA, Madeline Miller.

There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

This and this and this.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

Philtatos.

TSOA, Madeline Miller.

A sly smile spread across his face; he had always loved defiance.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

I am made of memories.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

Pa-tro-clus.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

What has Hector ever done to me?

TSOA, Madeline Meyer

He is half of my soul, as the poets say.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

And perhaps it is greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

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

TSOA, Madeline Miller

We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but each other.

TSOA, Madeline Miller

the fact that in ancient Greece philosophers were debating whether Achilles was a top or a bottom (or a twink or a bear if you prefer) will never not be funny to me

thinking about this comment about patrochilles in hades game and now cant stop thinking of little zagreus and cg parents patroclus and achilles i wanna write that rn but idk

Out of curiosity...

Just finished reading the Symposium, in which a guy named Phaedrus claims that Aeschylus is ridiculous for believing that Achilles is the lover and Patroclus the beloved. (i.e. that Achilles tops.)

Phaedrus argues that Patroclus was the lover (the top) and Achilles the beloved (the bottom), as Patroclus was older and Achilles more beautiful.

seriously, the only consistent exceptions I have seen on this website are odypen, percabeth, and frazel, and getting rid of those would like trying to make patrochilles, solangelo, cherik, wolfstar, or johnlock platonic. it would just be wrong.

and as a straight cis classics major who just finished the iliad for the 100th time? yeah, there is no platonic explanation, those two are a love story to last for millennia and a tragedy to tear your heart just as long.

"Not every ship has to be gay!"

Girl you're using TUMBLR. THE gayland. What did you expect?

The hands wanted to take him,

He did not want to go.

They wanted to take him down under,

He did not want to go.

Thanatos had come for him,

He did not want to go.

There was one he would leave,

He did not want to go.

The hands over his mouth, no air in his lungs,

He did not want to go.

A future never to be seen,

He did not want to go.

A life of joy in the sorrow,

He did not want to go.

But they pulled and pulled,

He did not want to go.

He was sorry, Achilles,

He did not want to go.

Just something I thought of while listening to 'Achilles Come Down' by Gang of Youth. Hope you like it.

i could make thousands of these

achilles to distract myself from life's miseries

after “The Song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller (warning: violence)

Heliotropic soul who smells of spring.

Sunshine hair with gold-leafed summer irises,

Bright, shining from alabaster flesh.

Chiseled hands over carved wood,

Sinew-plucked strings.

They would never draw blood.

Winter is a minimalist,

Warmed by our roseate love,

Thawed anew.