and like ten more songs

Art trade of Achilles and Patroclus for @niarchery! She gave me a few different ideas to choose from, but I knew I wanted to draw her suggestion of Achilles in drag seducing Patroclus. If you haven’t read The Song of Achilles, Achilles has to hide as a woman for a good deal of time until Patroclus comes to rescue him, and while this scene might not be entirely canon, it should be. Hope you enjoy, Nia!

Be A Song For Me

For the music prompt of @carryon-countdown

Bites on my shoulder, marks like inverted piano keys.

Scratches on my back that he creates like sheet music. Simon whispers in my ear, “This is better than music, isn’t it?”

This is better than music, better than music //

I hate that he’s right. When he’s dead and gone, I won’t be able to listen to music without remembering what it was like to hear it live. To feel music on Simon’s skin, freckles scattered across shoulders I think about whenever I pick up my violin.

Be a song for me //

Music isn’t a thing, music isn’t a place, music is Simon. He is Julliard, he is a priceless Stradivarius. His voice is the first melody I hear in the morning and his good night whispers are my lullaby.

You are my zietgeist, set me fucking free //

“Stop thinking,” he teases in the darkness of our bedroom, hand sliding down my back as I arch my spine up. I relish the pain of contorting my body underneath the black shadow of his wings and the lightness of his smile.

I have never felt more like a cello, more like a harp, more like an instrument, as my body sings beneath the pads of his fingers.

Of course he’d tell me not to think. That’s what he does. Music never thinks, it acts. It echoes around the room, and fuck, does he echo. His violent, wonderful bursts of existence that used to make me think of fire and doom but now they are a symbol of what life is supposed to look like.

Set me fucking free, stop these fucking thoughts //

He is a rhythm that thumps in my veins, he makes me want to get up and move my feet to the beat.

I’ve fought, I thought, stop these fucking thoughts //

“Stop writing music,” his tail seems to tell me, as it coils around my left ankle. Our bed feels like it’s suspended in a place where time doesn’t exist.

You are my zeitgeist, set me fucking free //

I used to only have that feeling of timelessness when I went to a really well-done orchestra performance, with an ornate stage and well-trained musical masters.

But now I find it here too, with Simon, in all his recklessness. He somehow creates an entire album every night, in the moans that escape my throat and the rustle of the comforter falling to the floor. The sharp slam of the bedside drawer, the silent movement of those fucking wings, the smirk on his face that creates dimples. 

This is better than music, this is almost abusive //

He makes the music without realizing, he is the music without realizing, and I write the lyrics. I can’t help it, it’s something intrinsically compelling that forces me to match his actions with my words. That’s what we’ve always done, first as kids, then enemies, and now as everything we are.

Please read my mind, stop these fucking thoughts //

“You aren’t immortal,” he whispers, and I huff into the space between his shoulder and neck.

He knows I’m always thinking about that. A yawning, stretching infinity that I won’t be able to handle without him. I can’t do it without Simon, loudly and recklessly making music, becoming music, no matter where he is.

I whisper, “I can’t help it.”

Be a song for me //


Much later, when his body is a crushing weight above me, suffocating my worries until the morning light, I end the night the same way I always do.

I press a kiss to Simon’s temple, tangling my fingers in his curls, and close my eyes with the ghost of a fully written song write behind my eyelids.

I never write them down, but I never forget them. I don’t truly know if I’m immortal or not, but if I am, I’ll always have these.

Simon is music, and I can’t stop listening.

You are my zeitgeist, set me fucking free.

Have you ever shipped something so hardcore that it literally gives you butterflies in your stomach when you see your ship together, talking, looking at each other and every little movement gives your chills?

Ha, of course you have, it’s tumblr but still… my otps are giving me so many feels tonight! *cries* they are all so beautiful:’)