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pyramidofmice · 3 months

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Honestly I think the core of Achilles's character in The Song of Achilles is that he loves to learn ("He is surprising" 35/his eagerness to hear stories from Odysseus and Diomedes) and grow (pushing himself to beat his own records by having Patroclus count him on the beach, etc) and overall he thrives on the energy and movement of mortal life. This is in comparison to the godly life of eternally staying the same age. If he became immortal, he'd never grow anymore. He'd have challenges to rise up to and meet, but Miller's construction of the godly realm has it so a god's character is incredibly stagnant. Circe and Thetis grow as people, but only as a result of getting entangled with mortal lives.

When Achilles makes the decision to die at Troy, he sets his sights on immortality as payment for his forfeit future. He chooses to die young rather than age into obscurity. But in his desperate clawing for fame (and thus immortality), he casts off all the mortal parts of himself that made him happy. He stops wanting to learn about others ("It’s simpler if they just remember me" 247). He sees success in battle but doesn't push himself to progress the war: he avoids Hector, and thus avoids fate. He sticks himself in a repetitive cycle of killing and prizes that stretches on for 10 years.

He fell in love with the life he had on Pelion. He wants to keep it forever, to gain immortality so he never loses his youth or his most beloved. But on Pelion, he and Patroclus were learning from Chiron and growing into adulthood. Immortality is antithetical to the underlying nature of those things he seeks to keep: the striving involved with growing, the surprise of the unexpected, the ability to share these experiences with another.

The person he becomes at Troy is distanced from Patroclus even before losing him to death. Chapter Thirty, where Achilles sends Patroclus off in his armor, is riddled with parallels to things Achilles once said lovingly. Take this exchange from their time on Pelion: "They never let you be famous and happy...I’m going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it...Because you’re the reason" (98). At Troy, it turns into this: He held up his hand. “Swear to me,” he said. “Swear to me that if you go, you will not fight them.” “...Yes.” I pressed my hand to his (309).

When Achilles is deciding between his two dooms, Patroclus thinks this: I had seen the joy he took in his own skill, the roaring vitality that was always just beneath the surface (158). Achilles thought that he would avoid losing this joy by choosing a young death. Instead, he loses his desire for both godly and mortal life, even while his body remains strong. Maybe if he'd acted differently at Troy, he could've brought the goodness of his mortal life into his godly one. But he gets so caught up in the fear of losing what he loves to his enemies that he doesn't realize he's robbed himself.

#tsoa #tsoa meta #the song of achilles #achilles pelides #achilles tsoa #tsoa achilles #achilles (tsoa)#pyra speaks

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minty-soosh · 2 years

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“The greater the monument, the greater the man. The stone the Greeks quarry for his grave is huge and white, stretching up to the sky. A C H I L L E S, it reads. It will stand for him, and speak to all who pass: he lived and died, and lives again in memory.” ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

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wheresmypineapplebro · 2 years

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“Why me?”

“Because you’re the reason.”

#The Song Of Achilles #Achilles and Patroclus #Achilles Pelides #patroclus #tsoa achilles #patrochilles

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melodysoars · 2 years

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you know what objectively ripped? the Giants Drink from Enders Game. a little mouse clambering around a massive skeletal corpse being reclaimed by the earth, locked in an unwinnable scenario. how goddamn peaceful. joyful, even. props to Ender I guess but I would have just hung out with that giant forever.

#in which I am achilles pelides

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johaerys-writes · 2 months

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you're a walking disaster and yet-

—I'll follow in your wake.

Patrochilles | 148k | Modern AU | Ch. 23/23

Summary:

"You'll meet my son, Achilles, soon," Mr Pelides told Patroclus on their drive there. "You two will get along just fine. He's as wild as they come, though." The indulgent pride with which he said the words made them sound almost like a compliment. "Don’t let him talk you into anything."

Patroclus blushed as he swore, with strong conviction, that he would absolutely not do that. No sir.

He knows better than that.

Or: Achilles is a threat and a menace. As they grow up together, Patroclus falls for him anyway.

Read the complete work on AO3!

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #the iliad #homer's iliad #modern au #now that this is finished #thought I'd make a proper promo #i already miss them so much SO much 😭#anyway #i'm really proud of this 🥹 go read it it’s good I promise 🙏#johaerys writes #Spotify

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falcemartello · 3 months

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Vi ricordate questi versi: «Cantami, o diva, del Pelide Achille l’ira funesta?» Ecco, a quanto pare Omero è il capostipite della «mascolinità tossica» e un esempio di «patriarcato» a detta dei progressisti della cancel culture e va bandito dalle scuole.

«Sono molto orgogliosa di dire che quest’anno abbiamo rimosso l’Iliade e l’Odissea dai nostri programmi», dichiara Heather Levine, che insegna alla Lawrence High School. Negli Stati Uniti non hanno gradito che gli eroi omerici siano guerrieri «forti e dai capelli biondi», e hanno pensato bene di impedire ai ragazzi di leggerlo in classe.

Ma di cosa parla l’Iliade? Dell’onore, di gelosia, amicizia, tradimenti, di uomini assetati di potere che vorrebbero dominare il mondo e di innocenti che muoiono in modo tragico a causa di una guerra voluta dai potenti. Vi suona familiare? Ma soprattutto parla dell’amore: dell’amore verso la propria patria, l’amore fraterno e dell’amore di un padre nei confronti del figlio.

Vi ricordate di quando il vecchio Priamo supplica Achille di restituirgli il corpo di Ettore? Io mi ricordo che quando lo lessi per la prima volta mi commossi del dolore di questo padre che avanza nella notte vestito come un mendicante e si mette in ginocchio davanti all’assassinio di suo figlio. E vi ricordate la scena in cui Ettore dice addio alla moglie e al figlioletto? Ecco, in quei momento la guerra non è più gloriosa, non è più eroica, ed Omero ve lo mostra!

Secondo voi è tossico tutto questo? E sì l’Iliade parla di uno scontro tra due civiltà, esattamente come le guerre di oggi, ed esattamente come le guerre di oggi nasce da un pretesto, il tradimento di Elena nei confronti del marito Menelao che un uomo assetato di potere, Agamennone, fratello di Menelao, sfrutta per dare inizio alla guerra. Per distruggere i suoi nemici. E alla gente «racconta» la favoletta del tradimento di Elena.

Perché forse il vero motivo per bandire i classici non è perché sono politicamente scorretti e non stanno al passo con i tempi ma perché lo sono fin troppo! Non sia mai che i ragazzi leggendoli, incomincino a fare una cosa pericolosissima per tutti i governi, i politici e gli Agamennone di oggi: pensare!

Guendalina Middei

#demenza dem

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marsdeathdefiances · 11 months

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The Skyros incident

Odysseus: We’re here with Achilles Pelides who was publicly outed against his will four hours ago. Mr. Pelides, a few words?

Achilles:

Odysseus:

Achilles: *bursting into tears* EVERYONE KNOWS IM BI?!?!

Odysseus: …

Odysseus: *who was referencing his disguise as Pyrrha* Well…now we do.

#incorrect quotes #all jokes here #incorrect iliad #achilles #incorrect tsoa quotes #patroclus #patrochilles #achilles x patroclus #incorrect patrochilles quotes #incorrect greek mythology #odysseus

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peggy-sue-reads-a-book · 14 days

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Wound

Summary: At first, Patroclus was horrified by his love returning from battle smattered with gore. Now, he’s so used to it he only wishes Achilles would shower off and leave his sweaty armor outside their tent. So when Achilles comes back clutching his side, he can only assume it’s a prank …

It was a dry summer. Despite nearly daily sacrifices and chants, the fifteenth day without rain was drawing to an end. Flies collected on the backs of mules and the White Tent stunk with the sweat and blood of returning raids. Even Patroclus, though a seasoned medic, found himself stepping out for air more frequently than usual.

He plunged his hands into a jug of lukewarm water, wishing it were colder. The more he repeated to himself the day would end, the longer each minute stretched. But it would end. Achilles would be home. If he so much as sets foot in our tent with his crusty armor on … thought Patroclus, scouring his hands and forearms methodically. He was about to swear to himself that Achilles did not have a prayer of getting him in bed if there was so much a fleck of grime from his chariot wheel on his person. But of course, who could keep a promise like that? He grabbed a towel as he stepped back into the sweltering tent. If tries to kiss me with his helmet on, I’m not giving him head for a week.

There was so much to do. A huge man from Pylos needed stitches in his calf. Patroclus kept a stoic front, but by the time he returned to his own camp was irritable, hot, and tired. He knew Achilles would be home already. He hated leaving him to wait. It always felt like wasted time.

“Oh good,” said a clear, familiar voice, “I thought you’d never come.”

“‘Killes,” Patroclus mumbled, suddenly folded in the young man’s arms, his head pressed to his shoulder. He shut his eyes and allowed his neck and face to be kissed. He loved the feeling of Achilles’ firm, calloused hand cradling the back of his neck.

“You need to shave,” Patroclus said as his lover kissed between his eyes, “Can’t burn down Troy looking patchy.”

“Patchy?” Achilles pulled away, “Ugh.” At twenty two, his beard never quite filled in.

“Well don’t stop,” he said, stepping closer to murmur against Achilles’ throat, “Let me do it. Take a bath with me.” He grinned and pulled him close by the hips. He was warm and hardening.

Achilles was perfect. The sun left his skin a deep olive against the snowy linen of his tunic. He was hard, lean muscle, the fastest runner in the world. His hair always a little fairer in summer. It clean and tied in an easy knot at the nape of his neck. A few wavy strands framed his face, which now that Patroclus studied it, was tense. Patroclus took his chin, running a thumb over his lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked, “Never mind about your beard. I’m sorry I said anything.”

Inwardly, he was a little annoyed at having to reassure Achilles of his good looks. It wasn’t like him.

“Oh— no— It’s not that,” he said, wincing a little when Patroclus tried to pull him close again, “Love, I’ve got to sit down.”

Achilles stumbled to the edge of their bed, clutching his side and leaving Patroclus puzzled. He looked up and forced a smile. “Sorry about that bath, Pat, really.”

“Sweetheart?” Pat was beside him immediately, studying him closely, “Oh, gods, you got hurt.”

A protective arm drew around Achilles strong shoulders. He kissed the top of his head, then paused and said suspiciously, “You never get hurt.”

“Well I did, this time!”

“Pelides, if this is a prank—“

“No, no, Pat, I swear!” Next thing he knew, the hand gripping Achilles side was held out to him, slick with blood.

“Oh-oh.” It came out as two syllables. “Oh no.”

His brows knit in a worried frown. Patroclus took Achilles hand carefully in both of his. “Oh, sweetheart, what…? What happened?”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be as bad as how you’re looking at me right now,” said Achilles as he held up an arm to inspect his ribs.

“No. It’s not bad. It probably won’t even scar,” said Patroclus, but his voice was sadder than his words. “Hold still, baby.”

“Ok, ok, that hurts!” Achilles backed away, folding his arms defensively.

“I should think so. Why weren’t you wearing armor?”

“I was!”

“Achilles!”

What Patroclus had seen was a shallow, bright red slash where something sharp had grazed his ribs. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing the bruising tomorrow morning.

“You cracked a rib so whatever little stunt this was from I hope it was worth it.”

“Why are you angry?”

“Just tell me what happened.”

Achilles smiled, a little smugly, “I swung onto the back of a chariot and slit the throat of everyone in it. The horses panicked and scattered their whole formation.”

Patroclus rolled his eyes. “I bet your driver loved that. Did you even warn him you were going to jump?.”

He grinned. “I was on foot.”

“You fucking what? Achilles, you’re not faster than a horse. This is stupid.“

“Not weighed down with armor I’m not.”

“Oh gods.”

“What? You’ve raced me. You’d know.” He leaned back, self satisfied.

“Fucking show off.”

“Why are you so angry?” he took Patroclus’s face in his hands. “Pat, I’ve missed you all day. Like you said, it probably won’t even scar. What do you want for dinner?”

Tears stood in Patroclus’s large brown eyes. “You got hurt.”

“I’m a soldier.”

“You took your armor off! For what? For everyone to see your faster than all the Trojans and their horses?”

“I—“

“Are you twelve years old?!” Patroclus raised his voice as he so rarely did.

“You didn’t even ask me what happened after I hijacked the chariot.”

“Stay there. It doesn’t need stitches but you’re bleeding.” He rummaged through a trunk of clothes for an old tunic, which he began tearing into strips. It was his own and he’d have to replace it but the linen would be worn soft and more comfortable.

“And then,” said Achilles, “I trampled five people before someone threw a spear at me.”

“Someone threw a spear at you?” The blood was draining from Patroclus’s face.

“Serves me right. I throw spears at them all the time— ow!” He cried out as he tried to finish his joke with a shrug. “Anyhow, why do you care? They missed.”

Patroclus touched the open wound lightly. “Not by enough.”

“Pat, you’re crying. You’re seriously upset, aren’t you? Patroclus—“

“What? You did what you wanted to do and even I did been there I can’t stop you, can I?”

“Pat, don’t. Come here, baby.”

Patroclus shook his head. “I’m not cuddling up on your broken rib. You’ve gotten enough attention for one day. Sit still.” Achilles yelped as Patroclus wound clean cloth around his chest.

“Pat,” he whined, struggling to hold still as he pulled the bandages tight. Patroclus’s face was a flat, professional mask. “Don’t you feel sorry for me?” he teased, “Even a little?”

“No.”

“Pat! Patroclus, where are you going?” He sounded panicked as he watched him calming slip on his shoes and gather a couple of larger jars.

“The beach. You did a good job cleaning it yourself, but I want to boil some water and check it again in a few hours.”

“Oh no, you are not putting salt water on me, Pat, I am wounded. I am in pain.”

“What do you think the rest of us put up with?”

Achilles sighed and settled onto his good side, cheek resting on one hand. “Please come back and tell me what’s really bothering you. Was it just a long day? Wash up and get something to eat and then you can tell me about it.”

Patroclus set down the jars by the tent entrance. He sat beside Achilles and opened his arms. “You’re going to hurt yourself at that angle. You don’t need to pose for me to appreciate your slutty little waist.” Patroclus gave a half smile, playfully pinching Achilles’ sleek, perfectly straight side.

“It hurts more when you ignore me,” he said, resting his head on Patroclus’s chest.

“When have I ever ignored you?” Patroclus relaxed a little now that his dearest was right where he could touch and smell him, feel his heartbeat against his own skin.

“You were about to.”

Patroclus stroked his neck and upper back in a thoughtful silence. “I didn’t want to be angry at you. Not when you came home with a broken bone but … gods, Achilles, it was so close.”

“Hector is still kicking, yes?” Achilles was kissing his throat, clearly trying to distract him from the discussion.

“That’s not a good reason to be careless. I’ve been thinking.” He paused and pursed his lips for a moment. “You know how prophecies go. Like in plays and things.”

“Sure.”

“They’re never what you expect.”

“So? I’m alive. Hector’s alive. We’ll play again tomorrow.”

“Yes, but you’re banking on being the only thing that can kill him. He’s just a man, Achilles. He can get sick or in an accident. You’re only assuming he’ll die in battle because it’s the most obvious.”

“He will. I’ll kill him whenever I get around to it. Maybe I’ll hit him over the head with my cane just before I drop dead of old age. Did you think of that?”

Patroclus felt a chill thinking of it. He wasn’t sure where the words he said next came from. “The fates don’t like being tricked.”

“I won’t push it,” said Achilles, “For you.” He kissed Patroclus’s throat and along his strong jaw. “I won’t leave you.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Ouch— too tight.”

“M’Sorry, honey,” said Patroclus. Achilles had slid down, his head on Patroclus’s belly. He curled up in a tangle of arms and legs to keep from hanging off the bed. Patroclus ran the back of his index finger down the bridge of his nose. “Don’t leave me.”

“You just said I can’t promise.”

“Promise anyway.”

Achilles kissed him right at the sharp angle of his hipbone. “I won’t leave you. Never.” He planted more kisses down Patroclus’s hip, each teasing and more intimate than the last.

“Oh no,” Patroclus stopped him, “You’re resting tonight. If you want that, you can come home in one piece.”

“You don’t want me?”

“I want you to heal your damn rib. Go to bed, Achilles.”

He lay his golden head on Patroclus’s stomach once again, restless and tense. He couldn’t help stroking the dark hair around his navel, tracing his finger in soft swirls.

“Excuse me,” said Patroclus, arresting his fingers in his. “Good night.” But despite his stern tone, he pressed Achilles’ hand to his lips in a kiss more tender than if he were caring for a sick child.

“It hurts to much to sleep,” Achilles confessed.

“I know. I’ll stay with you.” He massaged Achilles shoulders, rubbing slowly down his arms, then back up again. “Can I take your hair down, love?”

“Mmhhmm.”

His face always looked about three years younger when he was tired or sad. He smiled boyishly, burying his face in Patroclus and inhaling deeply. Patroclus gentled tugged his hair free. It spread across the mattress in soft, fair waves. Thought he would have been content simply to admire the beautiful hair, Patroclus began working his fingers in little circles at Achilles’ temples, back to the base of his neck. He knew Achilles was like a cat about affection. Hesitant to touch nearly anyone, but spoiled and eager when he wanted it.

“Never stop,” he mumbled, “That’s perfect.”

Patroclus rolled his eyes. “Brat,” he said.

“You love me.” He tried to sound cocky but he tumbled out almost like a question.

“More than anything.” Patroclus didn’t feel like playing games anymore. He was as serious as a devotee at an alter. His hand rested still on Achilles head.

They were quiet together, though neither fell asleep. And as the sun went down, an easy rain pattered against their tent.

@johaerys-writes @hycinthrt @shitfacedalways @tristicorde

#greek mythology #achilles #the song of achilles #the iliad #patroclus #patrochilles #tsoa #achilles and patroclus #achilles x patroclus #tsoa fanfic

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pelideswhore · 2 years

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Achilles and Apollo analysis

ty for this ask and i’m sorry it took this long lmao… this also applies to everyone else who submitted an essay suggestion way back then, i’m still gonna be answering those eventually. i’m sorry for the delay lol

Apollo || Achilles parallels

When you consider the actual content of the Iliad, it’s noteworthy that the epic starts with the (almost) simultaneous wrath of Apollo and Achilles. In both cases, the consequence is the death of hundreds, which shows their power. However, they’re different in that Apollo is a) acting on the wishes of a mortal and that b) Apollo chills out when he gets what he wants, Achilles however continues sulking. Unlike Apollo, Achilles attempts to harvest as much as possible from his “divine wrath”, despite Apollo being the actually divine one. To be entirely fair towards Achilles, he is mortal and hence has more to lose/less time to enjoy life to its fullest (source: In Our Time podcast). They are paralleled again in the last book of the Iliad, when Achilles recounts the story of Niobe to Priam. He compares Niobe to Priam, thus comparing himself to Apollo.

Throughout the entire Iliad, Apollo and Achilles follow what I call ‘opposing character arcs’. There’s definitely a proper name for that, but what I mean is that they’re basically headed in opposite directions on the same road. While Achilles needs to be humbled, Apollo needs an ego boost.

To clarify: Apollo is way too attached to mortals during the war, most notably Hector, but also Chryses and if you include backstory, Cassandra. Of course, the other gods also have certain mortals they look after, but no one gets as attached as Apollo does. Artemis (his twin) is completely detached from the war, and Athena (who has a similar amount of screen time) is not attached to the mortals themselves, but rather what they mean to the war. Poseidon cares so little that he, despite being actively on the Greek side, saves Aeneas’ life in order to abide fate. This is how he addresses him after saving him from Achilles:

‘What power, O prince, with force inferior far, // urged thee to meet Achilles’ arm in war? // Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy doom, // Defrauding Fate of all thy fame to come.’

Apollo, on the other hand, saves Hector’s life on many, many occasions, despite knowing his death being ruled by fate. Achilles states this explicitly in Book 20:

Achilles closes with his hated foe, // His heart and eyes with flaming fury glow: // But present to his aid, Apollo shrouds // The favoured hero in a veil of clouds. // Thrice struck Pelides with indignant heart, // Thrice in impassive air he plunged the dart: // The spear a fourth time buried in the cloud; // He foams with fury and exclaims aloud: // ‘Wretch! Thou hast escaped again, once more thy flight // Has saved thee, and the partial god of light. // But long thou shalt not thy fate withstand, // If any power assist Achilles’ hand […]’

The goal of Apollo’s character arc is for him to recognize his superior spot as a god on Olympus.

Achilles is the exact opposite of this. Achilles sees himself as above all others, even above fate itself (paradoxically, that is a mortal thing to think; Zeus, the ultimate immortal, acknowledges his inferiority towards the fates). Achilles is determined to live as long as possible, though he knows that his fate rules otherwise.

As you can see, Apollo and Achilles mirror each other in some way. Nevertheless, within these similarities they remain different. I’ve compiled a list of examples from the Iliad:

Book I: Achilles needs Thetis’/Zeus’ help to execute his wrathful plan, Apollo on the hand can execute his own plan himself,

Book XVI: Apollo helps Hector in killing Achilles, which is directly paralleled to

Book XXIII: Athena helping Achilles kill Hector (note that Achilles and Apollo are on opposite sides of the spectrum; Achilles is the one receiving help, instead of being the one to give it) — p.s.: it’s interesting that Hector was killed due to the help of Athena, his reasonable, divine counterpart, just as Achilles would be killed by Apollo, his vengeful and wrathful divine counterpart (x)

Despite proving himself to be a needy goofball (affectionate), Achilles doesn’t stop from continuously acting like he’s a god.

That is until Patroclus dies. By the end of the epic, both have completed their arc. For Achilles, the turning point comes when Patroclus dies (notably at the hands of Apollo). Following Patroclus’ death, Achilles admits he’s not divine and not even the best of the greeks. He abandons his fear of death, even brings it upon himself and falls in battle, just as was expected of him.

Similarly, Apollo does not intervene to help Hector during the duel. In a way, he even caused it by killing Patroclus. After that, he only shows his affection for Hector by protecting his corpse until Priam can collect it. After the end of the Iliad, by the time Troy has fallen, he’s so detached that he doesn’t even take part in the siege. He doesn’t do anything he shouldn’t to protect anyone he shouldn’t.

Okay, this is the part where I start reading into things that are just Not That Deep, but Apollo and Achilles have both earned themselves a certain level of closure, so here we go.

Regarding their appearance, Apollo and Achilles’ classic feature is their long, blonde hair. I am, of course, an advocate for redhead Achilles, but xanthos (the word used to describe him) can mean blonde. Walter Burkert regards Achilles almost as a “doppelgänger” of Apollo, mainly because of their hair (x). This similarity builds a connection between Apollo and Achilles, which isn’t super deep, but interesting.

The cutting of Achilles’ hair is not only an act of respect to Patroclus, it’s also him giving a part of himself to death, and if you distance yourself from the war motive, it’s the point where Achilles ascends from boyhood to manhood (x). Above I mentioned that their long hair connects Apollo and Achilles — by cutting his hair, Achilles is removing the one big connection he still had to Apollo and thereby his strive for divinity.

Apollo gets his closure by basically killing Achilles through Paris, whom he uses as a tool without getting attached to him. Achilles’ death could also be symbolic for Apollo killing the mortal part of himself, which Achilles represents. Walter Burkert says Achilles’ death at the hand of Apollo specifically was unavoidable since “the hero [is] an obscure reflection of the god in the indissoluble polarity of sacrifice” (x, trans.). By the time Euripides’ Orestes takes place, Apollo is acting very much like Athena, manipulating and toying from high above instead of being sentimental. He ruthlessly destroys Orestes’ life for no reason other than the fact that he wanted to.

To me, the hate between Apollo and Achilles might very well stem from disguised self-hatred — they see in the other their own flaws and direct the anger that the self-reflection causes on each other. Beyond this (at risk of sounding too much like Troy the film), it might be jealousy for what the other possesses, namely divinity or mortality for which they long so much.

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